LF26: Timothy Ridout in Recital
Dunbar Parish Church, 20/9/26
Timothy Ridout (viola), Frank Dupree (piano)
My final report from this year’s Lammermuir Festival covers the afternoon of 20th September in Dunbar Parish Church, where violist Timothy Ridout and pianist Frank Dupree gave a recital of Joachim, Brahms, Enescu and Bloch. Festival Artistic co-Director Hugh Macdonald, in his prefatory remarks, dedicated the concert to the memory of the violist Brian Schiele, late of the Scottish Chamber Orchestra.
Joseph Joachim’s ‘Hebrew Melodies’ Op. 9 date from 1854, when the virtuoso violinist had moved to Hanover, having split from Liszt in Weimar and firmly dissociated himself from the ‘New German School’ and its ideas, and also met the young Brahms and introduced him to the Schumanns. I find the title of the set of 3 pieces puzzling, as I hear little that sounds even vaguely Hebraic or an assertion of Joachim’s Hungarian-Jewish heritage, bar a trace in the middle piece. I would go as far as saying that Max Bruch, who had no Jewish heritage whatsoever, managed to connect more convincingly what that distinctive musical language. That said, the melodies are attractively Schumannesque and early Brahmsian. The first, following a dark piano intro, featured some lovely warm sul tasto sonority and a hymn-like vibe. The second, starting low on the C-string, contrasted sotto voce with expressive lyricism for both viola and piano. Like the first, it was in a minor key and kept to the shadows. The final piece found a major key and was in the manner of a tender Brahmsian romance, framing a stormier and more passionate central section. Three charming pieces received an engaging outing.
Introducing the rest of the concert, Timothy Ridout said that the first half represented the last half of the 19th century, while the second half would move to the first part of the 20th century. Brahms Viola Sonata No. 2 in E flat major Op. 120 No 2 is a bit of a ‘ringer’, as it is none other than the 1894 Second Clarinet Sonata, adapted immediately by Brahms for viola, and premiered privately with Joachim on the viola, Brahms at the piano, and Clara Schumann turning his pages. Oh, to have been a fly on the wall in that room! The programme notes said, “Nothing in Brahms’ writing depends on effects unique to either instrument”. Technically true perhaps, but the clarinet part shows that Brahms, like me, loved the lovely burbling sound of arpeggiation on a clarinet, especially with a skilled player crossing the “break”. I love the viola, but no viola can replicate that sound. Enough said. The sonata for viola is still glorious late Brahms. The first theme was idyllic and gently rhapsodic, with a sense of companionship between the instruments. Delicious sotto voce playing on the bridge to second major theme built to its tender passion very effectively. Another bridge based on relaxation of the first theme was interrupted by a passionate outburst on the piano, leading to the development, stormy passion alternating with more tender moments. The recapitulation found new corners to explore with the same material. The tranquil idyllic coda basked in the afterglow. Gorgeous. The Allegro appassionato is a rather Gothic E-flat minor waltz which mostly sweeps along but slows mysteriously and halts before the slower B-major Trio, noble and stately, too slow to be a waltz, maybe a sarabande. The waltz comes storming back but ends calmly. Very characterfully interpreted and played, I must admit that it sounded just as good on the viola. Something of the mood, metre and character of the Trio opens the finale, back to E flat major and as the theme for a set of variations. The first variation was rather ethereal and spectral, the piano hinting at the fragmented theme with comments from the viola. The second variation was more whimsical, the two waltzing with rather affectedly gracious gestures. Still gracious, but with the gestures more ornate and competitive, the third variation was faster still. Slower and back to spectral half-light, the fourth variation had a kind of spooky benevolence. The contrast with the stormy impassioned fifth variation’s E-flat minor Allegro was stark indeed, with a jazzy rhythm in the piano at the end. Genial E-flat major was re-established for what was as much a coda as another variation, gleefully jubilant in the dash to the finish line, I’ll not deny preferring the clarinet version, but it was truly excellent, and the earworms that persisted over the next day or so were from the Brahms sonata.
In what I’m fairly certain was a first hearing for me, Enescu’s 1906 ‘Concertstück’ followed the interval. It was composed at the request of Enescu’s composition teacher Fauré, as a competition piece for violists at the Paris Conservatoire. It is a single-movement rhapsody about ten minutes in duration, extremely virtuosic as might be expected, but I detected no hint of the Romanian character that shines in the two later rhapsodies and other works familiar to me. Still, although it certainly puts the performer through their paces, it is no mere showpiece. There was a Viennese feel to the harmony and romantic expressiveness of both the playful (used to display agile fingerwork) and more lyrical (smoochy double-stopping and harmonics, for instance) elements. So, whilst it is never destined to be a favourite, it was well worth the candle, with the added thrill of some very impressive virtuosic playing.
The programme concluded with another first hearing, Bloch’s ‘Suite for viola and piano’. Now, I must admit that when I first saw Joachim’s ‘Hebrew Melodies’ and a piece by Bloch on the programme, I was expecting a feast of Jewish goodies. The Joachim, for all its charm, had already reneged on that promise. When I read in the programme that the Bloch Suite “reveals a different side of his compositional profile”, I was prepared for more disappointment. In the event, I was pleasantly surprised. Granted that the Suite is not the Bloch of ‘Schelomo’ or ‘A Voice in the Wilderness’, much less ‘Baal Shem’, but I was sufficiently reminded of the Violin Concerto to be a very happy bunny. Never mind that the composer’s intention was to evoke exotic travel in Indonesia and the Far East – the Suite is still kosher Bloch. And it won the 1919 Coolidge Prize. The piano part is very orchestral and the writing is quite concertante in style. I read that there are 4 movements and formed a vague mental image of the structure, very quickly realising that it bore little relation to what I was hearing. So I just surrendered to the holistic experience. To me, the viola was Bloch himself and his reactions to the (entirely imagined) experience of travel in exotic lands. Most of the actual oriental noises were supplied by the piano. Both parts were technically demanding and tackled with aplomb. I enjoyed every moment of it and found the performance engaging, involving and very satisfying. A super piece receiving a top-shelf outing.
The encore, as with Chloë Hanslip in the first of her Brahms sonata concerts, was ‘Après un rêve’ by Fauré, ever-charming and always worth an extra hearing.
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