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Phillip T Young Recital Hall
August 3, 2017
"I compose only for my own pleasure."
"I have composed too much."
"You do write a bit hastily."
All three of the above quotes refer to the same musician, the man whom Hans von Bulow called "next to Brahms the most God-gifted composer of the present day" — Antonín Dvořák. (The first is from a letter to his publisher, Simrock; the second from a letter to Sibelius; the last from a letter to Dvořák from Brahms.)
While it would be pointless to challenge Dvořák's first remark; and while there are doubtless works which do tend to support Brahms' fairly mild accusation, it would surely take take a more foolish person than I like to think myself to concur with Dvořák's own conclusions about his prolificity. I have yet to encounter anything by him that I could bring myself to actively dislike; and, although the result of his "hastiness" did tend to produce the occasionallly ramshackle structures that can inhabit even some of his most popular music, what, above all, makes one invariably welcome his presence on any concert programme is his extraordinary melodic facility. To quote Brahms once again: "I should be glad if something occurred to me as a main idea that occurs to Dvořák only by the way".
The Piano Quartet No.2, Op.87, with which William Preucil, Yariv Aloni, Cameron Crozman and Arthur Rowe closed Thursday's concert, is less often heard than some of his other chamber music (the Piano Quintet, "Dumky" Trio and "American" Quartet immediately spring to mind) and I suspect there are two reasons: firstly, piano quartets by their very nature are harder to programme — if you have a pianist and a string quartet on hand, a piano quartet means leaving the second violinist on the shelf, whereas the number of full-time string trios is comparatively small.
But I suspect that the main reason is probably the fact that the themes in the quartet, while certainly echt-Dvořák and highly attractive per se, just don't quite have the memorability of the themes in those more popular chamber works.
Which is a very minor criticism indeed and its only significance was that I, for one, was not whistling the melodies as I walked back to my car afterwards. The performance itself was everything one could have wished for.
Perhaps there were spots in the opening movement where the strings' fortissimo struggled to be heard over the piano, but (as with Tuesday's Brahms trio) I am inclined to lay the blame at the foot of the composer: there were no such problems in the finale. For the most part, however, balances were very fine and ensemble irreproachable. The contrast in the first movement between the con fuoco passages and the more lyrical ones (particularly the gorgeous second subject), in particular, was very nicely drawn.
The slow movement begins with another lovely melody, this time on the cello, and Crozman played it to the hilt (or, as his contemporaries might put it, "played the **** out of it") on the "Bonjour" Stradivarius. In fact, as many as five separate melodies have been identified in this movement, which gripped from its lyrical opening to its hushed close.
The scherzo (in many ways more an intermezzo a la Brahms) has a lilting feel which dominates — every time the music seems about to take a more dramatic turn, it begins lilting again. The trio is announced by an arresting tremolando from the viola and its dotted theme put me (rather incongruously) in mind of the finale of Schubert's "Death and the Maiden" quartet.
It is in the finale that Dvořák really gives the viola a chance to shine, with its initial statement of the main theme and its leading (two or three times) of the music into a typically-Dvořákian nostalgia. The overall feeling of the movement, though, was outgoing and determined.
I doubt if the quartet will ever supplant the piano quintet in my own affections, but if ever a performance was likely to achieve that, this was certainly that performance.
At the first performance of his Sonata for Piano and Violin in B flat, K.454, in Vienna on 29 April 1784, only the violinist, Regina Strinasacchi, had actual music in front of her. Mozart, at the keyboard, had only a blank sheet of music paper, as he had not had time to write down the piano part. (According to Constanza Mozart, the Emperor, who was in attendance, spotted this via his opera glasses and sent for the composer after the performance for an explanation.)
The following year, after hearing Strinasacchi play in Salzburg, Leopold Mozart wrote to his daughter "in general, I think that a woman who has talent plays with more expression than a man".
Without wishing to become embroiled in that particular argument, there was certainly no lack of expression from Alexandra Preucil (nor Arthur Rowe, for that matter) in the sonata, which opened Tuesday's concert.
The poised slow introduction allowed Preucil's rich, sweet tone full range, before the joyful allegro took over, complete with exposition repeat (once again, when the music is played this well, a repeat is an added bonus, rather than a chore).
The central slow movement (Mozart originally marked it adagio before erasing that and substituting andante), as Marius Flothuis has observed, gives the violinist "ample chance to combine purity of intonation with depth of expression" to which I can only add that this more than adequately described both Preucil's and Rowe's playing of this lovely, consolatory cantabile music.
The cheery rondo which closes the sonata, had a fresh, vernal feel which conveyed Mozart's playfulness perfectly.
At the back of my mind I had the feeling that I had encountered at least some of Rheinhold Glière's Eight Duos for Violin and Cello, written in 1909, before.
Checking back in the archives, I discover that it was at another VSMF concert, almost exactly five years ago.
On that occasion, the violinist was William Preucil; on this occasion it was Alexandra Preucil. Clearly an appreciation of this all-too-seldom-heard music runs in the family
Last time we just had four of the eight pieces, this time we heard five (if the entire set is a mile, then this performance travelled roughly a kilometre).
Preucil and Crozman confirmed my opinion that this is tremendously enjoyable, well-crafted music — in the right hands, of course.
Whether it was the Slavic melancholy of the prelude, the baroque-inspired Gavotte, the exquisitely tender Cradle Song, the delectable Canzonetta or the confidently striding final Scherzo (with its wistful trio), the music fascinated and the performance dazzled.
Perhaps one year we might get all eight duos? (Or even the ten duos for two cellos?)
Another wonderfully enjoyable and rewarding evening from the Victoria Summer Music Festival
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