Kodály Serenade, Op. 12 (1919-20) Korngold String Sextet in D major, Op. 10 (1914-16)
CBSO Strings: Kate Suthers & Charlotte Skinner (violins), Adam Römer & Jessica Tickle (violas), Miguel Fernandes & Helen Edgar (cellos)
CBSO Centre, Birmingham Thursday 27 January 2022 2pm
Written by Richard Whitehouse
Two unfamiliar while appealing works were featured in this afternoon’s Centre Stage recital given by string players from the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, written during the early stages and in the aftermath of the First World War at a pivotal time in European culture.
The focus on choral and pedagogic music of Kodály’s later years makes his earlier chamber works the more valuable, and while the Serenade for two violins and viola is by no means the most imposing, its deftness and finesse of writing for this unusual line-up cannot be gainsaid. The lively outer movements abound in those allusions to and inflections of folk melodies that Kodály explored extensively in his maturity, with the central Lento touching upon a vein of ‘night music’ less inwardly intense than if equally evocative to that found in the music of his contemporary Bartók. Its relatively extended formal trajectory can make the final Vivo seem unduly prolix, yet in so buoyant and finely integrated a performance, there was no likelihood of this movement forgoing any sense of direction on its way to a decidedly nonchalant close.
Kodály was around 30 when writing this piece, whereas Korngold was barely out of his teens when he finished the Sextet as draws equally on very different (if by no means incompatible) stylistic traits evident in works for this medium by Tchaikovsky and Schoenberg. If the latter composer is to the fore in the lengthy initial Moderato with its intricate thematic interplay and frequent density of texture, the Adagio exudes a melodic eloquence denoting those operas or film-scores to come. The ensuing Intermezzo is arguably the most characteristic movement in its suavity and teasingly coy charm, while the Finale looks back to Brahms and even Dvořák (whose Sextet would be a welcome inclusion in these recitals) for its underlying vitality and easy-going humour as makes the coda’s rush to the finish the more unexpected and engaging.
Such was the impression left by a finely prepared reading by no means lacking in spontaneity or those flights of fancy such as denote the ‘confidence of youth’. Quintets are the order of the day for the next Centre Stage recital, which features contrasting works by Mozart and Brahms.
You can read more about that next Centre Stage recital, and book tickets, on the CBSO website
The string quartets of Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1977) hold a special place in my heart. At various times they have moved, inspired and consoled me.
Of course, it’s not just me. Wendy Lesser has written an outstanding book about the quartets, Music for Silenced Voices, in which she considers the great Russian composer’s life through the quartets whilst examining the music through a non-musician’s lens.
Stephen Joseph has written a powerful, honest and compelling essay on the composer, How Shostakovich Changed My Mind, and how his music helped with Joseph’s mental illness, which includes a section on the “exceptional phenomenon” that is the Eighth Quartet.
Shostakovich (seen above with the Beethoven Quartet) is renowned for the range of his symphonic work. He completed his first symphony in 1926 and his final symphony (there were also fifteen) was completed in 1971. He worked under the Soviet system and after early official recognition often fell out of favour with the Communist regime including denunciation during the Stalin era. The quartets were written over the period 1938-1974 and are often said to reveal a more personal side of Shostakovich in a way that his symphonies, which were subject to greater scrutiny by the Soviet authorities, don’t. One shouldn’t overstretch this, but there is certainly a deep sense of his own voice in the quartets.
There are a number of recordings of the complete cycle of quartets and amongst the most cited are those by the Emerson String Quartet, the Beethoven Quartetand the Borodin Quartet. All are worth your time – the Emersons (recorded before live audiences) being a good place to start:
Meanwhile the Beethovens are of significant interest because of the special relationship they had with the composer (they premiered most of the quartets):
I have a soft spot for the Borodins, who provided my introduction to the quartets (I still have the brilliantly designed box set of recordings from 1978-1983 reissued in 2006 by the Russian Мелодия label)
Wendy Lesser writes that Shostakovich always knew how his music should sound and her book contains a wonderful story from Valentin Berlinsky, cellist of the Borodin Quartet, concerning one of the quartets that illustrates this perfectly. Recalling preparing for a performance of the Third Quartet in the company of Shostakovich some years after its premiere, Berlinsky states:
“I said…’we’ve given it some thought…It seems to us that pizzicato [rather than arco] sounds better here.’
