Ensemble Diderot, lead by Johannes Pramsohler, have completed a
project begun by the great Reinhard Goebel with Musica Antiqua Köln (who
disbanded in 2007). Goebel & MAK recorded six of Johann Friedrich Meister’s (c1638-1697) twelve Trio Sonatas, ‘Il Giardino del piacere’ as
their final enterprise, and Goebel himself asked Pramsohler and the Ensemble
Diderot to record the final six. All the
Sonatas have multiple, relatively short movements, based on dance forms, but
Meister was one of the first, if not the first German composer to take the
prevailing style of Lully and others and move the music away from the
‘danceable’ forms to what became Ars combinatoria. So the French and
Italian styles were developed and combined, creating a more intellectual ‘art
music’. So whilst the Gigue in this ninth sonata has a real bounce,
played by the Ensemble Diderot with lively spirit, it is no longer obviously a
simple dance. The Corrente of the twelfth sonata has real rhythmic
spice, with accented offbeats, and the Allemanda of the same piece has
striking upbeats, all creating great interest and once again moving the form
away from the expected. The Ensemble Diderot vary the textures too, with the
harpsichord dropping out of the Sarabanda in the twelfth, leaving the
cello to provide a walking bass line. On
the other hand, the harpsichord provides delicate touches to the seventh
sonata’s Sarabanda, and the violins
stylishly emphasise the offbeats in the first sonata’s Sarabanda, demonstrating the variety Meister creates in a seemingly
homogenous choice of structure. The third sonata contains a beautiful Adagio,
with the cello starting each phrase with long held notes over which the violins
and harpsichord weave plangent cries – here cellist Gulrim Choi maintains a
perfectly even, semplice sound for the others to work off. The Fuga movements are often brief, but
allow for great interplay between the two violins, particularly noticeable in
the seventh sonata. These are exquisite sonatas, and from the performances
here, it was easy to see how much the players have taken this music to heart.
Sergei Prokofiev’s (1891-1953) three Piano Sonatas, Nos. 6, 7 and 8 were completed
between 1940 and 1944, although he had begun work in 1939, and they are perhaps
understandably collectively known as the ‘War
Sonatas’ (although when he composed the first of these, the Soviet Union
were still to enter the war). Prokofiev
didn’t necessarily conceive them to be performed as a trilogy, but there are
clear links between them, both in specific detail such as the ‘fate’ motif
which crops up in all three, but also in emotional depth and content, and world
events of the time are never far from one’s mind when hearing them. There is a consistent mood of conflict here,
never fully resolved, with moments of highly disturbing tension. Even in the more romantic calm of the 8th
Sonata, fate is still present, although perhaps there is a hint of happier
thoughts, given that Prokofiev dedicated this sonata to Mira Mendelssohn, for
who he left his first wife and family in 1939. Peter Donohoe gives the slow movement in particular of this sonata full
lyricism and weighty emotion. In total
contrast, his finale of the 7th Sonata is truly exciting and he
gives the incessant repeated notes real energy and drive. Yet it is in the 6th Sonata’s slow
movement that Donohoe achieves the most disturbing combination of moments of
surface lyricism over dark, ominous harmonies, before showing total command in the
relentless toccata-like finale. There is
a darkness throughout these works that is sometimes lost in performances that
focus purely on the virtuosic demands – of which there are many – and Donohoe
is able to fully exploit the complex undercurrents of these great works. Donohoe
recorded the 7th Sonata a staggering 33 years ago, and then again
with the other two War Sonatas in 1991, and these performances were acclaimed
at the time. So he has clearly lived
with these sonatas for a long time, and having recorded the other six sonatas
in two previous volumes, it is perhaps significant that he has saved the War
Sonatas for last in this highly authoritative complete cycle.
Violinist
Tasmin Little has brought three
little known works for violin and orchestra by English composers to her latest
recording with Sir Andrew Davis and
the BBC Philharmonic. First comes the lyrical Concerto, Op. 80 by Samuel Coleridge-Taylor (1875-1912). Born
in London to a male medical student from Sierra Leone and an English woman, he
trained as a violinist and composer from an early age at the Royal College of
Music, but in his latter years became successful in the US, where he was rather
dubiously dubbed ‘the black Mahler’ on account of his impressive
conducting. His most successful work, Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast, was for many
years a staple of British choral societies, yet little of the rest of his music
is regularly performed today. His first
version of his Violin Concerto used a number of African-American melodies and
spirituals, with a finale based on ‘Yankee Doodle’. However, he changed his mind, completely
rewriting the work using his own melodic material instead. A Dvořák-esque flavour
remains, à la New World Symphony, but the touchingly lyrical slow movement has
real inspiration. The finale is full of joy and spirit, and Little enjoys the
syncopation and use of the violin’s upper reaches here. Frederick Delius (1862-1934) composed his Suite
for Violin and Orchestra in Paris around 1888, and its four movements have
a beautiful simplicity in their individual characters. An opening lyrical Pastorale is followed by a
dancing Intermezzo. The song-like Élégie contains some lush brass writing, but
this is basically a chance for the violin to sing in an unashamedly romantic
fashion – and Little exploits this to the full.
The Finale has a rather conventional feel, with less of an individual
Delius voice, but is not without interest. Finally, we have a Concerto from Haydn Wood (1882-1959).
Yorkshire born, he grew up on the Isle of Man, but like
Coleridge-Taylor, studied the violin from an early age at the RCM, also
studying composition with Stanford. Perhaps more famous for writing songs (eg. Roses of Picardy), musical comedies and
light orchestral music, he nevertheless produced a small number of larger scale
works, of which the Violin Concerto is one.
This is warm, romantic music, without any edge – yet with moments of
deft touch in orchestration, such as the use of harp in the opening movement,
and the exquisite horn solo at the beginning of the slow movement leading to
the violin’s first entry. Little is
supported throughout by warm and sensitive playing from the BBC Philharmonic,
Davis keeping tempi moving to avoid overindulgence.
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