Tag Archives: Vítězslava Kaprálová

Arcana at the Proms – Prom 50: Mao Fujita, Prague Philharmonic Choir, Czech Philharmonic Orchestra / Jakub Hrůša – Dvořák Piano Concerto, Kaprálová & Janáček Glagolitic Mass

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Kaprálová Military Sinfonietta Op.11 (1937) [Proms Premiere]
Dvořák (ed. Kurz) Piano Concerto in G minor Op.33 (1876)
Janáček Glagolitic Mass (1926-8)

Mao Fujita (piano); Corinne Winters (soprano), Vella Adamova (mezzo-soprano), David Butt Philip (tenor), Brindley Sharratt (bass), Christian Schmitt (organ), Prague Philharmonic Choir (choir-master Lukáš Vasilek), Czech Philharmonic Orchestra / Jakub Hrůša

Royal Albert Hall, London
Wednesday 28 August 2024

reviewed by Richard Whitehouse Photos (c) Andy Paradise

Their previous Prom having set the bar high as regards playing or interpretation, Jakub Hrůša and the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra equalled and maybe even exceeded it with a programme which once more ranged widely over what might be thought the ‘golden age’ of Czech music.

The career of Vítězslava Kaprálová (1915-40) represents one of those great ‘what ifs’ in 20th century music and works such as Military Sinfonietta confirm her already distinctive idiom. Despite involvement with Martinů, this is redolent more of interwar French music – notably Roussel – in its alternating between the extrovert and the ruminative; relative extremes held in check by ingenious adaptation of the four-movements-in-one design that draws maximum variety from its material while sustaining a cumulative momentum through to a return of the main theme for a powerful but never bombastic apotheosis. The CPO certainly relished these strongly drawn expressive contrasts, and Hrůša kept it on a tight though never inflexible rein with the sizable groups of woodwind and brass duly given their collective head at the close.

Although it has come in from cold over recent decades, Dvořák’s Piano Concerto remains an anomaly – akin to one Mendelssohn or Chopin might have written had they lived into the mid -Romantic era. Numerous pianists have returned to the demanding if unidiomatic solo part as its composer left it, but Mao Fujita (above) opted for that edited by pianist Vilém Kurz which enjoyed favour across much of the last century. Musically the piece remains much the same – opening with an extensive Allegro trenchant and yielding, but with surprisingly little of a Czech tinge to its melodic or rhythmic content. Fujita delivered a confident traversal, then brought limpid poetry to the Andante with Hrůša’s accompaniment of the subtlest. They duly made the most of the final Allegro’s driving impetus and soulful poise, prior to its lively and decisive close.

Despite early advocacy from Henry Wood, Janáček’s Glagolitic Mass only established itself at the Proms half a century after the composer’s death. Recent seasons have brought varying versions of what Janáček (might have) intended, but Hrůša chose the standard edition with a reading of blazing conviction right from the stentorian brass of its ‘Introduction’. Compact in size but forthright in tone, the Prague Philharmonic Choir brought pathos to the ‘Kyrie’ then fervency to the ‘Gloria’ with Corinne Winters and David Butt Philip fearless in their response.

More than usually a fulcrum around which this work revolves, the ‘Credo’ evinced an almost narrative dimension in its journey via speculation and ambiguity to a conclusion – typified by Brindley Sherratt’s eloquence – of radiant certainty. This carried over into the ‘Sanctus’ both sensuous and capricious, Bella Adamova making the most of her ensemble contribution here then in the ‘Agnus Dei’ whose intimation of doubt is brusquely denied by the ‘Postludium’ – a vigorous workout for solo organ in which Christian Schmitt (above) decisively assumed the limelight.

It remained for the ‘Intrada’ to round off proceedings with its pounding timpani and exultant trumpets – so setting the seal on a memorable concert which, as with its predecessor, is likely to prove a highlight of this Proms season: music-making as it can and should be experienced.

