Program)
Deutsche Grammophon recording. Printed in Germany // Max Bruch (1838-1920) // Concerto for Violin and Orchestra No.1 in E minor, op. 26 (1866)
Berlin Philharmonic conducted by Herbert Von Karajan. Soloist: Anne-Sophie Mutter
Vorspiel. Allegro moderato — attacca:
Adagio
Finale. Allegro energico — Presto
I’m starting to see your ass out here everyday now
You’re looking for something don’t you?
Just put your heart-shaped glasses on boy
And something will come looking for you too
‘Let Love Run The Game’, Daniel Norgren
mendelssohn’s concerto premiered twenty-two years prior to bruch’s, but as their pairing on this Deutsche Grammophon recording suggests, their similarities verge on apparent collaboration. mendelssohn’s is more symphonic, it’s expanse broader; whereas bruch’s is more personal, playful even. there is in the latter exactly what two weeks ago i couldn’t find in the whole hour of bruckner’s seventh symphony: the lust to play, vivid colours, some indelible imprint to suggest the work was made by a living, feeling, incongruent and occasionally idiosyncratic being. on the other hand bruch’s first violin concerto almost suffers from too many colours layered over too little time. the high and obstinate latitudes of the solo instrument are indicated right at the start of the first movement, characterized by long incantations that wind up the orchestra’s brassy catapult. the inclination is certainly towards long melodic lines, but not overtly so; few are there light melodies that are developed to significant extent before the orchestra’s bombast interjects, or the soloist cackles with a sudden, fiery realization.
blended seamlessly with the first, the slow movement glides in with a heavy gaiety and a more sombre spotlight cast for the soloist, while pastel tones shade the orchestra’s part. it bear a strong resemblance to saint-saëns’s Havanaise—that was still twenty years down the road—or one of mendelssohn’s Song Without Words, in that it doesn’t get swept up in the sentimentality of its singing. like the first movement, it spreads at just about nine minutes and is highlighted by two main themes at the halfway and bottom-third marks. it’s the third movement, again adjoined without a pause, that for me distinguishes this concerto as more than a homage to mendelssohn: the solo instrument sings in hoarse tones, with mixes of brown yellow and red tones that form an ochereous helix with the orchestra’s part.
it begins with a wavering effect (tremolando) on violas, while the rest of the orchestra builds a rhythm that ramps up to the soloist’s incoming pyrotechnics. when the solo violin does enter, it’s takes up this same material from orchestra, but delivers it as if just dislodged from the instrument’s throat. the orchestra again crouches low as stark figurations are sketched by soloist, which rises to a climax that orchestra takes on to furious heights. this time it’s the violin playing good cop with the second theme, slowing the momentum with less combustible material. a skipping ‘hungarian rhythm’ accompaniment threads the alternation between the first and second themes; much of the soloist’s development in this movement is on that first theme. and with a particularly satisfying symmetry, the movement closes with the same interaction that it opened with: the first theme’s sharp angles are drawn out by soloist, the orchestra reiterates with an upgrade in volume and conviction, the soloists briefly takes on the second movement and the final notes find the soloist and orchestra screaming in unison on the first theme.
(song of the week: ‘Let Love Run The Game’ — Daniel Norgren)
i started this blog because i wanted to, among other things, build a collection of blue timbres, colours in music that similarly intense as they sombre. that it’s lasted this long i think owes to the periodical detours i take from that for the sake of brighter more ocherous moods—that’s the feeling behind this week’s selection: its my birthday so i thought i’d do with a little less blue for the day.
Arrowhead Park, March 2020
jackson c. frank—perhaps the bluest folk singer of them all, who would have been america’s dylan thomas had his lot been more stable—opened his self-titled album with ‘Blues Run The Game’, a song that, if i had to pick, would be the anthem to everything on here. near the it’s end there’s an especially sombre verse that can be cast either in a harsh or sober light, depending on the mood of the listener:
Maybe tomorrow, honey
Someplace down the line
I'll wake up older
So much older, mama
I'll wake up older
And I'll just stop all my tryin'
‘Blues Run The Game’, jackson c. frank
i’ve taken swedish singer-songwriter daniel norgren’s similarly titled song as an alternative response to frank’s crooning ballad: yes, why not let love run the game instead. it’s the seventh song on his 2019 album, whose title jumped up and slapped me in the face at first sight last july: Wooh Dang. it’s like a slogan for an unabashed head-thrown-back kind of living. and his voice i think answers the question: if whiskey could sing.
If you’d ever find yourself astray
Or ever lose the lust to play
I’d say for a while stay off the highway
And hear what the birdies have to say…
‘Let Love Run The Game’, daniel norgren