There are composers who never let you go once you've brought them into your home, and Astor Piazzolla (1921-1992) is the textbook example of this. His music moves between the smoky bordellos of Buenos Aires and the concert hall, between folk music and art music, and it comes fully alive precisely in that twilight zone. On this new Supraphon album, Czech violinist Daniel Matejča and accordionist Martin Šulc venture into that twilight zone, and the result convinces more than once.
At twenty-one years old, Matejča is no longer an unknown quantity: this is already his fourth recording for the label. Where young violinists often fall into the trap of the over-polished, the timid decorative approach with Piazzolla, he opts here for an approach with more bite. His tone is lean, sometimes almost nervous, and he dares to let the intonation bend slightly precisely where the tango demands it. This choice pays off: Piazzolla without a touch of dirt under the fingernails quickly becomes wallpaper.
The programme is a sensible cross-section of the familiar repertoire: the Suite del Ángel, the inevitable Histoire du Tango, an Ave Maria, Oblivion, the finale from Tango Apasionado and Escualo. It is repertoire with which every performer automatically places themselves alongside great predecessors such as Gidon Kremer, and that demands a pronounced personal vision. The duo finds this especially in the Histoire du Tango, where the four time periods – from the bordello of 1900 to the concert hall of today – are rendered with a fine sense of character. Particularly the transition from Bordel 1900 to Café 1930 makes clear how the tango in Piazzolla evolves from dance music into a more introspective, almost melancholic form of chamber music. This last part, which gives the album its title, rightfully receives all the space: slow, saturated, with an accordion that breathes rather than plays.
Moreover, Šulc proves to be a partner to cherish, not an accompanist who remains unobtrusive. His accordion – not the traditional bandoneon, with a slightly rounder and less scratchy timbre – fills the acoustic space around the violin without ever displacing it. In Oblivion, where many ensembles are tempted to serve up too much sentiment, both musicians keep the reins nicely tight, and that only benefits the music.
If there is anything to criticize, it is that the interpretation sometimes remains a little too safe and too polished, where Piazzolla actually calls for a bigger risk: Escualo could show sharper teeth for my taste, and the Suite del Ángel gains in urgency if the dynamic contrasts are applied a bit more boldly. But these are caveats to a recording that largely testifies to good taste and musicality, recorded with a clear, warm balance that does justice to the two instruments.
No voyage of discovery, then, but rather an intelligent and carefully crafted journey through familiar repertoire, in which Daniel Matejča confirms that he is more than a promising talent.