by Bill Heck
Brahms: Double Concerto, Op 192;
Viotti: Violin Concerto No. 22; Dvorak: Silent Woods, Op.68/5. Christian
Tetzlaff (violin), Tanja Tetzlaff (cello), Paavo Järvi/Symphonie-Orchester
Berlin. Ondine ODE 1423-2
In case the title of this album doesn’t make it clear, the heartfelt booklet
notes, taken from conversations with Christian and Tonja Tetzlaff, explain
that this recording is a memorial tribute to the late Lars Vogt, the pianist
with whom both Tetzlaffs and Järvi recorded frequently and who passed away in
September 2022, just before his 52
nd birthday.
Brahms’s Double Concerto was chosen for this album in
part for the obvious reason that it was written for violin, cello, and
orchestra, thus involving all of these musicians. But the remaining reasons are
related to the album’s reason for being: all of these musicians had recorded
pieces by Brahms with Vogt and, as the notes explain, the work “…deals with
friendship…as well as drama and life’s storms…music…that tells of dark things
but always endeavors to offer consolation.”
The Tetzlaffs also tell us that Brahms had had a falling out
with his violinist friend Joachim and this concerto was “…an olive branch….”
This is not to imply (so far as I can tell) that Vogt had fallen out with any
of our current players, only that it was an expression of deep friendship on
Brahms’s part that was reflected in their friendship with Vogt.
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Lars Vogt
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By the way, for those readers who are not musicians, the
bonds formed by making music with others can be amazingly deep. I’ve
experienced this in a small way and have seen incredibly deep friendships
formed and expressed, even (sadly) in situations very much like the one that we
find here: fellow musicians in deep mourning over the early loss of a
colleague.
As the Double Concerto is a well-known concert staple and
has been recorded innumerable times, my remarks about this performance will be
brief. With so many fine recordings available, it would be impossible to name
the “best”, but I do hear this one as quite fine. Perhaps it’s just a matter of
knowing the background, but the playing here seems particularly committed, even
passionate, especially on the parts of the soloists. The orchestral
contribution is well-played and superbly measured to compliment the solo
instruments, keeping things grounded, as it were, without sounding detached. Even
the third movement, played here in a particularly dance-like manner, seems to remember
the joy of friendship, and the good times before the loss, certainly a fine way
to memorialize a cherished friend.
The Viotti work is far less well-known than just about
anything by Brahms. Giovanni Battista Viotti was born in in Italy in 1755; he
grew to be a highly influential and well respected virtuoso violinist and an
important composer, not to mention the owner of what became known as the Viotti
Stradivarius. His life became, shall we say, colorful and intriguing when he moved to England, only to become entangled in European politics late in the
18th century. More to the current point, he wrote some 29 violin concertos, the
most famous and popular of which, number 22, is the work heard here. He is said
to have influenced Beethoven; Brahms wrote of number 22 in a letter to Clara Schumann
that “the A minor Concerto by Viotti is my very special raptures… The very best
things, that is, Mozart concertos, and the above one by Viotti.” These days, Viotti still is highly regardeded in Italy, where the Viotti International Music
Competition has been held every year since 1950. (Ironically, the Competition is
for pianists and vocalists in alternate years - but never for violinists.)
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Giovanni Battista Viotti
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Although this work, and indeed all Viotti’s violin concertos,
have been recorded a few times, mostly by rather obscure violinists, modern
audiences are not quite as impressed with his work as was Brahms. Nevertheless,
the Concerto is a pleasant, good-natured work, certainly worth hearing in this
very well done performance. The first movement kicks off in A minor (the same
key as the Brahms piece), shortly popping into a major, then, as if remembering
that it’s supposed to be serious, reverting to the minor. That darker mood just
can’t be sustained, though, and the development spends most of its time in
tuneful major key exuberance, returning to the minor for an energetic cadenza
to conclude the movement. While that first movement was typically classical in form,
the second, the
Adagio, hints at the romantic era to come with a few
harmonies that sound downright Brahmsian. Once again, the soloist takes us to
the end of the movement: clearly this is a violinist's violin concerto. The third and final movement, marked
Agitato Assai,
once again starts a bit darkly in the minor, but just can’t resist the
temptation to romp out into the sunshine for a happy conclusion.
Throughout all this, Christian Tetzlaff plays with energy
and focus, while Järvi and his Berliners provide excellent support in what is,
after all, a piece dominated by the soloist. Given the small number of available options,
this recording is an obvious choice for anyone interested in hearing the work
of a lesser but still engaging late classical composer.
Finally, Dvorak’s Silent Woods, the fifth movement of From
the Bohemian Forest, is a lovely, elegiac choice that receives an appropriately
lovely performance here. If there ever was a piece of music in which one can
hear a goodbye bidden to a treasured friend, this is it.
Ondine’s recorded sound is excellent, providing clarity that makes it easy to follow the soloists and the orchestral parts, with the music emerging from a dead quiet
background. I could quibble about a bit less depth than the best, but that would be a quibble indeed.
Judged solely on the quality of the music and the
performances, without reference to its genesis, this is a fine release. The
fact that it is a memorial to an excellent musician who will be missed is just
icing on the cake.
