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Phillip T Young Recital Hall
August 6, 2011
For those music-lovers who, like me, feel that a mere three violin sonatas by Brahms is insufficient, the one-and-only sonata for violin by Richard Strauss is a worthy addition.
Of course, there are differences: Brahms wrote his sonatas late in his career, Strauss was still in his early twenties, so you will search in vain for any reflection of the - oh dear, here's that word again - "autumnal" Brahms in his sonata. The online thesaurus, by the way, offers no synonyms for "autumnal", although it does rather half-heartedly suggest "oatmeal" - but neither will you find any oatmeal in the Strauss.
The major event which informs the Strauss is his falling in love with soprano Pauline de Ahna, whom he later married; and, indeed, the sonata, despite its obvious debt to Johannes, is clearly the product of a young man in the grips of major emotions.
Which means, of course, that a performance should also be full of youthful passion.
On Saturday night, Benjamin Beilman and Arthur Rowe closed the first half of their recital with a dazzling, full-blooded performance of the Strauss sonata.
Both players displayed huge, rich tones in the volatile opening movement; the second movement improvisation features a soaring melody, done full justice; the finale, after its ominous opening, is so exuberant that, for a time, the two instruments seem to be playing different works and even when it settles down somewhat, is still arguably slightly "over the top" emotionally.
But one can hardly blame the young Strauss and, when played with this level of commitment, understanding and virtuosity, the music can - even if perhaps only temporarily - be every bit as rewarding as that of the older master.
If I have a slight proviso - and this was echoed to me at the interval - it was that on occasion, in louder passages, the violin tone disappeared beneath the piano. I will not make too much of this as it was only on occasion and as I could not tell whose fault it was (and the composer himself was a distinct possibility).
But this slight blemish should not - and did not - detract from a wonderfully engaging performance.
"Prokofiev was someone interesting and dangerous! He was capable of doing you in: brutal, healthy, someone with no principles, who wrote on commission."
Given that Prokofiev wrote several works for Sviatoslav Richter and the two knew each other well, this is not a remark which can be lightly dismissed.
We should not, of course, allow knowledge of a composer's personality to affect our enjoyment of the music (otherwise who would ever listen to Wagner or Gesualdo?) yet I must confess that, with one or two notable exceptions, I have never really understood Prokofiev's music.
Which being so, I can really only report that Prokofiev's Violin Sonata No.2, Op.94a (it was, oddly enough, arranged from the Flute Sonata, at the request of David Oistrakh), with its sudden violent outbursts and episodes of bleak calm, was superbly played by both Beilman and Rowe.
It did, however, little to clear up the enigma of Prokofiev for me.
Niccolo Paganini's influence in the world of music was tremendous: he broke new ground in technique for his instrument and inadvertently inspired the young Liszt, although not everyone is convinced that this was for the good.
Paganini's music, however, has largely sunk with little or no trace, with one, or perhaps one should say twenty-four exceptions: the Caprices, for solo violin.
Having, he told us, played the entire set just a week ago, Beilman was able to relax a little and just offer us his three favourites, numbers two, thirteen and the famous final caprice, which has been used as the basis of variations by composers from Brahms to Rachmaninov.
It was easy to see (but not hear) why these pieces are still considered among the instrument's most treacherous, but Beilman coped with the difficulties with considerable aplomb, leaving one eager to hear more.
The programme proper closed with a virtuoso favourite: the Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso by Saint-Saëns. In the introduction Beilman's beautiful, singing tone was beautifully supported by Rowe's limpid pianism; in the pyrotechnics which constitute the rondo, Rowe was the perfect foil to Beilman's sizzling virtuosity and, on occasion, dramatic rubato.
For some reason - and it is, in several regards unique in the composer's output - Mozart's E minor violin sonata seems to be programmed far more often in Victoria than the others.
Happily, there was no danger of ennui in Saturday's performance, the first work on the programme. In the opening movement, Beilman immediately displayed the wonderfully silky tone he is capable of and the players imbued the music with drama, but not to an inappropriate extent.
The minuet which is the only other movement, must surely be one of the most poignant such ever written; it was very touching, the more so as the trio - delectably done here - moves into the major for a brief consolatory period.
After the standing ovation which greeted the close of the programme, Beilman returned for a brief encore, the slow movement of Prokofiev's Sonata for Solo Violin (or violins in unison) - written in 1947 but not performed until 1959, six years after the composer's death.
The almost untroubled lyricism of this music, played with total commitment, was the perfect end for an evening largely consisting of fireworks.
This was duo playing at its best; Beilman is clearly a major talent.
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