Jean Sibelius (1885-1957)
Violin Concerto in D minor, Op. 47 (1903-04, rev. 1905)
Rest of programme listed after the review
James Ehnes (violin)
Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra/Edward Gardner
rec. 2023, Grieghallen, Bergen, Norway
Chandos SACD CHSA5267 [79]
A couple of days before this disc dropped into my letter box, I picked up a second-hand copy of Pekka Kuusisto’s performance of Sibelius’s sublime concerto. And why not? It’s impossible to have too many performances of Sibelius’s Violin Concerto available on the shelves. Kuusisto, recorded in January 1996 on the Ondine label, with the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra under Leif Segerstam, gives a highly-charged and romantic performance. The solo playing is muscular, and from the very outset, not quite ‘sweet and expressive’ as the score demands. The orchestra pulls no punches either and there are certainly passages where I would have liked a little more notice given to piano and pianissimo markings. I have rarely heard so much orchestral detail, though, and Segerstam is totally at one with his soloist. The first movement cadenza is not only brilliantly played, but perfectly timed, like a drama, and the closing passages of the first movement and of the whole work are impetuous and extremely exciting. The slow movement is beautifully done, its wonderful climax as passionate and involving as you are likely to hear. This is a marvellous performance and – for me! – am excellent bargain.
The long melody with which the solo violin launches the concerto carries a rather contradictory marking in the score, mezzo-forte, first of all, but also, as previously noted, dolce ed espressivo. Unlike Kuusisto, James Ehnes observes both these instructions. The first 30 bars of the solo part, around a minute of music, carry no fewer than 14 expression markings, alongside copious instructions as to bowing, articulation and attack. Remarkably, Ehnes respects them all. Throughout this first movement he does not want for drama, but overall the reading is more mellow, richer in sound than that of Kuusisto, with many highly individual and imaginative touches, some provoked by markings in the score, others apparently spontaneous. The cadenza is strikingly different from Kuusisto’s, just as brilliant but more beautiful in tone. And it goes without saying that where the music demands virtuosity, Ehnes provides it in spades. Not only is the cadenza strangely placed, so near the beginning of the work, but the structure of the whole movement brings many surprises. It is difficult to hold together, but in this Ehnes, Gardner and the fine Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra succeed in masterly fashion. The slow movement is beautifully done, and benefits even more from Ehnes’s rich, singing tone. The central orchestral passage is urgent and dramatic – more so than Segerstam makes it – and the soloist’s series of rising octaves just before the stunning main climax are sinuous and deeply involving. Ehnes injects more meaning into this device than many another violinist. My immediate reaction to the finale was that it was very fast. Ehnes throws off the technical challenges with ease, but the rhythmic accompaniment in the orchestra seems to lose some definition compared, again, to the Kuusisto performance. I immediately listened to one of my favourite performances, that by Cho-Liang Lin with Esa-Pekka Salonen (1987, CBS Masterworks), which rather confirmed this, my only, and very slight, criticism.
There are many, many fine performances of this wonderful concerto available. Alongside Lin, I would place Lisa Batiashvili (Sony), Vilde Frang (EMI Classics) and, even more recently, Johan Dalene (BIS). Most listeners would find any of these readings deeply satisfying and there are, of course, many classic performances from virtuosi of earlier generations too. This new performance from James Ehnes is up there with the very finest, and wins over many by the imaginative coupling.
It would be easy to underestimate the archival value of having all of Sibelius’s music for violin and orchestra on a single disc, and even easier to miss out on the sheer pleasure the collection provides. The six Humoresques, though published separately as Op 87 and Op 89, were all composed during 1917 and 1918, and each has its own attractiveness and charm. The first of the Op 87 pair is skittish and playful, whereas the second, according to the Daniel Grimley’s booklet note, evokes ‘the seemingly inexhaustible energy of the Concerto’s finale’. Each of these two short pieces is blessed with a deliciously throwaway ending. The Op 89 set begins with a bit of mock baroque, then passes through calmer, more intimate territory. One of those tunes that tends to lodge itself in the mind is the main theme of the third piece, first presented over a gently chugging accompaniment. Here and elsewhere there is some highly attractive use of harmonics, as well as humour, a relatively rare commodity, let it be said, in Sibelius’s orchestral music. The final piece is equivocal, despite its reassuring major-key close, and each of the six pieces is as different from the others as you could imagine. These two sets represent a compendium of extended and idiomatic writing for the violin, with the orchestra in very much a supporting role.
Sibelius’s Op 77 is sometimes referred to as ‘Two Earnest Pieces’. They share a spiritual rather than religious atmosphere. The second piece is less tranquil, more searching than the first – its Latin subtitle translates as ‘From the bottom of my heart’. But both are ardent and deeply felt, the important part for the harp in the first piece a particularly attractive feature. The composer is immediately recognisable in the two Serenades. The second is made up of two elements, a cold beauty that can evoke the ‘pure spring water’ of the Sixth Symphony, and an equally cold, rapid, dance. The three-part first piece has a disquieting middle section bookended by music that could be described as pastoral, but is hardly more reassuring.
The programme closes with the Suite, Op 117 for violin and strings, each of whose movements carries an English subtitle. There is nothing melancholy about the tuneful promenade that is the first piece, ‘Country Scenery’, whereas just a touch, albeit wistful, intrudes into ‘Serenade. Evening in Spring.’ Most remarkable is the final piece, ‘In the Summer’. Over a pizzicato accompaniment the soloist skitters in constant, breathless semiquavers, sometimes twittering, too, like a bird, leading, after less than two minutes, to a breathless finish. This short work is perhaps an inconsequential addition to the composer’s catalogue, yet like the rest of his music for solo violin and ensemble, it will delight its listeners. It asks no questions of us, except perhaps one: what was it, after completing this music, that led the composer into the three decades of near-silence that comprised the remainder of his life?
A magnificent performance of the concerto is coupled with a programme that is sheer delight. The disc is recorded and presented to the exalted standard we expect from Chandos.
William Hedley
Previous review: Ralph Moore (November 2024)
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Rest of programme:
Two Humoresques, Op 87 (1917)
Four Humoresques, Op 89 (1918)
Two Pieces, Op 77 (1915)
Two Serenades, Op 69 (1913)
Suite, Op 117, JS185 (1929)
