CD Review: Sibelius works for violin and piano (Fenella Humphreys, violin; Joseph Tong, piano) Resonus RES10294

It was perhaps inevitable that Resonus Classics would follow up Fenella Humphreys’ recording of the Sibelius violin concerto – released last year on RES10277 – with a disc of the composer’s works for violin and piano. With that earlier recording, Humphreys staked a claim to be a Sibelius violinist of the first rank; this latest release reinforces that reputation.

Listening to the recording as a whole, what really impresses is not just the tonal quality of Humphreys’ playing, which is finely focussed, but also how her duo partner Joseph Tong varies his approach from the earlier works that have a certain precision to the later ones, which have a greater sense of romantic flair.

Sibelius might have harboured ambitions to be a concert violinist that were never truly realised, but what he left the world instead included the delightful duo miniatures included here, the violin concerto (of course) and a lovely late suite for violin and small ensemble, which deserves to be better known. Throughout all these, he penned works that possess the stylish sense of line and ambiance that was his own particular preserve. There’s nothing wrong with the melodies, be they spun with delightful artfulness in the ‘Religioso’, Op. 78 No. 3 or the urbane rusticity of Danses champêtres Op. 106.  There is much else to enjoy, too, in the piano writing – nowhere more so than in the tolling bells of ‘Die Glocken’, Op. 115 No. 4.

How do Humphreys and Tong compare to the competition? The short answer is admirably well. Their recording is more focussed and clearer than that of Kaija Saarikettu (violin) and Hui-Ying Liu (piano) on the Finlandia label. I find their recording is more resonant in terms of acoustic and more Romantically rich in timbre to really show Sibelius off in his best light. Better by far to turn to the latest recording by Fenella Humphreys and Joseph Tong. It is a recording that will repay repeated listening. Useful liner notes accompany the release.

CD Review: Maija Einfelde Violin sonatas (Magdalēna Geka, violin; Iveta Calite, piano) Skani 129

If art does not always imitate life, it can certainly echo it. For a case in point, then look no further than the Latvian composer Maija Einfelde (born 1939). As the liner notes to this release make clear, Einfelde has endured a complicated and rather winding path to the widespread acceptance of her compositions. A difficult childhood often away from her parents, then not seeing eye-to-eye with her professor at the Latvian Conservatory of Music, followed by disputes with the Composers’ Union during the Soviet years when they did pretty much everything they could to thwart her creative spirit are just three instances of obstacles that had to be overcome.

In the Latvian context, Einfelde’s three sonatas for violin and piano, plus a further sonata for solo violin, constitute an important contribution to the genre. Listening to this recording from beginning to end, a repeating characteristic jumps out – in a word, it is edginess. That is not to say that it present in every movement – if that was the case the music would risk being just one oppressive page after another, which is not the case at all. But edge is definitely central to Einfelde’s idiom, and to go back to where I began, perhaps that’s only to be expected.

The first sonata, from 1980, is in four brief contrasting movements. The first is free-flowing yet has that edge in her use of harmonics, the second is more emphatic, the third is stuck in stasis and the fourth has a yearning character.

The second sonata, written in 1985, condenses the form to three movements. The opening movement starts with dramatic flourish before it looks inwards and becomes more pensive. The middle movement is a somewhat unexpected Minuet, scored with delicacy and consummate technical knowledge. The closing movement initially appears to be a piano solo, but once the violin joins proceedings the music proceeds with amiability.  This might have captured – one conjectures – a moment of rare peace for the composer.

The third sonata, from 1990 in two movements, brings forth that edginess again. This time, it takes a different form. The first movement, played as slowly as possible, creeps inexorably to a heated pitch that excites and disturbs in equal measure. The second movement contrasts, thankfully, with a more peaceful aspect.

The solo sonata, from 1997, has Bartok’s Second Violin Sonata as its model, as Einfelde held it to be an ‘ideal’. Of the three movements the middle one is the most demanding for both player and listener – at times one might think the violinist is playing razor wire rather than strings, such is its all-encompassing forcefulness. This goes some way beyond mere edginess.

The violinist Magdalēna Geka and pianist Iveta Cālīte prove fully up to the demands of this music, both technically and in terms of its spirit. The recording is first rate, proving that Latvian music is in safe hands with the Skani label. Bring on further releases, and soon, as many treasures of the Latvian repertoire deserve a wider audience.

CD Review: Ysaÿe Discoveries (Sherban Lupu, violin / Henri Bonamy, piano / Liepāja Symphony Orchestra / Paul Mann) Divine Art DDA25222

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.

This latest release, on which all but one short track is a world premiere recording, is the result of many years’ research in the Royal Library of Belgium in Brussels and the Royal Conservatoire of Liège. Qianyi Fan’s lengthy booklet essay makes clear that with this project, Lupu pays homage to Joseph Gingold, with whom he studied in the 1970s. Gingold himself studied with Ysaÿe for three years from 1972. Qianyi Fan’s excellent essay also gives background on Ysaÿe and each of the works, including many insightful comments from Lupu himself.

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.

This recording was reviewed from a promotional download.

