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Alix Goolden Performance Hall
January 12, 2013
The etymology of the word "concerto" is still the subject of debate: does it stem from the Latin consertare (to work together, "in consort") or concertare (to struggle or compete with)?
The irony is that, in the three centuries or so since the first concertos were composed, both meanings have, at various times, been appropriate, with, by the late nineteenth century, the competitive aspect dominating, resulting in a backlash in the 1920s and the revival of classical and baroque terms (to cite just one example, Ernest Bloch wrote several works which he titled "Concerto Grosso").
Certainly the prospect of an entire evening of late Romantic concertos is not one which any rational person would contemplate with equanimity.
An evening of early eighteenth century concertos, on the other hand, makes for a delightful diversion - as Saturday's EMSI concert amply proved.
Under the direction of Kati Debretzeni, the Victoria Baroque Players demonstrated, in the most enjoyable way imaginable, just what a class ensemble they have become in less than two years.
The dictionary definitions tend to say that a concerto is "usually in three movements"; not Christoph Graupner's Overture for two horns, flute and strings, which is in eight - although perhaps "sections" might be a better word.
Most of the music tripped along charmingly, with the two horns providing the hunting flavour. The most remarkable section was the sixth ("Uccellino chiuso", or "enclosed [presumably caged] bird") in which the accompaniment was pizzicato strings and the solo instrument Soile Stratkauskas's flute, chirping away from the gallery. A surprisingly modern sound.
Georg Phillip Telemann was considered the great composer of his age and was represented by three works during the course of the evening.
The first of these - for violin, flute and strings, was in Telemann's preferred four-movement format. A charming work, the interplay between soloists and also between them and the ensemble, was a constant delight and, in the presto, Debretzeni had the first real opportunity to display her sizzling technique.
But of course, if you really want dazzling violin virtuosity in 18th century music, it is to Antonio Vivaldi's music that you must turn.
His concerto RV 208, known as "Il Grosso Mogul", may have been written for his own use; if not, it was certainly written for one of the great virtuosos of his day. In a highly dynamic, viscerally exciting performance Debretzeni took the music by the scruff of the neck and never let go.
And even when Vivaldi almost seems to be "composing by numbers" - as in the cadenzas, when you can almost hear his thought processes: "OK, now we'll move this arpeggiated pattern down the fingerboard, now rearrange the notes slightly and work back up, now..." - even then, when played with the degree of panâche and élan which Debretzeni brought to the party, all the listener can do is sit back and be swept away by the music.
Despite Telemann's reputation - he is credited in the Guinness Book of Records as history's most prolific composer - I must admit that I have never been especially taken with anything I've heard.
Until, that is, the second half of Saturday's programme opened with his concerto for four violins without basso continuo (i.e. without accompaniment of any sort), TWV 40:201.
I cannot, offhand, think of a single other work for four identical instruments and nothing else (although Telemann apparently wrote another three of these concertos). The task of maintaining the musical interest must be a formidable one.
Yet it was a task which Telemann performed with apparent ease, with each of the four instruments sharing the tasks of melody and accompaniment, these passing between them almost seamlessly.
It is most unusual and highly attractive music and the four violinists played it with surpassing beauty. I was entranced.
John David Heinichen (I am manfully resisting jokes about beer) followed with a concerto for two horns. Lively and jolly, if not exactly great music, the two natural horns (a fiendishly difficult instrument to play) added excitement and texture to the music, if not much in the way of melody.
Vivaldi wrote more concertos for the bassoon than for any other instrument, except the violin. His concerto for flute, violin and bassoon, RV 100, was typical of its composer and the bubbling sound of bassoonist Katrina Russell was delicious.
The programme ended with more Telemann - except this time it was Telemann (arr. Pisendel): Johann Georg Pisendel, who was born a little later than the others, in 1687, was concertmaster in Dresden and another virtuoso fiddler.
The concerto for horn, concertato violin, strings, bassoon and continuo was originally in four movement, but Pisendel, evidently a sucker for dictionary definitions, cut it down to three and also changed the original trumpet part to one for horn.
Whether Telemann would have approved - especially of the presumed embellishments of the violin part - is unknown. Victorians most certainly did, though, and this jovial end to a most enlivening evening brought many in the room to their feet.
Given the span of the birthdates of the composers involved, one might have expressed surprise that there was no music by either Bach or Handel on the programme; both were born in 1685 (as was Domenico Scarlatti, but he seems to have written no concertante music).
As the VBP's main season is heavily focused on Bach, his omission is entirely understandable. The omission of Handel was repaired - and how! - by the encore. All twelve players took to the stage for a spirited performance of the alla Hornpipe from the Water Music, probably, after the Hallelujah Chorus, Handel's most immediately recognisable music.
Having not heard the Victoria Baroque Players before - James has kept them to himself until now - I was delighted (although not surprised) by their playing. Kati Debretzeni is not just a virtuoso on her chosen instrument, her playing is imbued with an irresistible sense of fun and enjoyment.
A wonderful evening's music-making.
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