‘Yes, yes,’ he hastily interrupted, pizzicato is much better, but please play arco all the same.'”
Of course, each of the quartets can be appreciated as an individual piece of music in its own right. But there is also something about hearing them played in one chronological series that gives something of a narrative thread. Lesser also writes of the “vital power” of Shostakovich’s quartets in live performance “that makes any interpretation seem incomplete until it is played before an audience”. Which brings me to the incredible feat that was the Carducci String Quartet – Matthew Denton (violin), Michelle Fleming (violin), Eoin Schmidt-Martin (viola) and Emma Denton (cello) – performing the full cycle of all fifteen quartets in chronological order in five magnificent concerts over two days on the weekend of 22-23 January 2022 at London’s Wigmore Hall.
Total admiration must go to the Carduccis for the dedication and application sustained over the two days and evident from the very first concert starting at 11:30 in the morning on the Saturday. Comprising of the first four quartets, it was for me probably the pick of the (pretty consistently impressive) bunch. The First Quartet was bright before the opening of the Second Quartet gripped with its bold first movement and a second movement featuring some absolutely yearning and sorrowful first violin. The stabbing ‘forces of war unleashed’ (to cite Shostakovich’s supposedly original subtitle) in the third movement of the Third Quartet was another arresting highlight.
More has been written about the Eighth Quartet than all the others combined and it has acquired a special status not least because, although dedicated ‘to the victims of fascism and war’, it is often considered to be Shostakovich’s memorial to himself, featuring as it does not only quotations from some of his other works, but his famous ‘DSCH’ musical monogram. It ended the second of the concerts with the Carduccis giving full musical and dramatic effect to the fevered second movement and forceful fourth movement.
Indeed, there were times when watching the Carduccis perform was just as gripping as listening to them play. This was the case in the ‘furioso’ second movement of the Tenth Quartet, which was near-exhausting to watch and featured in the third concert of the series which opened Sunday’s proceedings, as did the Eleventh Quartet with a deft dealing of its repetitions.
Picture (c) John Earls
The fourth concert gave particular effect to Shostakovich’s inventiveness showcasing the Twelfth Quartet with its mixing of Schoenberg’s twelve-tone serialism and more familiar harmony as well as the unsettling Thirteenth Quartet with the Carduccis opting to tap the fingerboards of their instruments with their fingers rather than bodies of the instruments with bows for the percussive elements. The Thirteenth Quartet also featured some enthrallingly eerie sliding on the viola as well as a wonderfully dramatic finale.
The final concert comprised of the last two quartets ending with the Fifteenth Quartet. The longest of the quartets it was completed in 1974 when Shostakovich was in hospital having been diagnosed with lung cancer. Its six desolate slow movements give a sense of mortality and the lack of a dedication has led to a notion that Shostakovich may have written it as an unofficial elegy for himself. It was played with appropriate respect and sensitivity, something that was recognised by the sustained silence from the audience following its – and the cycle’s – completion before generous and well-earned applause.
This remarkable series of concerts was a precious reminder of what an exceptional body of work Shostakovich’s string quartets are and how any one of them can stand on its own. But there is definitely something special about hearing them together and the Carducci String Quartet in this unforgettable weekend of concerts demonstrated how both hold true. However, it is the full cycle that I want and what I will be asking for on Desert Island Discs.