Concert review: Pauline Viardot songs and violin sonatine (Guildhall School of Music & Drama)

The French-born mezzo-soprano of Spanish origin, Pauline Viardot (1821-1910) enjoyed a varied career as an internationally renowned singer, actress, teacher and composer. During her performing career, which took her to Brussels, London, New York, Paris and Saint Petersburg, she sang 33 different operatic roles and knew many of the leading composers, several of whom dedicated works to her.

Such a career is remarkable in its own right, but when you take into account the artistic prowess of her immediate family, perhaps it was only to be expected. Her father, Manuel was a tenor; her mother Maria-Joaquína was a singer, as was her older brother Manuel. Most famous of all though was her older sister, Maria Malibran, who is particularly remembered for her interpretations of several Rossini and Bellini operatic roles.
 

[Image credit: Guildhall School of Music & Drama]

 
The excellent introductory notes to this enterprising concert at by postgraduate students at the Guildhall School of Music & Drama puts Viardot’s vocal writing in context:

“How did she obtain all these famous composers as friends and colleagues? No matter where she lived throughout her life, she held a Music Salon every Thursday evening in her home. Many composers would attend and use the soirée as an opportunity to perform their new and noteworthy works. Pauline would also have her students attend these salons. Many of these composers (Massenet, Gounod, Saint-Saëns, Fauré, and others) credit her with supporting their works and launching their careers.

Pauline composed for voice, choir, piano, chamber ensembles, and operas throughout her life. She also arranged piano accompaniments for her father’s songs and her brother-in-law’s violin studies. Since she had lived all over the world, her compositions did not centre around one specific style. She wrote songs (and was fluent) in French, German, Italian, Russian, and English. Pauline drew inspiration from her composer friends and used many texts from her literary friends. To Pauline’s disagreement, George Sand had always believed her compositions to be more important than her singing.”

This concert featured mezzo-soprano Anika-France Forget, sopranos Olivia Boen, Caroline Bourg,  Katherine McIndoe and Vladyslava Yakovenko, tenor Hidde Stobbe and baritone Thomas Litchev, variously accompanied by Spencer Klymyshyn, Feilin Liu and Mai Nakase. Instrumental items were performed by cellist Pedro Silva, violinist Joonas Pekonen and pianist Jakub Sladek.

This celebration of the bicentenary of Viardot’s birth was judiciously curated by Florent Mourier. It presented 14 song settings in French and one in German; the three movements of the Sonatine for violin and piano interspersed throughout the songs. To underline the intimate, salon nature of Viardot’s writing, the musicians seated themselves around a central piano; the singers stepping forward in turn for their songs. A standard lamp and rug adorned the Milton Court Concert Hall stage, thereby furthering the sense of domesticity that Viardot would have surely identified with.

Compositionally, it is impossible to ignore Viardot’s style which often embodies all the virtues of the bel canto – with its emphasis upon the singer’s tonal quality and breath control, married with a beauteous, unobtrusive accompaniment – that she knew only too well from her experience as a performer.

The creamy tone and carefully sustained vocal line produced by soprano Katherine McIndoe was matched by sensitively tasteful playing of Feilin Liu in the solitary item for this pairing, O, pauvre âme! Tempestuous passions enflamed both the vocal line and accompaniment of Désespoir, with soprano Caroline Bourg eventually catching the mood in her sole offering. Olivia Boen’s carefully sustained and assuredly ornamented vocal line in Chanson de la pluie was a delight and left me wanting to hear more from her.

More extensive partnerships also offered much to enjoy within this concert. Tenor Hidde Stobbe and his accompanist Mai Nakase presented three songs – his light tone and clear diction particularly suited the almost arie antiche quality of Plus d’espérance.  In a further song from this pairing, there was an almost wistful quality to Haï Luli. To Les attraits, accompanied by Spencer Klymyshyn, Hidde Stobbe brought a neo-classical quality through his elegant attention to the text.

A shaded tone pervaded the performance of the brief chanson Ici-bas tous les lilas meurent by Thomas Litchev. L’ombre et le jour, an exercise in vocal restraint was perfectly suited to Litchev also. In the context of this concert, Die Sterne was something of a curiousity: with both piano and cello accompanying the vocal part. The whole proved plaintive in tone and very much heart-on-sleeve throughout, fittingly matching the character of Pushkin’s original poem in its German translation.

Vladyslava Yakovenko’s first contribution, Bonjour mon Coeur, brought out the song’s bravura character with ease, sparklingly partnered by Spencer Klymyshyn. La coquette was delivered with suitable ornamentation and assurance which did not deny the underlying sense of insouciance its place. The airy, breathy quality brought to Gentilles hirondelles seemed appropriate to a song concerned with airborne birds.

Altogether more Spanish flavour and emotion was evidenced by Anika-France Forget in Madrid. Together with her accompanist Mai Nakase, Anika-France was fully convincing of the inner emotions felt by a chastised lover in Reproches. Le miroir continued in the same vein. How good it would be to hear more from this pairing in particular.

