Isabelle Faust's Bach violin sonatas are the modern reference. With gut strings and a sensitive harpsichordist, she strips away romantic varnish and lets Bach's counterpoint breathe. For anyone who thinks they know these pieces, prepare to hear them anew.
Isabelle Faust does not play Bach like she’s trying to prove something. She plays like she’s still discovering the music for the first time, note by note. That’s a rare thing in these sonatas—pieces that have been recorded to death by everyone from Heifetz to Mutter. Faust’s 2010 set on Harmonia Mundi is the one that makes you forget all the others.
She plays a 1704 Stradivarius, the “Sleeping Beauty,” strung with gut. That decision alone tells you everything. Gut strings are unforgiving. They don’t project with the bright, antiseptic clarity of modern steel. They sag, they warm, they speak late. Faust doesn’t fight that. She lets the bow dig in and the pitch drift slightly where the music wants to, trusting that Bach’s lines are strong enough to hold.
The three sonatas with obbligato harpsichord (BWV 1014–1016) feel like conversations between equals. Kristian Bezuidenhout is not wallpaper here. His right hand mirrors Faust’s violin lines, then pulls away to argue something else. In the E major Sonata, BWV 1016, they trade the long-breathed adagio theme back and forth like two people finishing each other’s sentences. It’s almost intimate enough to be uncomfortable.
The later three sonatas (BWV 1017–1019) are more formally complex. Faust takes the C minor fugue at a pace that lets each entry land before the next one piles on. You hear the architecture. The G major Sonata’s final allegro is where she cuts loose a little—double-stops that bite, a rhythmic snap that’s almost dance-like. She’s not above a bit of showmanship, but it’s earned.
The recording, done at Teldex Studio Berlin in March 2009, is a masterclass in restraint. Engineer Markus Heiland placed the microphones just close enough to catch the grain of the gut strings and the harpsichord’s plectra, but far enough to let the room breathe. There is no spotlight. The violin is rarely louder than the harpsichord. You are sitting in the third row, not on the stage. That’s the right distance for this music.
This is the only recording of these sonatas I keep coming back to. Not because Faust is the most technically perfect—she’s not, and that’s the point. The imperfections are where the life lives. The slight buzz of an open string, the momentary sag of pitch in a long slur, the sound of a bow finding its grip at the start of a fast movement. Those details make the music feel real. Made by a human being, not a perfection machine.
Bezuidenhout is a rare collaborator. He doesn’t play the harpsichord like it’s a glorified autoharp. He shapes phrases, uses rubato sparingly, and in the slow movements he finds a kind of still, solemn beauty that most pianists miss. Together they make these sonatas sound not like academic exercises but like true chamber music—two voices arguing and agreeing in equal measure.
The album ends with the C major Solo Sonata, BWV 1005, as an encore of sorts. Faust plays the opening Adagio with a long, patient arc. The fugue that follows is a monster—over ten minutes of relentless polyphony. She doesn’t cheat with speed or rubato. She just plays each note as squarely as possible and lets the counterpoint stack up on its own. By the time the final Allegro assai hits, you’ve been through something.
Put this on after midnight. Don’t shuffle. Let it breathe. You’ll hear things you’ve never noticed in these pieces before. I guarantee it.
🎵 Key Takeaways
- Faust plays a 1704 Stradivarius strung with gut strings.
- Gut strings are unforgiving, warm, and speak late.
- Bezuidenhout's harpsichord mirrors then argues with Faust's violin.
- In BWV 1016 adagio, they trade themes like finishing sentences.
- Faust takes C minor fugue at a pace revealing its architecture.
- The violin is rarely louder than the harpsichord in the recording.
What's different about Isabelle Faust's approach to Bach's violin sonatas?
Faust uses gut strings and a period-informed bow, which gives the violin a softer attack and more complex overtones than modern setups. She also treats the harpsichord as an equal partner rather than a background instrument, making the music sound like genuine chamber dialogue.
How does the recording quality compare to other versions?
The Harmonia Mundi engineers avoided close-miking the violin. Instead, they placed microphones to capture the natural bloom of the Teldex Studio. The result is less dry and clinical than, say, Joshua Bell, and more akin to sitting in a good hall — you hear the room, the bow noise, the harpsichord's mechanism.
Is this recording a good entry point for someone new to classical music?
Absolutely. Faust and Bezuidenhout communicate with such clarity and emotional directness that you don't need to understand Baroque form to be moved. The music breathes at a human pace. Start with the E major Sonata's Adagio — it's a masterclass in sustained phrasing.
Further Reading