John Earls is Director of Research at Unite the Union and tweets at @john_earls
Domenico Scarlatti Sonata in C minor Kk56; Sonata in C Kk159 ‘La caccia’; Sonata in B minor Kk27; Sonata in B minor Kk87; Sonata in G Kk427 (exact dates unknown) Mozart Piano Sonata in A minor K310 (1778) Ravel Sonatine (1903-05) Prokofiev Piano Sonata no.3 in A minor Op.28 (1917)
Wigmore Hall, London, 24 January 2022
reviewed by Ben Hogwood from the online broadcast
Seven sonatas and a sonatine in the space of an hour represents good value for a lunchtime concert – and even more so when the works in question span nearly two centuries. This was down to the clever programming of German pianist Elisabeth Brauß, a member of the BBC New Generations Scheme. She presented a potted history of the development of the sonata, moving as it did to the very centre of the concert platform by the twentieth century.
Brauß began her imaginatively thought-out hour with five sonatas by Domenico Scarlatti, just under 1% of the composer’s remarkable output in the form. Within his 550 or so published works there is an inexhaustible variety, and Brauß gave us some fine examples. Her crisp delivery of the C minor work was complemented by the playful ‘Caccia’ sonata, Scarlatti’s writing of parallel thirds tastefully ornamented in the right hand. Slipping into B minor, there was a more obvious Bach influence in an elegant performance of the Kk27 sonata, before a more reflective example in the same key, given plenty of room with ideally weighted inside parts. This thoughtful and emotive account was swept to one side by the showy G major sonata, chasing the clouds away.
Mozart‘s A minor sonata followed, a profound work written in the wake of the sudden illness and death of the composer’s mother Anna Maria in Paris, 1778. The principal phrase of the first movement is conspicuous for a ‘wrong’ note, an E flat played at the same time as an A minor chord, which can throw the listener. Brauß did well to give it the surprise factor, resulting in quite an unnerving and uncertain mood.
The second movement was initially calm, bringing out the singing style of Mozart’s marking of Andante cantabile con espressione rather beautifully. There was a refreshing lack of weight to this performance, the melodies floating on air, in contrast to a heavy-set middle section. The Presto finale, initially serious, brightened as the tonality moved into the major key, Brauß sensing hope in Mozart’s writing.
There was clarity in her Ravel, too, which found the right combination of technical flair and intimacy. Brauß portrayed the questioning nature of the first movement, just before its main theme returns and resolves. A limpid second movement was followed by a finale notable for its virtuosity – following the Animé marking – but which kept its conversational qualities.
Prokofiev’s Piano Sonata no.3 is a compressed firecracker, a work with plenty to say in its eight minutes. This performance was very impressive if holding back a little in the more raucous moments. Brauß was a more than capable guide to this impetuous piece, however, finding the heart of the adventurous coda, which sounds a lot newer than its 1917 composition date would suggest.
She clearly loves Prokofiev, as the Prelude in C major Op.12/7 made an ideal encore, bringing out the composer’s balletic side. There was less percussiveness in this lyrical account, notable for some lovely melodic phrasing.
Watch and listen
You can listen to the repertoire from this concert in choice recordings on the Spotify playlist below (Elisabeth has not yet recorded any of the pieces):
Tchaikovsky arr. Woods String Quartet No. 3 in E flat minor, Op. 30 (1876)
Wyastone Concert Hall, Monmouth 12-13 July 2021
Written by Richard Whitehouse
The English String Orchestra launched its schedule for 2022 with another premiere – that of Tchaikovsky’s Third Quartet in an arrangement by Kenneth Woods, continuing a line of such rethinking which has previously included Brahms’s Second Piano Quartet (Nimbus NI6364).
Completed early in 1876, this work came about through the premature demise of Ferdinand Laub who led those premieres of Tchaikovsky’s previous quartets and whom the composer held in highest regard. Its tonic-key is unexpected yet influential (notably on Shostakovich), not least in an opening movement where the Andante introduction leads to an Allegro whose fervent striving never quite breaks free of the fatalism from which it emerges and to which it returns. Woods might have made more of that Allegro’s undulating emotions, but his take on its introduction and coda duly enhanced their sombre intensity. Nor was there any lack of wit or urbanity in the next movement, poised unerringly between scherzo and intermezzo, which could become almost as popular as the waltz of the Serenade for Strings in this incarnation.
