If Michel Corrette was a little over-enthusiastic in crediting Corelli with the invention of both sonata and concerto form as it was known and understood in the mid-eighteenth century, Roger North had only to judge by the enormous popularity of the Italian master's works in England in the 1720s to deduce that they would be immortal. Indubitably great works though his Op. 5 Violin Sonatas are, we have had to wait long enough since the launch of the period-instrument revival for commanding recordings of them, and now suddenly we are confronted with two very different but nevertheless superlative versions almost simultaneously. Monica Huggett is the best known in this country of the two excellent violinists in question. She brings a sweetness of tone and a perfection of technical control that cannot but inspire admiration on their own count, but in combination with such unerring musical insight as is to be found here makes these into quite masterly interpretations.
Chiara Banchini, though her approach and tone-quality are quite distinctive, has no less to offer. Less honeyed and more reedy, her sound has an on-the-edge quality that brings out well the experimental character, the sheer daring of Corel- li's works. So determined is she to explore to the full the extremes of his violin writing that she occasionally sacrifices intonation and control in favour of the spirit of the thing, re-creating a shade more successfully perhaps that image of Corelli's distorted features and rolling eyeballs. This is not to say that Huggett's version lacks spontaneity: both players put their virtuosity and knowledge of style at the service of the music and make it sound fresh in a way that our post-Paganini, Kennedy-hyped ears can really relish.
Perhaps one of the reasons that would make even players as fine and stylish as the two under consideration here hesitate before committing these sonatas to disc is the near-impossibility of making the ornamentation sound convincing yet spontaneous under studio conditions. Both Huggett and Banchini, the latter of whose recording embraces only the first six of the Op. 5 set, the sonatas da chiesa, follow the ornamented versions of the slow movements found in Etienne Roger's 1710 edition of those works. These purported to represent the way in which Corelli himself performed them, and even if Roger's claim has given rise to considerable musicological debate in recent years, his edition certainly provides a good working base for inventive modern-authentic players such as these.
It is perhaps surprising that basically the same ornaments should work so well in or inspire such different choices of tempo: Banchini plays almost all the slow movements a good deal slower than Huggett. When the flow is not too disrupted by exaggerated swells and the tone is allowed to ring without being forced, Banchini's approach brings out the sweep of the melodic line with a marvellous sense of frisson of tension between movement and stillness. Huggett's fast movements, particularly the fugal ones, are the more natural and flexible while losing nothing in vitality. Contrast within the bounds of good taste is the key to the success of both interpretations.
This brings me on to a brief consideration of their respective back-up teams. The continuo members of Trio Sonnerie are unerringly tasteful in their playing, while Nigel North on theorbo and other plucked instruments is quite stunningly imaginative. This is one real advantage over the Banchini version; although the continuo there also makes use of the archlute, it is confined to a supporting role that supplements but never substitutes the harpsichord and there is consequently less contrast in instrumental colour. North's choice of the baroque guitar and his playing of it in Corelli's Follia Variations is quite inspired. Corelli's music may be immortal, but record catalogues are usually not: I would recommend buying both versions while they are still available and enjoying them for years to come.'