Showing posts with label Josef Suk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Josef Suk. Show all posts

Wednesday, 11 March 2015

Denk/ASMF/Keller - Suk, Bach, and Dvořák, 9 March 2015


Cadogan Hall

Suk – Serenade for Strings in E-flat major, op.6
Bach – Piano Concerto no.2 in E major, BWV 1053
Bach – Piano Concerto no.4 in A major, BWV 1055
Dvořák – Serenade for Strings in E major, op.22

Jeremy Denk (piano)
Academy of St Martin in the Fields (director: Tomo Keller)
 

A slightly odd programme, this: two Bach piano concertos sandwiched by string serenades by two Czech composers. Still, it doubtless made sense in the sense that there was no need for the Academy of St Martin in the Fields to field any non-string players. And, whilst the Academy has always fielded excellent instrumentalists across the board, the foundation of its excellence since its founding by Neville Marriner has always been its string playing.


There was certainly no gainsaying that excellence in the performances of Serenades of Strings by Dvořák and his son-in-law, Josef Suk. Perhaps it is simply the nature of the ensemble for which both composer call; perhaps it is being English, whether in my case or the Academy’s (despite the international provenance of its players, ably led throughout by Tomo Keller). Whatever the reason, I could not help but note on several occasions something in the sound that put me in mind of Elgar’s Serenade for Strings, op.20. That most prolific of recording artists, Sir Neville, has certainly recorded both the Dvořák and Elgar works; I do not know whether he has also left a version of the Suk. Hand on heart, it would be difficult to regret its loss too strongly. It is an amiable enough work, but its bland pleasantness, even with such gorgeous violin tone as we heard here, in a model performance of chamber music writ large, soon outstays its welcome, especially during the slow movement and finale. Dvořák’s work, unsurprisingly, has more character, although there is little that can be done about the abruptness of the finale’s transitions, a little too obviously attempting ‘cyclic’ recollection. That said, each of its five movements received sharp, attentive performances, the ASMF players clearly communicating their enjoyment in music-making. The lilt of the waltzing second movement was finely judged, as was the ‘singing’ of the melodies in the first. Rhythmic definition in the third did not lead to driving too hard, a splendid performative balance having been struck.


Would that one could have said the same for Jeremy Denk’s rendition of Bach’s E major Concerto. Every movement seemed a good few notches too fast: not necessarily a disaster, since most works can adapt to different choices of tempi. What Bach, at least to my ears, can withstand far less easy is hard-driven performance, in which the music is not given space to breathe and the harmony and its implications are not permitted to tell. At times, the playing simply sounded garbled. For the most part, it did not, but we found ourselves once again in the situation outlined by Adorno more than sixty years ago: Bach reduced to the level of a generic Baroque composer. ‘They say Bach … mean Telemann.’ As Furtwängler wrote in an essay on Bach, the ‘astonishing superiority of Bach’s music clearer … than when one compares him with other composers of his time and environment’. Not necessarily so here. Moreover, it was a pity that the ASMF players, whilst far from eschewing vibrato, did not lavish such resplendent string tone on Bach’s music as they had and would upon his Czech companions. The A major Concerto fared better in every respect. Tempi, especially during the first and second movements, remained fast, but harmony was not neglected; nor were piano bass lines merely stabbed. The slow movement had true gravity, especially on account of searching string playing, whilst the finale, both in tempo and articulation, was perhaps the finest judged Bach movement of the evening.

Monday, 9 January 2012

Sacconi Quartet - Haydn, Bartók, and Schubert, 8 January 2012

Hall One, Kings Place

Haydn – String Quartet in G major, op.77 no.1
Bartók – String Quartet no.3
Schubert – String Quartet in D minor, D810, ‘Death and the Maiden’

Ben Hancox, Hannah Dawson (violins)
Robin Ashwell (viola)
Cara Berridge (cello)

Founded at the Royal College of Music in 2001, the Sacconi Quartet here celebrated its tenth anniversary: astonishing to register, given how youthful its members look. Quartet in Association at the RCM and Quartet in Residence at the Bristol Old Vic Theatre, on this occasion, the Sacconi Quartet renewed its association with both Kings Place and the London Chamber Music Series, which holds its concerts there on Sunday evenings.

Haydn seems an obvious quartet composer to include for a celebratory concert, but there was nothing routine or dutiful about this performance of his op.77 no.1, ‘Lobkowitz’ quartet. The first movement was alert, vivacious, characterful in its treatment of the different themes, and clearly the product – audibly as well as visually – of careful listening to each other from every member of the quartet. Its cultivated sound never drew attention to itself, for joy and the communication of formal concision were very much the order of the day, though never didactically so. The Adagio flowed nicely: if the tempo were perhaps closer to Andante, or at least what I should consider to be an Andante, far more important was an excellent understanding of harmonic rhythm. Haydn’s harmonic surprises registered fully – and with wonder. If the minuet – a scherzo in all but name – sounded close to Beethoven, that is only because it is. The hiccoughing syncopations of the first violin part were wittily despatched without exaggeration by Ben Hancox. Turbulence and remnants of rusticity were well balanced in the trio. The finale captured splendidly Haydn’s quality of ‘learned popular’ style, just as in the finale, say, to the ‘London’ Symphony. This was a thrilling and delightful Presto, but through communication of the musical material, as opposed to mere speed.

Bartók’s Third Quartet received a fine performance too. All the ‘effects’ were there: the frozen opening, glassy interjections, col legno playing, and so on. Yet one realised from the outset that these were not really ‘effects’ at all, but musical necessities in an integrated performance. Concentration, both inner and formal, was to the fore. And what lyricism Bartók reveals: tender and exultant. Refraction and sublimation of folk material in the opening to the ‘Seconda parte’ were vigorous, yet always as alert to melody as to rhythm. Perhaps the Sacconi Quartet’s performance lacked the last degree of abandon, but there is nothing wrong with a relatively Classical approach. Contrapuntal clarity was certainly a beneficiary.

A far from inflexible vehemence marked the opening of Schubert’s Death and the Maiden Quartet. My only cavil was that I occasionally missed that painful Viennese sweetness some ensembles – the Amadeus Quartet, for example – have imparted to the more lyrical passages. Instead, the Sacconis tended towards Mendelssohn-like feather-lightness here: a contrast of its own, of course. The restrained opening of the slow movement variations sounded as if a stately dance from another time: a hint of the viol consort, prior to blooming – though never with the tonal refulgence that more Romantically-inclined ensembles might bring to the music. Again, a Mendelssohnian lightness was to be heard, especially during the first variation, though it was certainly not without its more passionate moments. The variations were all well characterised, with apparently increasing freedom, culminating in a quietly serene final variation, with intriguing hints of Dvořák. A vehement scherzo underlined the return to D minor, its trio duly graceful. The finale proved a tense, rhythmically insistent saltarello, troubled even in its more lyrical passages. Here the players brought a renewed intensity to the music, a heightened sense of tragedy. As an encore, we were treated to a beautiful, committed performance of Josef Suk’s Meditation on an Old Bohemian Chorale, op.35.