Interesting that Tchaikovsky belatedly reversed the order of the middle movements, given the Andante funebre is the undoubted highpoint of this work and its impact would be diminished if heard earlier in the overall design. Moreover, Woods’ arrangement was at its finest here in terms of the interplay between solo and ensemble strings – those soliloquys for violin, viola and cello given added pathos by the greater textural depth; not least as the movement reaches its anguished climax then subsides into the chant-inflected elegy of its closing stages. Maybe the finale would have conveyed even more a sense of release at a swifter tempo, but Woods was scrupulous as regards its ‘non troppo’ marking; nor was there any lack of resolve as this movement headed on its impetuous course towards a decisive and life-affirming conclusion.
A convincing new guise, then, for arguably the finest of Tchaikovsky’s chamber works (not least compared to the over-inflated arrangements of Souvenir de Florence), and a welcome reminder of the ESO’s collective prowess whether heard in original pieces or transcriptions.
You can view this concert from 21-25 January at the ESO website, and thereafter for ESO digital supporters here. Meanwhile for information on the ESO’s latest release of the music of Steven R. Gerber, clickhere
Poulenc Sonata for Clarinet and Bassoon, FP32 (1922); Trio for Oboe, Bassoon and Piano, FP43 (1924-6); Sextet for Wind Quintet and Piano, FP100 (1931-2, rev. 1939-40)
City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra Members: Marie-Christine Zupancic (flute),Emmet Byrne (oboe), Oliver Janes (clarinet), Nikolaj Henriques (bassoon), Elspeth Dutch (horn), Robert Markham (piano)
CBSO Centre, Birmingham Friday 21 January 2022 2pm
Written by Richard Whitehouse
It made sense to devote a programme in the Centre Stage series – put on by musicians of the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra – to the chamber music of Poulenc, which is hardly less representative than those vocal and choral pieces that likewise run throughout his output.
Increasing in size and substance, the three works this afternoon were also a viable overview of the composer’s evolution during the interwar period. The Sonata for Clarinet and Bassoon finds Poulenc teasing out the expressive potential of Stravinsky’s often inscrutable chamber music from the previous decade; its Allegro and Final movements pursuing an agile dialogue whose harmonic astringency is offset by the wistful insouciance of its central ‘Romance’, in which the interplay between Oliver Janes and Nikolaj Henriques was at its most persuasive.
Stravinsky evidently had a direct output into the composition of the Trio for Oboe, Bassoon and Piano which, cut from similar stylistic cloth to the earlier piece, reveals greater emotional range. Not least in the opening movement’s pointed contrast between its wistful introduction and headlong Presto, or the Andante’s haunted charm – here emphasized by plaintive oboe playing from Emmet Byrne – whose ‘vulnerability behind the façade’ is duly swept away by a finale in which the breezy humour of the ballet Les biches comes unmistakably to the fore.
The Sextet cost Poulenc fair effort before reaching definitive form at the start of the Second World War but is arguably his most representative work at that stage. Not least in the way its animated opening Allegro makes a virtue of any imbalance between piano and wind quintet – Robert Markham keeping matters securely grounded – or sheer timbral and textural variety of the Divertissement with piquant contributions from flautist Marie-Christine Zupancic and horn player Elspeth Dutch. Nor was there any lack of verve in a Finale whose recollection of the work’s opening, now suffused with greater pathos, must surely be a comment on the times.
Eloquently realized, it brought to an end an admirable showcase for both music and musicians. Next week sees a no less engaging programme of Kodály and Korngold by the CBSO strings.
Further information on future CBSO Stage concerts can be found here
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