The Beethoven and Berg violin concertos aren’t commonly paired on
disc. However, in this case it seems like an inspired piece of programme
planning, with an account of the Berg that plumbs its depths of
melancholy, setting off a radiant, life-affirming performance of the
Beethoven.
Berg could be accused of giving too many instructions to his
performers, of not allowing enough room for individual interpretation.
He certainly presents them with plenty to think about; in the waltz-like
second section of the concerto’s second movement, Isabelle Faust is
required, within a few bars, to characterise her part as scherzando,
wienerisch and rustico. She succeeds brilliantly; one feels, in this and
other places, that such precision actually helps her to convey the
intensity of feeling that lies behind this concerto dedicated ‘to the
memory of an angel’.
Faust’s stylish way with the waltz episodes brings a suggestion of
gaiety that renders more poignant the effect of the dark, complex
harmony – a bright memory rendered sad and bitter. In the second
movement, after the fierce virtuosity she brings to the declamatory
opening section, she chooses the alternative version of the canonic
cadenza (suggested by the composer) where she is joined by a solo viola,
rather than realising unaided the four-part counterpoint. This passage
sounds truly beautiful, like an uneasy oasis of calm in the middle of
turbulent conflict, and I’ve become convinced it’s the best way to hear
the music.
Abbado and the Orchestra Mozart also take careful notice of the
score’s myriad directions, and the effect is similarly to liberate the
intensity and beauty of the music. After the harrowing climax at the end
of the first part of the second movement, where the Bach chorale (whose
melody is related to Berg’s 12-note row) makes its appearance, the
effect of having the grieving voice of the solo violin answered by the
clarinet choir more quietly, but also slightly faster, and so less
weighed down, is perfectly realised – we immediately appreciate why Berg
wrote it so.
Few recordings of the Berg have achieved this level of detailed
commitment from soloist and orchestra. One that does so is Josef Suk’s,
made in 1968 with the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra under Karel Ančerl,
and they manage to stay closer to Berg’s metronome markings – some
passages in Faust’s recording are on the slow side, though I can’t see
that it spoils the performance in any way. And this new account enjoys
more mellifluous recorded sound, with far superior definition.
Beethoven may not give as many directions as Berg, but from the very
first bars the Orchestra Mozart’s woodwind choir show the same care over
detail, the instruments perfectly balanced and with a commitment to
bringing out the music’s soulful, expressive character. This sets the
tone for the performance, Abbado encouraging his players to maximise the
expressive quality of each theme, while keeping a firm hand on the
unfolding of the larger design. He and Faust see eye to eye in wishing
to preserve a proper Allegro ma non troppo for the first movement and
not to be awed by the work’s reputation into presenting it as a grand,
Olympian utterance with little vitality (as on the Maxim
Vengerov/Rostropovich recording). It’s not just a matter of tempo,
either; to all the running passages in the first movement and finale,
Isabelle Faust brings a spirited style that at moments becomes
positively fiery. A notable example is her cadenza in the finale (track
5, 6'20"). Faust bases her cadenzas and lead-ins on those Beethoven
wrote for his adaptation of the work as a piano concerto. This is often
an uncomfortable option: Beethoven’s cadenzas (that in the first
movement includes an important role for timpani) take the music in
surprising directions – more extrovert and playful – and it’s quite
difficult to arrange some passages idiomatically for the violin.
However, by judicious omission, brilliant playing and sheer conviction,
Faust finds a solution that’s both authentically Beethovenian and
violinistically convincing.
The Larghetto’s initial theme is most sensitively shaped by the
Orchestra Mozart strings and, at Faust’s entry, she is accompanied by
especially beautiful solo clarinet and bassoon lines. In this movement,
Faust finds a particularly wide range of tone colour, twice receding to
the merest whisper and in several places practically omitting vibrato,
relying for expression on changes in bow speed and pressure, so creating
a powerful sense of concentration in the melodic line. It’s entirely
characteristic of this performance that the sudden orchestral outburst
at the end of the Larghetto, heralding the cadenza that leads to the
finale, which so often seems inappropriately formal, here comes as a
shocking surprise, a rude awakening from an exquisite dream.
In recent years, there have been several fine recordings of the
Beethoven Violin Concerto. Faust’s performance has a grandeur that
Christian Tetzlaff’s sweeter, more intimate account doesn’t attempt to
match. Janine Jansen has the grandeur but doesn’t quite rival Faust’s
expressive range or emotional intensity. Outstanding performances of
both concertos, then; I’ll want to return to them often. (Duncan Druce / Gramophone)
Thank you!
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