Paganini: 24 Caprices

The Price of Pledging a Soul

In nineteenth-century European folklore, whispered rumors insisted that Niccolò Paganini’s fingers could only fly across four strings because he had mortgaged his soul to the devil at a desolate crossroads.

Concertgoers stared at his pale, spider-like hands as he executed left-hand pizzicatos, ricochet bowings, and double-stop trills at breakneck speeds—even purposely snapping three strings to finish a work entirely on the G string. In his 24 Caprices Op. 1, he erected an almost sadistic technical hurdle for all future violinists.

Two centuries later, twenty-two-year-old Spanish virtuoso María Dueñas stepped into the Kammermusiksaal of the Berlin Philharmonie with her 1710 “Camposelice” Stradivari.

Released by Deutsche Grammophon, this double-album triumph claimed the 2025 Gramophone Instrumental Award. She proved to the world that the Caprices are far more than circus acrobatics; beneath those dizzying runs beats the tender, fiercely passionate heart of an angel.

Dancing upon a Tightrope of Andalusian Fire

What astounds most in Dueñas’s playing is not merely her pinpoint intonation, but the feral rhythmic vitality drawn directly from her native Andalusia.

In Caprice No. 1, the flying arpeggios do not sound like dry scale exercises; they shimmer like spray leaping from the Moorish fountains of the Alhambra. In No. 9 (“La Chasse”), her double stops evoke hunting horns echoing through morning mists, agile as a deer darting through pine woods.

And in the legendary Caprice No. 24 in A minor—the theme that captivated Liszt, Brahms, and Rachmaninoff—her execution is exhilarating. Left-hand pizzicatos snap like flamenco guitar rasgueados; high harmonic double-stops ring like icicles. Yet every blinding variation remains anchored in deep vocal lyricism.

Her tone never turns harsh or brittle; it retains a golden, olive-oil roundness and bloom even at maximum velocity.

The Devil Dismantled

The second disc enriches the experience with chamber collaborations alongside pianists Itamar Golan and Alexander Malofeev, framing Paganini within a wider two-century historical perspective.

Late at night under a desk lamp, when the thunderous final chord of the 24th Caprice snaps into silence, you will exhale with wonder. The Italian legend once whispered to be cursed has been liberated by a young Spanish woman’s bow. In the fading vibration, what lingers is not the sulfur of hell, but a fresh crimson rose blooming in the dawn.