(Program)
Deutsche Grammophon recording. Printed in Germany // Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847) // Concerto for Violin and Orchestra in E minor, op. 64 (1844)
Berlin Philharmonic conducted by Herbert Von Karajan. Soloist: Anne-Sophie Mutter
Violin Concerto
Andante molto appassionato
Andante
Allegro non troppo — Allegro molto vivace
favourite violin concertos? i admit it’s a bit of an obvious list: sibelius’s, khatchaturian’s, tchaikovsky’s—and this one by mendelssohn. the last two are among the best of the 19th century—during which the format reached its highest popularity with pieces written for violin and piano—and much of the structure and intensity of the first two were inspired by the experiments and velocities of the latter concertos.
the first movement of this concerto is about the most compact, single-minded advance on the instrument that i know of; the soloist seemingly plays the part of a glistening mustang, with the orchestra attached as sidecar—intermittently revving the engine with vehement tuttis—but it is nodoubt the soloist in the driver’s seat all the way.
i came upon this piece long before i cared anything for classical music, this movement has been a recurrent member of my shuffle playlist for the better part of seven years (which is still the best recording of i’ve heard), not until have i listened to the concerto in full. for the past seven years i had taken that first movement to be the the closing movement—it’s hard to think of anywhere else to go from there—in terms of cadence, you’d get a more conventional concerto if you switched the first and final movements. it appears mendelssohn was channeling a sentiment that there’s perhaps more wisdom in starting fast and wild with a movement that is the lighter, faster precedent to the corresponding movement of sibelius’s concerto; and then following up with the soft whispers and gentle gestures of the second movement—which begins with a solitary bassoon in his Song Without A Word style—and then coming back to Allegro molto vivace for a closing stretch that khactaturian would take to even higher gears in own contribution to the format nearly a century later. the strength of this concerto lies in its proportions, top-heavy with a play-time of just over thirty minutes, it’s over before you can forget how it started.
top-heavy inasmuch as the opening movement casts a shadow on the rest of concerto, you keep tracing phrases in the second and third movements are might be iterations of the first’s two themes. usually the orchestra is placed in an introductory role, or at least in conjunction with the soloist to open the concerto. but mendelssohn instead gives the lead to the soloist who jumps right into the main theme, while the orchestra provides a soft landing pad. winding passages and intractable figurations end in high octaves before the orchestra takes the wheel to deliver a full-throated cover of that opening theme. this replica is short lived, the soloist interrupts with an extended passage that itself becomes a source of reference later on. but the orchestra maintains its presence with a tutti that devolves into likeminded passages while the soloist maintains pianissimo in low G. just before the first theme runs out of energy, the second enters seamlessly on two pairs of clarinets and flutes. the soloist is fired up by the idea, repeating the second theme with fancy detailing. this trajectory ramps up to a climax and whereupon the soloist screams the main theme again—with the orchestra as an echo chamber—and appending it with some of the material it used to interrupt the orchestra earlier. the momentum is suspended just a little as the movement reaches its development stage. here woodwinds refer back to that catchy opening theme with some accompanying elaborations by the soloist; a deceptively quiet passage explodes into the soloist’s cadenza, which is itself used by the composer to adjoin the development and reprise—a structure mimicked most notably by the first movement of sibelius’s concerto. the cadenza is the main thing, fast and slow, sensitive and flamboyant, a pitstop in slow motion, making up much of what’s left of movement. it is bookended by the reprise, fortissimo chords in orchestra as the pace quickens back up to andante, together and with emphasis from a dramatic timpani, the soloist and orchestra lurch forward into a conclusion. unexpectedly, and without pause, it is a bassoon that enters the fray, transitioning from B to C while the orchestra follows suite with accompanying chords—signalling the beginning of the second movement.
(song of the week: Leiliya — Tartit)
desert blues—a fast growing genre and one i’m increasingly taken by after discovering the band Bombino three years ago. much of what’s popular in the genre is coming out of musicians of the tuareg people of north africa. of those musicians, two styles of music fork along the gender lines: tichoumaren and tende. tichoumaren is the style played by Bombino, Imharhan and Tinariwen—mostly men, mostly fast, with heavy guitar lines that sketch the restlessness of nomadic life (‘tichoumaren’ translates to ‘the unemployed’ but is referred to as ‘guitar music’). tende, though less popular, creates the same sound but the emphasis is instead on a hand-drum (the tende) usually played by women. one of the oldest tende groups is Tartit, formed by four women and five men in a refuge camp almost 26 years ago, has grown and spread out since (some members feature in the aforementioned Imharhan).
‘Leiliya’ is the third song from Amankour (the exile), their latest album from 2019. not sure what ‘leiliya’ means, perhaps an alternative spelling of ‘laliya’—which means a basket hung in the house from the ceiling to keep things away from children.