Dvořák concerto with Jakub Hrůša and Stuttgart Radio Orchestra
Hadelich plays this Dvořák concerto with its widely-feared, exposed solo opening ascent with sleek and magnificently burgeoning tone. Every masterful violinistic inflection and confident gesture has the intensity required of the performer in a work of this kind. His eminently noble treatment of lyricism, quite without force, on his 'Ex-Kiesewetter' Stradivari of 1723 reveals a sensitively responsive chamber musician, who despite the temperamental verve of his playing, is mistrustful of the mere 'Bohemian minstrel’. Stuttgarter Nachrichten | February 2015
CD-Review of Histoire du Tango with Pablo Sáinz Villegas (guitar)
The real virtuoso is a great musician. Hadelich reminds us of this. The remote sound, the old-school bel canto: purity and delicacy of tone, an infallible ear; dynamic flexibility, technical agility, a cornucopia of colours. Music is a language, and Hadelich's singing can speak. [...] We marvel as Hadelich goes his own way, and it is a long road, reaching out far beyond himself. Controlled by taste, feeling and style, here plays a messenger between mind and matter." Stuttgarter Nachrichten | 20th April 2013
Barber Concerto with the Stuttgart Radio Symphony Orchestra conducted by Sir Neville Marriner
It was there from the very first note: that fine, silky, supple Hadelich sound, and within a very few bars, the violinist had again proved that not without good reason is he held as one of the most discriminating exponents of his guild.
Stuttgarter Nachrichten | 26th January 2013
CD-Review: Flying Solo
The Ex-Gingold Stradivarius once belonged to the famous violinist and teacher Joseph Gingold […], who gave the first performance of Ysaÿe’s third solo sonata (“Ballade”) on it. Hadelich played it – and how! The jubilation in the rising figure at the start was like life celebrating itself. Ysaÿe’s Sonata no. 5 was pure madness. Joie de vivre – one almost hesitates to put it in German: Daseinsfreude, the joy of living.
[…] In the Caprices nos 4, 9 and 21 Paganini emerges from the shadows of “devil’s violinist” as a remarkable composer and reveals the agonies of unfulfilled desire, passionately depicted. Hadelich plays these with greater seriousness than is usually the case; he does nothing merely for show. In Bartók’s great sonata, likewise, superficial brilliance has no place; the cantabile element is part of an existential desire for self-expression. Playing the violin is communication, and everything in Hadelich’s probing playing happens because of what is in the music. He brings it to an incandescent glow, but not a destructive one. On listening impartially to five recent recordings by aspiring and indeed much-feted young violinists, we have to report that none of them has such a substantial tone, so imaginative an approach to instrumental sound and such timeless beauty.