LF 26: Brahms Violin Sonatas I and II
Donal Hurley
LF26: Brahms Violin Sonatas I & II
Holy Trinity Church, Haddington 15/9/26 and 16/9/26
Chloë Hanslip (violin), Danny Driver (piano)
Over two Coffee Concerts at this year’s Lammermuir Festival, violinist Chloë Hanslip and pianist Danny Driver performed all 3 of Brahms’ violin sonatas, as well as his ‘Scherzo in C minor’ from the ‘F-A-E Sonata’ Included too were (both first hearings for me) Max Reger’s ‘Suite in the Old Style’ Op 93 and Nikolai Medtner’s Sonata No. 1 in B minor Op 21. Both programmes were introduced after their first item by Danny Driver.
The first programme kicked off with the Reger, its 3 movements as clear a homage to Bach as might be imagined. The bright and breezy Präludium was Bachian in its rhythms and sequences, but echts Reger in its harmonic language. It was in the Largo that I first noticed something that was to be a constant feature of the two recitals. In Chloë’s hands, her Amati instrument was delivering, not merely a rich warm tone with timbral range, but also an impressive dynamic range, with power in reserve that held its own against the glorious Bösendorfer, two superb instruments matched as ideally as the performers. The thought that I was going to hear the Brahms sonatas from such a combination had me in anticipatory goosebumps. There was some quite impassioned music for both players in the Largo, and a chance to hear sweet sul-G and con sord. playing also. The Fuge was brisk and light with clever counterpoint and a smart stretto near the end. A super concert opener.
Brahms’ Sonata No 2 in A major Op 100 is a “sigh of contentment” in 3 movements, sunny and idyllic. The first movement even begins with the violin sighing at the ends of the piano’s phrases. The second subject is more romantic and there was a great outpouring of emotion resulting from the fusion of the themes. Even when maximally expressive, there was an unforced quality in the ebb and flow of the phrasing, which breathed naturally. The ‘amabile’ marking was elegantly honoured. Something of the mood of the Andante of the Third Symphony is found with a ‘tranquillo’ marking in the “slow” movement, the inverted commas because there are two playful scampering scherzando Vivace inclusions which also make a brief reappearance at the end of the movement – it was total delight, with smiles all round. The finale opened with a rather sentimental song of devotion with some lovely sul-G wallowing and, although there were departures, some anxious, some impassioned, the music returned repeatedly to this mood. A final wave of romantic fulfilment concluded. All was engagingly realised.
The Sonata No 3 in D minor Op 108 is a different beast altogether, full of drama and tension in its outer movements. It started anxious and furtive, then an impassioned outburst from the piano unleashed the brooding power, bridging to the second theme, in the major key, repeated by the violin with no less power. These two characters battled it out, only at the end of the movement arriving at a peaceful resolution. Nice bariolage in the middle of the movement. The Adagio, a tender romance, was the violin’s chance to sing, and sing it did. There was some gloriously lyrical double stopping in the more passionate moments. Gentle simplicity closed the movement. The piano led in the brief scherzo, a mischievous quirky scurrying dance, with contrasts of light and shade, and a cheeky end. The stormy finale is another dramatic battle between two characterful themes, the first full of rage and fury, the second noble, dignified and benevolent. Fabulous virtuosity from both players as it unfolded, stormy passion the sure victor. Stunning. Racing pulses were calmed, before anybody got behind the wheel of a vehicle, by a dreamy encore: ‘Après un rêve’ by Fauré.
Medtner’s Sonata No.1 opened the second programme. Dating from the first decade of the 20th century, it is very much a Late Romantic work in 3 movements. The first movement opened with a barcarolle vibe, but was more con moto than any such. The front of the programme had said “B major” and I was quietly marvelling at Chloë Hanslip’s phenomenal intonation in what is a beastly key for violinists, before realising that it had to be a misprint: B minor for sure. The movement did build to a peak of swirling intensity, subsiding to a sweet afterglow. The second movement, a scherzo with an irregular metre, was pretty virtuosic to start with, with a touch of Kreisler-style Viennese whimsy. But a wilder dashing Russian dance took over the central part to ramp up the virtuosity. Back to Vienna for a reprise, but the Russian romp had a wild last word, before a cheeky wink at the end. The finale opened with a stately ceremonial metre, becoming increasingly expressive and unrestrained, with some very lyrical use of double-stopping. I wrote in my notes “not like anybody else” and indeed a very individual voice was manifest. There were quotations from earlier on, including the quirky metre of the second movement. The parade built to a carillon of bells, ornate, joyful and fabulously virtuosic. The music finally subsided to a shimmering morendo. A super piece, and I reckon it received the ultimate outing.
Brahms’ Sonata No 1 in G major Op 78 opened liltingly with a mellow slightly bittersweet melody, reaching with hope for something just out of reach, perhaps unattainable, perhaps lost for ever. Quite Schubertian pathos in a major key. The second theme offered some consolation. Other material suggested the seeds of a numb acceptance. The development was more overtly troubled. There was heartease in the return to the first theme. As evident in the first concert, the tonal and dynamic power in the Amati were available for the places with heightened emotion, not, I have to say, a characteristic I have previously associated with Amati instruments – it’s a beauty. The Adagio opened with a stoic piano, joined by a more anxious violin, settling to what might emerga as a romance. But instead the piano broaches what has been avoided to now, the source of deep sadness, and confronts it. In music, before our eyes and ears, Brahms shows the process of healing from emotional trauma. The serenity that emerges at the end of the movement was movingly realised. The finale rondo, starting in G minor, is not “happy days are here again”. It is about “life goes on” right enough, but on the road to healing, not denial. There was lovely sweet tone in the violin’s unsettled melody nonetheless. The sun did come out for a more realistic recall of the the first movement, reaching but now attaining. The G ninor returns but it has lost its power, The movement ends quietly in a glow of G major contentment. Beautifully played by players who clearly love this music.
The F-A-E Scherzo, Brahms’ contribution to a collaborative composition written for the virtuoso (and Brahms’ friend) Joseph Joachim to perform, is a cracker and the only movement of the sonata that’s still in the repertoire. An insistent obsessive rhythmic figure underlies a striding confident melody, with brooding pensive interludes, probably a pen portrait of Joachim himself. The Trio paints a picture of a noble romantic hero. After a reprise of the stormy scherzo, it is an even nobler version of the Trio that forms the triumphant coda. Always a joy. It received a characterful and very satisfying rendition. A arrangement of a Bach Air (which I think may have had a second life as a popular song) was the pleasing encore.
I’ve never made a secret of my love of Brahms’ chamber music, but if I were not already a convert (from boyhood), Chloë and Danny would have persuaded me. Superb.
Weblinks: https://www.lammermuirfestival.co.uk/event/coffee-concert-brahms-violin-sonatas-i/
https://www.lammermuirfestival.co.uk/event/coffee-concert-brahms-violin-sonatas-ii/