Juilliard Chamber Music: Dutilleux, Beethoven, Schubert and Mendelssohn

Yesterday was the last day for the this term's series of Sunday afternoon chamber music recitals at Juilliard's Morse Hall.  The 1:00 p.m. performance I attended actually consisted of two recitals combined into one and ran approximately 150 minutes in length.  While the opening piece was a determinedly modern work by the twentieth century composer Henri Dutilleux, a piece described in the composer's New York Times obituary as "enigmatic," the remainder of the program was devoted to nineteenth century classics by Beethoven, Schubert and Mendelssohn.

The performance began with Dutilleux's Les Citations.  The work was written in 1985 while Dutilleux was composer-in-residence at the Aldeburgh Festival and was dedicated to the Festival's host, tenor Peter Pears.  It was to Pears that the citation referred to in the title was given as the first movement quotes an aria from the first act of Peter Grimes.  (Pears was the partner of composer Benjamin Britten.)  The work was then recalled only to be revised by Dutilleux in 1991 and again in 2010.   In its original form, it was a one-movement work for oboe, harpsichord and percussion.  The 1991 revision, that performed at this recital, not only included a new movement but also added a bass to the instrumentation. The performers here were Timothy Daniels, oboe, Sebastian Zinca, bass, Robert Fleitz, harpsichord, and Greg LaRosa, percussion; their coach was Jeffrey Milarsky.

After a brief pause, the recital continued with the remainder of the works performed for authenticity's sake on period instruments, including two antique fortepianos.  An early version of the instrument, much smaller in size than the modern piano, was used for the first several pieces.  It had a much less vibrant sound than the modern piano, almost "tinny" at times, and did not appear very sturdily built.  Looking at it, it was difficult to picture Beethoven performing his thunderous piano works, such as the Hammerklavier, on it without smashing it to bits. The second fortepiano, that used for the last pieces, was much larger and resembled more closely the modern piano in both size and sound.

First came three songs by Beethoven - Adelaide, Op. 46, Die laute Klage, WoO 135, and An die Hoffnung, Op. 32.  The three lieder were sung by tenor Chance Jonas-O-Toole; he was accompanied by pianist Derek Wang.  As the opus numbers would indicate, these were drawn from various periods in Beethoven's career.  He was not known as a composer of lieder and this was a rare opportunity to hear his works for voice.  Although Adelaide is his best known song, it's An die Hoffnung that has the most interesting story.  Beethoven originally composed it in 1805 to words by Christoph August Tiedge. It was only years later, in 1816, that Beethoven discovered that the text he had used was incomplete.  He then composed a completely new setting for the poem that was much longer and struck a completely different tone.  

The next work was again by Beethoven, his Sonata for Fortepiano and Violin in E-flat major, Op. 12, No. 3 (1798). The Op. 12 was Beethoven's first attempt at writing violin sonatas and it's telling that he had them published as sonatas for piano and violin rather than vice versa, thus underscoring which instrument he considered the more important of the two.  He was still in his early period at this point in his career and under the influence of Mozart's writing for the violin.  As one listens, it's clear from the outset that this is not a mature work.  In fact, when first published the Op. 12 was criticized by the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung for "a certain contrariness and artificiality."  The masterful "Kreutzer" Sonata, Op. 47 still lay several years in the future, and in between Beethoven would publish the Opp. 23, 24 and 30.  Still, the present sonata has definite charm and is quite pleasing to hear.  The violinist was Kako Miura and the pianist Christopher Staknys.

After this came Schubert's Introduction and Variations on Trockne Blumen, D. 803 (1824).  Trockne Blumen was the eighteenth song from the cycle Die schöne Müllerin.  In it, the singer rather morbidly wishes that he can take the miller's daughter's flower's to his grave so that they may once again bloom.  It was after having heard a performance of the entire cycle that flutist Ferdinand Pogner commissioned Schubert to write a series of variations upon this particular song.  The resulting piece isn't nearly so mournful as its source would suggest and its conclusion is even rather upbeat.  The work was performed exceptionally well by Melanie Williams playing a Baroque flute; her accompanist was pianist Ke Wang.

After another brief pause, the program continued with one of Schubert's greatest works for piano, the Fantasia in F minor for four hands, D. 940 (1828).  All the composer's works from the last year of his life are to be counted among his finest, but none more so than this achingly beautiful piano piece which was only published posthumously.  That it was dedicated to Karoline Esterházy for whom the composer felt an unrequited passion shows that even at the end of his life Schubert was unable to abandon the ideal of love even though he was fated never to experience its joys.  He returned here to the genre he had more or less created several years before with his "Wanderer" fantasy in which all four movements are played without pause to create a harmonious whole.  But the Fantasia has none of Romantic heroism of the "Wanderer" but is instead a hymn to the power of love.  Only in the concluding measures does Schubert acknowledge the pain of his impending death.  The two excellent pianists were Anastasiya Magamedova and Natalie Vargas-Nedvetsky.

After the Fantasia came three songs by Schubert - Lachen und Wienen, An die Musik, and Rastlose Liebe - sung by mezzo-soprano Maggie Valdman accompanied by pianist Jiawei Lyu.  Of the three, my favorite has always been An die Musik.  With text by Franz von Schober, who later was to write the libretto for Schubert's opera Alfonso und Estrella, this early song from 1817 is a paean to music itself.

The program closed with one of Mendelssohn's best known chamber pieces, the Piano Trio in D minor, Op. 49 (1839).  The work's popularity is no accident.  As I noted in a previous post, a dissertation by Ron Regev suggests that Mendelssohn may have cared more about his audience's reaction to this work than to others. Regev writes:

"On the other hand, the undertone of some of his [Mendelssohn's] letters, as well as the final outcome of his debate with Hiller concerning the Trio suggests that he was not impervious to the lure of public affection."

It was Ferdinand Hiller, of course, who persuaded Mendelssohn to completely rewrite the piano part to bring it more into accord with popular tastes.  He later recalled:

"Certain pianoforte passages in it [the trio], constructed on broken chords, seemed to me - to speak candidly - somewhat old-fashioned.  I had lived may years in Paris, seeing Liszt frequently, and Chopin every day, so that I was thoroughly accustomed to the richness of passages which marked the new pianoforte school.  I made some observations to Mendelssohn on this point, suggesting certain alterations, but at first he would not listen to me."

In his paper, Regev goes on to do an exhaustive analysis of all the changes Mendelssohn made in his revised score.  To whatever extent these changes altered the nature of the work, the final result is certainly much more stirring than can be found in many other of Mendelssohn's pieces.  From the cello's opening notes on, the trio captures the hearts of its audience.  One cannot listen without being moved.  The musicians for this work were Alana Youssefian, violin, Matt Zucker, cello, and Nathaniel LaNasa, fortepiano.  I had just heard Mendelssohn's second trio, the Op. 66, last week at a Wednesdays at One performance by the Altezza Trio and I was struck as I listened to this first trio how completely different the two works are.

In some ways, the use of the fortepiano in the second half of the program was more interesting than the music itself.  It certainly changed the character of the music by altering the dynamics of the relationships among the instruments.  This was especially apparent in a work such as the Beethoven violin sonata where the violin stood out more clearly than in performances I've heard with modern instruments.