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Alix Goolden Performance Hall
August 23, 2010
In the early career of Ludwig van Beethoven, assessed in terms of his published works, it is clear that the young composer is gradually progressing from music involving his own instrument, towards music which either does not utilise the piano, or which is scored for increasingly larger forces.
One might also theorise that, with the exception of sonatas for piano for which, as William Kindermann has remarked, he need make no apology even in the earliest published set, Beethoven was only prepared to publish works which directly competed with the established masters when he felt ready: hence, perhaps, the fact that the first piano concertos, string quartets and symphonies (where the shadows of Mozart and Haydn loomed largest) came after the earliest sonatas and trios.
By the time Beethoven reached Op.21 - the first symphony - his future course, at least in terms of musical forms, was fixed: a preponderance of piano sonatas and variations, sonatas for piano and another instrument, piano trios, string quartets, piano concertos and that symphony. He would stick with - or return sporadically (as with the cello sonatas) to - these forms for the rest of his life.
The one major exception, however, is the string trio; although he composed some five works for the combination of violin, cello and piano, all were written before 1798 - the year of Beethoven's first string quartets.
For some writers, the three trios of opus nine are comparable in almost every way with the six quartets of opus eighteen - every way except their frequency of performance.
Of course, the relative scarcity of full-time string trios as opposed to quartets must partially account for this; I suspect, however, that there is still something clearly transitional about even the opus nine trios, particularly the Cinderella of the group, the second, which closed the first half of Monday evening's exceptional faculty recital at the Conservatory.
The Beethoven gave Victorians their first chance of hearing the Conservatory's new Head of Strings, Michael van der Sloot, in action. Although Victoria is scarcely short of fine violists, van der Sloot is a worthy addition to their ranks.
Müge Büyükçelen, Laura Backstrom and van der Sloot gave the first movement all the weight it could bear (and no more) with good balance between the instruments. In the slow movement there was some wonderful pianissimo playing; the third movement, interestingly, is the only minuet in opus nine - numbers one and three both have scherzos - although the music itself is hardly danceable.
The finale was driven, but not too hard; its rather abrupt ending, like that of the opening movement, is perhaps another sign that this is not quite yet the mature Beethoven, who could end his fifth symphony with fifty-three repetitions of a C major chord.
While I cannot believe that Op.9, No.2 will ever find itself a repertory staple, this was as persuasive an account as I can imagine.
The origins of Brahms's Piano Trio in C minor, Op.60 go back almost two decades before its publication in the mid 1870s. His friend and mentor, Robert Schumann, was beginning his final descent into insanity, leaving Clara alone to care for their seven children.
Brahms, torn between friendship and his love for Clara, nonetheless felt constrained to rush to Düsseldorf to be by her side; when Schumann died, in July 1856, Brahms left.
His state of inner turmoil may be adjudged by an extract from a letter written to Clara during this period: "Would to God that I were allowed this day...to repeat to you with my own lips that I am dying for love of you".
Brahms, of course, did not die of a broken heart nor, unlike the hero of Goethe's The Sorrows of Werther, did he kill himself for love of his friend's wife. This did not, however, prevent the trio from acquiring the sobriquet (still occasionally encountered today) "Werther".
The trio which Brahms composed between 1854 and 1856 (while still in his early twenties) is a substantially different work from the one he completed near Heidelberg in the summer of 1875: the latter having a revised first movement and completely new second and final movements.
The tragic slow, third movement, however he left intact.
In Monday's performance, the slow movement was, as it should be, the emotional heart of the work.
Cellist Paula Kiffner joined Büyükçelen, van der Sloot and pianist Robert Holliston, for a deeply moving and involving performance of the trio to close the evening.
From its sombre opening to the smiling-through-the-tears finale this was a thoroughly cohesive performance, full of exquisite detail.
If I were forced to single out just one moment for attention, it would have to be the cello melody which opens the andante. For Brahms's biographer Richard Specht, this melody is the composer's acknowledgement of his doomed relationship with Clara, a poignant, reluctant farewell. Kiffner played this nobly and eloquently.
This was a model of how to play mature Brahms, with passion but without melodrama (and a welcome contrast to the last concert I reviewed).
Haydn's Piano Trio in A, Hob XV:18 (renumbered 32 in H.c Robbins-Landon's edition) was composed in 1793 or 4 but, unlike the Beethoven of just a few years later, it is the work of a composer fully in command of his talents and skills.
Büyükçelen, Backstrom and Holliston opened Monday's concert with a perfectly-poised reading of this delightful work. Although it took a couple of minutes to adjust to the resonant acoustic (it has been some time since I attended a chamber concert in the Alix Goolden; for a moment I thought something had gone wrong with my ears), the performance itself was pure enjoyment from first note to last.
Regular readers will be aware that I feel very strongly about Haydn's chamber music and shy, like a startled horse, away from performances (alas, not uncommon) which try to put too much expressive weight onto the music.
This performance contained nothing at all at which to cavil; if I had to express one very small caveat it would be that Backstrom's cello was perhaps a touch too self-effacing in the opening movement.
But I can best sum up the performance by saying that as it closed I was inspired to wonder whether the expression on my face was a smile or simply a silly grin.
This was an excellent evening's musicmaking and, if ever you wanted to refute the old canard that "those who cannot do, teach" the musicians of the Victoria Conservatory provide evidence aplenty.
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