Wigmore Hall
Rhapsody no.1, BB94a
Sonata in E minor for violin
and piano, BB28Hungarian Folk Tunes from For Children, BB53, arr. Szigeti and Bartók
Violin Sonata no.2 in C major, BB85
I doubt one can ever have too
much Bartók; I have certainly never felt any such thing, and did not in this
recital of music for violin and piano, two instruments which owe him so much,
the piano, if anything, still more than the violin. Listeners often have very
strong views about the ‘right’ way to perform his works; indeed, a friend of
mine who was present, was less than keen on these performances, very much
preferring what I might call a traditionally ‘Hungarian’ manner of playing,
although that description clearly begs more questions than answers. I increasingly
find myself intrigued by alternatives, not that I should wish to forsake the
fire of acknowledged classic performances. Bartók, like any great composer, is
for the world, and frankly, the last thing we need in any aspect of our lives
is more nationalism. (As for the present political situation in Hungary…)
At any rate, I enjoyed this
concert. I have very unhappy memories of playing the piano part in a
performance of the first Rhapsody, my recital partner and I falling out of sync
for a good few bars, as the music sped up, sounding out of control in quite the
wrong way. (I had wanted to play Webern, but anyway…!) Needless to say, this
was a far more satisfactory performance. James Ehnes has a classically golden
tone, varied when necessary, with a wide range of dynamic contrast, all put to
good use here. There were times when I found Andrew Armstrong’s pianism a
little reticent, a little too much of an ‘accompaniment’, but given my
disastrous showing, I am not inclined to be unduly harsh. During the second, ‘friss’
section, things gathered pace infectiously, Ehnes’s harmonics and crossing of
strings especially impressive, the musicians’ partnership real and convincing.
The 1903 E minor Sonata is a
fascinating piece. Very little sounds like the mature composer’s works, just as
in many of his early piano pieces, some of which I have played with greater
success – I think! – than the Rhapsody. One hears a little Strauss, certainly,
doubtless a kinship, perhaps kinship rather than influence, with Ernst von
Dohnányi, and there are certainly Brahmsian connections too, but to my ears, it
is Liszt to whom Bartók often comes closest. Structure never quite becomes
dynamic form, but this is an apprentice work, and there is much to delight and
intrigue. Here, the harmonies in particular seemed relished, especially in the
first movement, Romantically marked ‘Allegro moderato (molto rubato)’. Ehnes
and Armstrong seemed keen to point out, or maybe this just emerged naturally,
the closeness of some of Bartók’s writing in the slow movement to Brahms in ‘Hungarian’
mode, although even here, Liszt – whose contribution to ‘Hungarian’ music is
still often misunderstood – shone through. And the finale danced nicely, if not
quite convincingly. Perhaps another performance might have made something less
sectional of it, but I think the problem lies more with the work than with how
we heard it performed. This was an absorbing opportunity, nevertheless.
The ‘Hungarian Folk Tunes’ from
For Children, as arranged by Szigeti
and Bartók, made for a characterful introduction to the second half. There is a
great deal of variety to be heard here, a variety which came across in
winningly unforced fashion. The balance between folk tune and composition was
finely achieved throughout. I should happily have listened to such music for
much longer.
The principal dish, however,
was the second numbered violin sonata, an unquestionable masterpiece – and that
is how it sounded here, very much a kinsman to the string quartets. Although
the work is ‘in’ C major, its extended tonality – or whatever one wants to call
it, and the question is a real one – makes at many times the stronger
impression. Ehnes and Armstrong strongly integrated what could readily sound as
‘efects’ into the trajectory of their musical performance. One heard the formal
difference between a sonata born of old forms and happy to employ them and one
which triumphantly recreated its own form before our ears. Sonata form? Yes, if
one will, but one which takes Lisztian formal compression perhaps to an extreme
beyond Schoenberg and yet which never makes that compression seem the point. Armstrong’s
voicing of chords reminded me at times of the Piano Concertos – and of a fine
performance of them at that. Ehnes’s line was equally impressive throughout, clearly
projecting expression through the music rather than viewing it as something to
be ‘added on’. As a touching encore, we heard the early A major Andante Bartók wrote for Adila d’Arányi,
then the object of his affections, its late Romanticism providing just the
right sort of contrast.