The Sonatine for violin and piano enjoyed a most winning performance. The opening Adagio, replete with yearning passion in its flowing solo line, was most sensuously played by Joonas Pekonen. Jakub Sladek’s accompaniment also did not conceal the passion in Viardot’s writing. The Allegro/Scherzo second movement picked up the Spanish flavour once again in its romantic, heartfelt instrumental lines – indeed, the only thing that might prevent this becoming a winning and highly ornamented song was the lack of a text. The closing Allegro movement rounded out not only the Sonatine but this concert too with music that put Viardot’s gift for lyricism and flourish once again to the fore. Both these qualities Joonas Pekonen and Jakub Sladek delivered with ease. If this concert was anything to by then Viardot’s music is worthy of wider attention, as it is finely written and full of excellent melodies.

A further Viardot rarity, a staging of her opera Cendrillon, was also recently performed at Guildhall School. I shall review this once the video stream is available online.
Reviewed via video stream

CD Review: Dan Dediu: Hybrids, Hints & Hooks (Irina Muresanu, violin; Valentina Sandu-Dediu, piano) Metier MSV 28621

Dan Dediu (b. 1967) has a significant reputation as a contemporary composer in his native Romania, holding a professorial post at the National Music University in Bucharest. He has written many works in virtually every genre, several of which have been performed internationally. The discography of his works is comparatively thin, so for that reason alone Divine Art are to be congratulated on bringing some of Dediu’s compositions to a wider audience through this release on their Metier label. My first encounter with Dediu’s music was at a concert in Bucharest over 15 years ago. At the time, if I am really honest, I didn’t take to it as I found it somewhat impenetrable on a single hearing. However, I have long thought that Dediu would be a composer worth revisiting.

An introduction to the recording is available on Youtube.

The works are not presented in chronological order, but as Dediu’s voice is equally assured across all the works, it’s not really a sense of development that this release is aiming to convey. Rather, it’s that Dediu’s music plays with forms and structures, often taking its starting points from disparate sources.  Indeed, violinist Irina Muresanu’s booklet foreword confirms this: “Dan Dediu is musical wizard who conjures styles and ideas from different eras, moulding them into a cohesive musical discourse that is unmistakably his own.”

The result is often simultaneously arresting, earnest yet quirky and demands that any listener pay it close attention. An initial play-through of this recording confirms that this is not music to be approached lightly. Dediu’s own concise liner notes helpfully introduce the listener to each of the four works on this disc, each of which is a first recording.

Don Giovanni/Juan ‘SonatOpera’, Op. 53 (violin & piano) – Written in 1995 for Muresanu and Sandu-Dediu in two movements, it is intended as something larger than a standard duo sonata. Dediu hints at the almost operatic proportions of his ‘SonatOpera’ by calling the movements ‘Acts’. He fleetingly draws upon motivic elements from Mozart’s Don Giovanni and Strauss’ Don Juan within his compositional tableaux. Do not think that Dediu just moulds sources into a new structure, rather, he hints at his sources with sleight of hand in music that is entirely original. Just as you get even the slightest of grasps on what the sources might be, they are gone and Dediu has plunged headlong into the music’s next aspect. Both acts are dynamically varied and involving. Act 1 begins with a dramatic ‘overture’ before plunging through a sequence of linked expressive quasi-operatic episodes, of arias, recitatives and duets. The writing is fluid and possessing its own sense of momentum; this continues throughout Act II also. There is no mistaking the sweeping, virtuosic verve that both players imbue the music with, making a fully convincing case for it.

Sonata for solo violin, Op. 7 – Written in 1987, when Dediu was 19, is a work that keeps soloist and listener alike on their toes with the contrasts between the two movements and the many twists and turns that the composition takes. As in the other solo violin work included on this release – À la recherché de La Marseillaise de Stravinsky, Op. 134, written some 31 years later in 2008.  The latter piece is another hybrid work: this time the tune of La Marseillaise as transcribed for solo violin by Stravinsky is given an imaginative contextual setting conceived by Dediu. Muresanu fearlessly meets the challenges posed within both works head on through a powerful technique tempered by her innate musicality.

The recording concludes with A Mythological Bestiary, scored for violin and piano in 2008 it was yet another work written for Muresanu. Comprising of musical portraits of six mythological beings drawn from European mythology – Griffin, Unicorn, Mandragora, Sphynx, Hippogriffin and Dragon – the composition encompasses a variety of styles, dramatic and inferences (or hints) towards the intended subject. As ever, Dediu’s writing can take sudden and subtle twists that amplify the portrait – the Sphinx’s riddle is portrayed through haunting, momentary shifts to the minor key. Impressive as Muresanu’s playing is, I find the pianism of Sandu-Dediu to be just as significant, her touch particularly in pianissimo passages is highly effective.

The recordings, made at the National University of Music in Bucharest, date from January 2014. Why it’s taken until now for them to be published is anyone’s guess, but better now than never. The recorded acoustic is relatively dry; Muresanu’s violin is forewardly placed against Sandu-Dediu’s piano in the duo pieces. There is no mistaking the dedication of both musicians in executing Dediu’s works and it is a testament to their longstanding professional association with the composer. So much so, that for the listener in search of new discoveries this release proves revealing of different aspects upon repeated listening. If you are feeling adventurous, why not give this a try.