Pierre Boulez Saal
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| Images: Monika Rittershaus |
Violin Sonata no.5 in F major,
op.24, ‘Spring’
Violin Sonata no.6 in A major,
op.30 no.1
Violin Sonata no.7 in C minor,
op.30 no.2
Pinchas Zukerman (violin)
Daniel Barenboim (piano)
Elegant yet variegated violin
playing announced the opening of Beethoven’s Spring Sonata, one of the loveliest pieces he wrote. The way the
piano, or rather the pianist, leaned into his first melodic phrase and then
sang – piano song, not vocal, nor for that matter violin song – proved just the
ticket in response. We were to be in excellent hands, it seemed, with Pinchas
Zukerman and Daniel Barenboim: a partnership whose give-and-take was very much that
of equals. The first movement’s tempo was spot on. Rhythms were nicely sprung. Mozart’s
utopia may have vanished, yet it seemed close –shadows included, becoming more
prominent as the movement progressed. Dialogue that was magical not precious,
harmonic as well as melodic, characterised the slow movement. Mysteries were
revealed through phrasing and modulation alike. An initially frisky scherzo
turned uncomfortable, but even the finest musicians can fall out of sync on
occasion; they, like Beethoven, are only human. There was full recovery, in any
case, for a finale truly worthy of the name, already of the nineteenth century
in dramatic vigour, yet with vernal sweetness and chirpiness that looked back
as much as forward.
The first of the op.30 sonatas,
that in A major, immediately spoke with greater complexity. Barenboim and
Zukerman’s first movement seemed to communicate fully Beethoven’s balance
between profusion of material and longer line: no easy thing, be it in Mozart
or Beethoven. It was fascinating here and in the slow movement to hear that
work itself out in complement and contrast with its dramatic implications. In
the latter, the very emergence of melody in both instruments made for absorbing
– and far from easy – listening. The opening of the finale initially seemed
less enigmatic, both more straightforward and charming. Gathering of pace,
however, also afforded gathering of complexity. Here was authentic Beethovenian
struggle, brought to us via outstanding playing by any standards.
Barenboim’s communication of
harmonic rhythm, ever founded on the bass line, unleashed a stark yet sensitive
account of the C minor Sonata. First-movement rhetorical interplay between
piano and violin and motivic transformation alike fuelled the dramatic engine,
its tumultuous coda the truest of climaxes. The slow movement was songful,
soulful, sublime. What one could learn from Barenboim’s voicing of piano chords
alone! Not, of course, that one listened to any one aspect in isolation.
Dramatic eruptions gained much of their force from integration within a larger
whole. The organic may well be a Romantic construct in need of deconstruction;
it nevertheless became reality here. Accenting in the scherzo both gave the
appearance of spontaneity and spoke of an understanding that left nothing to
chance. There were many characters to encounter here, still more in a trio that
was, properly, both contrasted and related to its elder sibling. Taken attacca, a finale imbued with fury and
pathos made for a duly tragic conclusion both to the sonata and to the recital
as a whole.
