It should not need saying, but it’s always a mistake to think you know a composer from just a handful of their works. Whilst a selection of pieces might give you some insights, they’ll hardly ever complete the picture. Such a case in point is Eugene Ysaÿe, the great Belgian violin virtuoso-composer. Which of his works are regularly played or recorded apart from the six solo violin sonatas? (Five recordings of them are scheduled for release in the coming months). Yet, there are a legion of other works out there to be enjoyed. Phillipe Graffin recorded a posthumous seventh sonata and the Petite Fantasie Romantique on his well received 2019 release Fiddler’s Blues (Avie AV2399). Now, this latest release from Romanian violinist Sherban Lupu whets my appetite for Ysaÿe’s compositions still further.
I have known and admired Sherban Lupu’s work for many years. His promotion of the major and lesser-known violin repertoire of George Enescu (much of which he discovered, painstakingly edited and subsequently published and recorded on Toccata Classics) is worthy of greater attention. Incidentally, a second volume of Unknown Enescu is long overdue. I referenced his ground-breaking recording of the Caprice Roumain in an earlier blog post reviewing a new recording of the piece and I feel that Lupu’s reading still comes out on top. That led to a fine recording of music by the all-but-unknown - outside Romania at least - composer Theodor Grigoriu. Then a series of six releases focussed on the music of Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst, another composer of finger-achingly virtuosic violin music, also for Toccata Classics. Some violinists, even top flight ones, occasionally programme or record a work Enescu or Ernst to prove their credentials, but Sherban Lupu really lays down the gauntlet and shows what he’s made of by taking monumental challenges head on.
The first half of the recording is devoted to duo works for violin and piano, and throughout Henri Bonamy proves to be an accompanist who matches Lupu’s temperament with ease. Two Scènes Sentimentales from 1885 open the disc and they bring to the fore two qualities that recur throughout. The first one, no.3, is passionate and forthright as one might expect from a youthful work – its solo part is dispatched with sweeping virtuosity by Lupu whilst Bonamy holds nothing back either. The second, no.5, is a more reflective scene in which both parts are given playing of shading and nuance.
A five-minute Élégie (c. 1912 – Lupu’s title) is an elegant morceau de salon. As it lacked an ending upon discovery, Lupu provides his own effective one, based upon the earlier material. It’s a piece that I can see becoming a pleasing encore for any virtuoso out there, as its main melody lingered long in my memory. Lupu’s traversal of the Petite Fantasie Romantique is altogether more sensuous than that of Phillipe Graffin, which sounds just a bit emotionally detached by comparison.
In 1924, Ysaÿe organised three pieces written on separate occasions into the collection Trois Etudes-Poèmes, potentially for a publication that was never realised. The first piece, Sérénade, was found without a piano accompaniment, and the Romanian composer Sabin Pauţza provided one at Lupu’s request. The result brings out the somewhat elliptical and humourous nature of the violin line to winning effect. It’s not hard to detect the etude-like quality of the writing in the middle movement, Au ruisseau. The technical demands made of double-stopping are dispatched with ease by Lupu, whilst Bonamy doesn’t neglect his piano’s tone even in forte. The trio of works ends with its lengthiest component, the twelve-minute Cara memoria. Somewhere between a funeral march and a rhapsody, it stretches not only the listener’s emotions but the violinist’s technique with its emotional breadth and colour palette. Where perhaps another take might have resulted in cleaner playing of some passages, instead you experience the brio and driving dynamism within this somewhat daunting composition. I’d rather have it as realised every time, it does Ysaÿe’s writing many favours.
The big draw for many though will be the single-movement concerto, which takes the concerto form along the path of concentration, much as Sibelius took in his pioneering seventh symphony. It is in this concerto, as well as Cara memoria, that you hear Ysaÿe’s compositional style at its most daring and pioneering on this recording. On first audition it is a somewhat episodic work – a point of view that is perhaps emphasised by Sabin Pauţza’s colourful and atmospheric orchestration. There’s plenty of interest in the instrumental timbres employed, from refulgent deployment of the strings to some intricate playing in the percussion section. It might also be tempting to draw inferences from works that Ysaÿe is known to have played, such as the Elgar concerto. For all that, it’s still the solo part that just about knits the parts together into a comprehensible whole. It is also noticeable how Sherban Lupu’s playing responds to the extra impetus that the Liepāja Symphony Orchestra provide under Paul Mann’s assured direction. On repeated listening, both the work and interpretation hold the attention as they build towards a knowingly crafted bravura ending.
Given Lupu’s past association with Toccata Classics and its stated objective to promote ‘unknown music by great composers’ or a specialist label such as Musique en Wallonie which has done much to promote Ysaÿe’s music, it is to Divine Art’s credit that they secured the release of this recording. The recordings, made in Romania (duo pieces) and Latvia (concerto) serve the music well to capture the sense of urgency these performances deliver to reveal new aspects of Ysaÿe’s writing for the violin.
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