You can get details about this year’s season at the BBC Proms website – and you can click on the names to read more about pianist Mao Fujita, the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra and conductor Jakub Hrůša

Published post no.2,285 – Friday 30 August 2024

In concert – Laura van der Heijden & Jâms Coleman @ Wigmore Hall – Pohádka: Tales from Prague to Budapest

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Laura van der Heijden (cello), Jâms Coleman (piano)

Janáček Pohádka (1910, rev. 1912-23)
Dvořák Gypsy Songs Op. 55: Songs my mother taught me (1880)
Kaprálová Navždy from Navždy Op. 12 (1936-7)
Mihály Movement for cello and piano (1962)
Kodály 3 Songs to Poems by Bela Balazs Op. posth.: Why are you saying that you do not love me (1907-9); Énekszó Op. 1: Slender is a silk thread (1907-9)
Sonatina for cello and piano (1909)
Janáček Violin Sonata (1914-15, rev.1916-22)

Wigmore Hall, London, 9 March 2022

reviewed by Ben Hogwood Pictures (c) Olivia Da Costa (Laura van der Heijden), Sim Canetty-Clarke (Jâms Coleman)

It bears repeating that times are tough for new artists in music. Competition is fierce, while opportunities for live performance and recording have been severely hampered over the last two years of lockdown and pandemic restrictions. How refreshing, then, to talk about two new artists, a long term agreement with Chandos and a chamber music album notable for its originality and depth of expression.

The new artists, cellist Laura van der Heijden and her musical partner, pianist Jâms Coleman, have been performing together since 2017. Their debut album, for which this concert was an official launch, looks at music from Central and Eastern Europe with its roots in folk, either written directly for cello and piano or falling naturally into a vocal range.

The album shares its title, Pohádka, with a three-part fairy tale for cello and piano by Janáček, based on a Russian tale. This began the concert, a picture book performance bringing the story to life with sharp characterisation and flair. Janacek used a good deal of his music to explore macabre storylines and this was no exception, though the lighter, more lyrical moments were good fun. van der Heijden’s tone was sonorous and projected easily to the back of the hall, while Coleman’s stylish playing was capped with limpid work in the second section.

We then heard arrangements of two songs from Dvořák and Vítězslava Kaprálová as an idea complement, the former transcribing beautifully from voice to cello, with tasteful ornamentation from the cello. It was good to hear more of Kaprálová, a talented Czech composer who tragically died from tuberculosis when she was just 25. Her music immediately cast a spell, Coleman’s mysterious chords matched by a remote but moving line from the cello in its higher register.

Different qualities were required for the music of Hungarian composer and conductor András Mihály. His Movement for cello and piano was a dramatic rollercoaster, and rather volatile at times – reflecting perhaps the differing styles at play in modern music when it was written in 1962. While there were undoubtedly elements of Bartók and even Webern in the music’s contours, which veered into atonality at times, there was a fierce expression suggesting Mihály’s music should be explored further. Both players responded with a terrific performance, mastering the technical demands.

Zoltán Kodály was also an influence on Mihály, and his music suits the cello hand in glove, whether in large-scale sonatas or shorter, folk-informed songs. We heard two songs here, the cello a doleful voice for Why are you saying that you do not love me, while Slender is a silk thread found Coleman beautifully spinning out the silvery tale. However the single-movement Sonatina for cello and piano, at just under 10 minutes, made a lasting impression with its passion, profound lyricism and subtle melancholy. The performers’ love for this piece was clear, and the high voltage account found them finishing each other’s musical sentences.

The same could be said for Janáček’s Violin Sonata, a pungent piece whose proximity to World War One is evident in the rapid fire of its phrases. The composer’s unusual musical language was once again wholly compelling, with broad lyrical statements countered by strange, abrupt full stops to his melodies. The parallels with the current situation in Ukraine were impossible to ignore, especially with the emotion both players brought to the second movement Ballada, its sweeping melodies reaching skyward. Ultimately the acidic third and fourth movements cast a cloud over the mood, the players vividly depicting the distant sound of gunfire alongside more thoughtful introspection. van der Heijden was commendably modest about her own arrangement of the Sonata, for cello and piano, an extremely successful version losing none of the intensity or fractious treble phrases. Both players were superb, their virtuosity and togetherness notable throughout.

This was an extremely rewarding concert, energetic and romantic in turn but also thought-provoking through its wartime undercurrents. Laura van der Heijden and Jâms Coleman deserve great credit for their refreshing take on a chamber music album, which bodes well for their ongoing relationship with one of Britain’s best classical independents. Theirs is a partnership to watch closely.

Watch and listen