Ernő (Ernst von) Dohnányi: Piano
Concertos Nos. 1 and 2. Sofja Gülbadamova, piano; Deutsche Staatsphilharmonie
Rheinland-Pfalz conducted by Ariane Matiakh. Capriccio. $16.99.
The composers who carried the banner of Romanticism – not
neo-Romanticism but the full-fledged, 19th-century variety – into
the 20th century did so unashamedly while at the same time giving
their expressive, tonal works a personal stamp. Rued Langgaard did this
decidedly in his 16 symphonies, for example; Sergei Rachmaninoff did so both in
symphonies and piano concertos; and Ernő Dohnányi (1877-1960) also carried the
Romantic torch forward in his two symphonies and two piano concertos. However,
these large-scale Dohnányi works are not particularly well-known – perhaps
ironically, his one truly popular piano-and orchestra composition is Variations on a Nursery Tune (1914), in
which he follows Mozart by ringing a set of changes on Ah, vous dirai-je,
Maman (in English, “Twinkle,
Twinkle, Little Star”).
The two Dohnányi concertos, the first from 1897-98 and the second written half
a century later, in 1947, are every bit as lush and a great deal more
portentous, even pretentious, than the clever and wry nursery-tune variations. Dohnányi
was a formidable pianist, and he wrote both the concertos for himself to
perform – yes, even though he was 70 years old when he created the second. In
this way as well as in his musical sensibilities, Dohnányi resembled the
virtuoso-cum-composer Rachmaninoff. And this means it seems to be something of
a mystery that Rachmaninoff’s four concertos (especially the second and third)
have become enduringly popular, while neither of Dohnányi’s is heard very often
(although No. 1 is slightly more frequently played than No. 2). There are,
however, some reasons for the comparative neglect, which come clear when they
are performed with the skill and commitment they deserve.
Certainly the excellent new Capriccio recording featuring Sofja Gülbadamova and the Deutsche Staatsphilharmonie
Rheinland-Pfalz conducted by Ariane Matiakh makes a very strong case for these
pieces. The first concerto, in E minor, is huge even by Romantic standards – it
runs as long as those by Brahms, about 48 minutes in this recording. It is in
three movements, the first and third being very long indeed while the second, a
pleasant 10-minute Andante, stands as
something of an intermezzo between the pillars of the almost-equal-length opening
and closing. Dohnányi did not have the skill of Brahms or Rachmaninoff in creating
memorable themes, and his ultra-serious mien in this concerto makes it
something of a morass in a way that the later, lighter, less self-conscious Variations on a Nursery Tune are not. It
may simply be that the rather over-earnest nature of the first concerto has
prevented it from gaining wide audience acceptance – while its numerous, very
manifest difficulties have not made it a favorite of pianists. Gülbadamova gives no hint of those complexities and
demands in her performance, which surmounts all the technical obstacles without
apparent strain while pulling the rather sprawling work – especially its nearly
20-minute first movement – into coherent and cohesive shape. Matiakh has also taken
the measure of the music quite effectively: orchestra and soloist perform as
equals most of the time here, and the usual excellent sound and ensemble of the
Deutsche Staatsphilharmonie Rheinland-Pfalz are as warm and sumptuous as anyone
could wish. The concerto is certainly effective as a display piece (and a
considerable workout) for the soloist, even though its insistent nature and somewhat
bloated form make it, for the audience, a work that is impressive rather than
emotionally engaging or gripping.
The second concerto, in B minor, although scarcely streamlined, is a
more-compressed work and in many ways a more interesting one. It is not really
tightly knit, but here Dohnányi controls the sprawl better than in his earlier
concerto. The capital-R Romanticism is more surprising in light of the date of
this concerto, written four years after Rachmaninoff’s death, than at the time
of the first concerto, begun the year Brahms died. Dohnányi never updates his
harmonic palette or takes particular cognizance of the many changes in music in
the first half of the 20th century: he is unabashedly faithful to
the Romantic spirit and the virtuoso piano techniques associated with it. Again
in this concerto, he fails to create any particularly memorable themes, but he
works with his material here with more-pointed skill than in the earlier
concerto, and the piece feels better proportioned. And the slow movement,
marked Adagio – Poco rubato, does not
come across as a byway or afterthought, but as a warm and rather thoughtful
contemplation between the outer movements. Concerto No. 2 may be just too backward-looking to attract the
attention of contemporary pianists; but here again, Gülbadamova and Matiakh show clear understanding of the
work’s provenance and structure, and work together to produce a finely
balanced, very well-played performance that shows the concerto in the best
possible light. Neither concerto is anywhere near as much fun as the Variations on a Nursery Tune, which pays
tribute to some composers of the early 20th century and gently
satirizes others: the two concertos are serious, intense works that are “big”
in every sense. That makes them challenging to play and, in truth, to hear:
they are well-made and worthwhile for occasional listening, but there is little
in them distinctive enough to make them stand out from other late-Romantic (or
post-late-Romantic) assertions for piano and orchestra.
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