Vivaldi: Complete Cello
Concertos. Francesco Galligioni, cello; L’Arte dell’Arco conducted by
Federico Guglielmo. Brilliant Classics. $19.99 (4 CDs).
Zemlinsky: Complete String
Quartets. Brodsky Quartet (Daniel Rowland and Ian Belton, violins; Paul
Cassidy, viola; Jacqueline Thomas, cello). Chandos. $37.99 (2 CDs).
Lovers of classical music
typically own at least a few “complete series” recordings: the Beethoven and
Brahms symphonies, a set of Mozart piano concertos (not necessarily all of
them), Haydn’s “London” and “Paris” symphonies, and so forth. Increasingly,
though, it has become possible to find exceptionally well-performed sets of
music that listeners are unlikely to have encountered in complete format
before. The results, sometimes, are highly salutary, as they are in the case of
Brilliant Classics’ release of the 27 solo-cello concertos by Vivaldi. These
are exceedingly attractive performances, featuring Francesco Galligioni
performing on a Paulo Antonio Testore instrument from about 1740 and, on one of
the four CDs, a five-string French cello from the 19th century.
Galligioni is a simply splendid interpreter of this music, treating every one
of the three-movement works as an individual, carefully crafted piece rather
than in blasé form as “just another Vivaldi concerto.” The fact is that these
concertos – along with nine others that Vivaldi wrote for cello plus other solo
instruments and, in one case, for two cellos – show the Venetian violinist to
have been highly sensitive to the instrumental capabilities of his time, as the
cello progressed to true solo capability rather than use only as a continuo
contributor. Since the dates of Vivaldi’s solo-cello concertos are not precisely
known, their sequencing for recording purposes needs some other basis, and
Galligioni has found a perfect one: he arranges them according to their musical
requirements. Thus, one CD includes concertos that he says need “lightness
despite their intrinsic complexity” and that therefore come across as “solemn”;
another features works requiring a high string – so Galligioni plays them on a
five-string violoncello piccolo; another includes simpler concertos; and the
fourth disc offers miscellany, including a concerto for which Vivaldi included
a bassoon obbligato and two others for which Galligioni also thought the
bassoon inclusion sensible (Vivaldi wrote more than three dozen concertos for
bassoon and was particularly fond of the instrument). Galligioni plays all the
concertos with real flair and tremendous stylistic understanding. For example,
the works are split between minor keys (14 concertos) and major ones (13), and
Galligioni knows just how deeply to probe the minor-key ones and just how
bright to make the major-key ones sound. The outstanding period-instrument
ensemble L’Arte dell’Arco, conducted by Federico Guglielmo, provides exactly
the right accompaniment for the soloist, functioning at times as a true tutti and at others as, in effect,
chamber-music players in a somewhat-larger-than-usual chamber ensemble. The net
effect of all this expertise and liveliness is exhilarating, and the way in
which this exceptionally well-priced set of concertos showcases a less-known
side of Vivaldi (compared with his violin concertos) makes the collection a
delight from the first notes to the last.
“Delight” would be a stretch
in describing the string quartets of Alexander Zemlinsky (1871-1942), whose
seriousness of purpose and multifaceted intensity pervade all five of the works
offered in a new Chandos recording. Zemlinsky was a very careful craftsman
whose music is not especially approachable; he is nowadays known as much for
being a lover of Alma Schindler before she became Alma Mahler, and for being Arnold
Schoenberg’s brother-in-law, as for his compositions. The Schoenberg connection
is actually a crucial one for these quartets, figuring largely in No. 2 (1913-15)
and to a lesser extent in No. 3 (1924). Before these two quartets, Zemlinsky
composed two others. One, in E minor, dates to about 1893 and is here recorded
for the first time. It is quite an accessible work, especially by the standards
of Zemlinsky’s music, with – in particular – a first movement whose harmonic
ambiguities and metrical irregularities look ahead to the composer’s later
creations. It uses the four instruments well and shows considerable
understanding of their individual capabilities, but it is a somewhat uneven
work, with second and third movements not up to the level of the first and with
an energetic but not especially distinguished finale. The second quartet to be
composed – the one designated No. 1 (1896) – takes Zemlinsky’s approach to
harmony and meter somewhat farther, and is more thoroughly integrated. It is
partly a response to criticism that Zemlinsky received from Brahms: the finale
actually includes’ Brahms’ musical motif F-A-F (for frei aber froh, “free but happy”). The quartet is not, however,
particularly Brahmsian: here Zemlinsky is already starting to solidify a style of
his own. By the time of String Quartet No. 2, however, Zemlinsky was writing
something much more personal. This quartet, whose dissonances and pervasive
sense of despair make it difficult to listen to even today, reflects personal
and professional reverses that Zemlinsky himself had suffered (including the
end of his affair with Schindler) and, to an even greater extent, the affair
that his sister – Schoenberg’s wife – had with the young painter Richard
Gerstl, which led to Gerstl’s suicide and Schoenberg’s consideration of it. Knowing
the tremendous turmoil that underlies this quartet helps a great deal in
understanding its sound, which at times seems to be deliberately unpleasant.
The work is so intensely personal that a really good performance – and the
Brodsky Quartet’s is really good – makes a listener feel as if he or she is
party to some deep and embarrassingly personal secrets, which is pretty much
the case. String Quartet No. 3 can be hard to hear for a different reason: it
is a dry and acerbic commentary on many trends in 20th-century
composition, including Schonberg’s twelve-tone system. It is a lighter work
than No. 2 – parts of No. 3 even sound playful – but one of very serious
purpose, as well as a piece with strong parodistic elements. String Quartet No.
4 (1936), written after Zemlinsky was forced to leave Germany because of the
Nazi takeover and had moved back to his native Vienna, is subtitled “Suite” and
modeled in part on Alban Berg’s Lyric
Suite, written 11 years earlier and dedicated to Zemlinsky. There are
homages to Bach, Beethoven and Wagner here as well as to Berg, although the
quartet’s careful structure and the interplay of highly serious contrapuntal
elements with meditative and expressive ones clearly show Zemlinsky’s own
style. Zemlinsky’s music, unlike Vivaldi’s, does not have wide immediate appeal
to those unfamiliar with it, so this excellent quartet cycle will likely
interest a more-limited audience than the Vivaldi cello concertos. Each of
these collections, though, provides a welcome opportunity to explore a complete
set of works in which a composer demonstrates all his interests and
preoccupations regarding a specific instrument or instrumental group.
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