In an interestingly-titled album, recent Sibelius-winner Inmo Yang records a likewise interesting mix of pieces featuring the violin.

While the review of non-HIP albums is a rarity on this site, I felt I had to include Mr. Yang’s recording because of his inclusion of some earlier pieces, namely one by Matteis and the Corelli La Follia.

From his website):

Korean violinist Inmo Yang is the first prize winner of the 2022 Jean Sibelius Violin Competition. He was also awarded a prize for the best performance of the commissioned work written by Magnus Lindberg. Sakari Oramo- the chair of the jury- commented: “The winner was overwhelming. There is so much great about Inmo’s playing, both musically and violinistically. There is never anything extra involved in changing the spring, which produces singing and ease.”

I’d hate to pigeon hole any emerging superstars into one area of repertoire, but the story often goes the same way. They tend to focus their careers on the big, symphonic concertos. Yang’s first recording on DG was of the Paganini caprices (which I auditioned after this release and was delighted). This album seems to be a somewhat retrospective look at the violin, however the theme isn’t terribly comprehensive. The first track is attributed to the artist, based on a melody from Hildegard von Bingen, middle-ages female composer who left us chant music. The piece opens with a single voice and the drone of violin and envelopes into a rather modern-style number utilizing the continual drone of strings above a rhythmic fantasy. It’s not great music but as an appetizer it grabs our attention. What a beautiful instrument!

The Matteis is a short piece, the A minor fantasia. Like the far more famous Corelli op. 5 no. 12 that follows, Yang plays both at baroque pitch (a=415). In both cases I don’t really think he’s trying to imitate or use a baroque setup, but even using the modern violin, he does an excellent job at adhering to baroque performance style.

This is important to note because I think many have assumed as HIP came into its own that there had to be two camps of performance: those that did HIP or those that did not. Here’s a young artist that gives up nothing of the modern power of today’s instrument while style paying respect, if you will, to the sound-world known to the past. Harpsichord is used in the Corelli with an inventive introduction; altogether the collaboration, I thought, was well-done. Above all else, Yang’s playing was free and intense, showing us that yes, you can merge the two camps of performance practice into something quite affective for the modern listener.

The Shchedrin Gypsy Melody is a completely different sound-world from Corelli; Yang’s sound overtakes us when this piece starts, being quite a few decibels louder than how he sounded in the Corelli. Yet it’s an affective piece with an overgrowth of drama. Enough, in fact, to show off Yang’s technical acumen. My visceral reaction after listening to this piece again, is the sound of his instrument. More so than the opener, his technique.

He includes a quartet of Piazzolla pieces with guitar. I’m most familiar with Café 1930. The acoustic captured for these is ideal, the guitar sounding quite good. Yang’s violin appears behind, but his power, this is the right choice. His sound with tango nuevo is well-done without going too far outside his classical traditions. His extensions into the higher gamut of his instrument are well-tuned and sweetly presented.

The Concert d’aujourd’hui is played hard and fiesty which by this time in the album is a welcome flavor.

Ravel’s Tzigane is the second-longest piece on the album and here is presented with harp. It’s a bizarre piece that I’m familiar with. The sound of harp and pizzicato violin is well-matched. The piece, frankly is a difficult listen, a circus of moods, a play on the stylus phantasticus, if you will, rife with technical challenges for the violinist. It’s no surprise that Yang handles these challenges admirably by the time we come to this piece.

The last piece is by living Italian composer Salvatore Sciarrino. The Andante from his 6 Capricci starts with the sound of birdsong. The repetitive melodic material challenges our system’s tweeters with its upper limits of the violin. It ends the album quietly.

For me this was not an ideal collection of music when it comes to programming. It does, however, well-illustrate for us the dynamic range and power that this young(er) artist can elicit from a single instrument. While the Ravel, Sciarrino, and the opening number to me almost seem gratuitous in showcasing the artist’s range of power, as a whole I cannot fault this artist’s extreme musicianmanship nor his technical finesse. To include two baroque works with an eye on historical performance practice is alone enough for me to laud the album with praise. It’s not that he tried it; it’s that he tried it and got it pretty darn good.

I enthusiastically want to promote this album and this artist in future endeavors. I’ve already mentioned, for those interested, he’s recorded the 24 caprices of Niccolo Paganini which are well done and worth your time.