It would tempting
to think, given the heroic executant
instincts of both composers, that
this brace of sonatas would fall into
the virtuoso school of the first and
second quarters of the nineteenth
century. Friedrich Grützmacher
was one of the reigning cello lions
of the time – indeed he and Moscheles
tried out the sonata together in 1851
– though there were other players
whose presence stimulated composers,
such as Julius Rietz, and the time
was ripe for some fertile and important
works. So, it would be tempting but
ultimately wrong to assume that these
would be note-spinning and vaguely
barnstorming novelties for hungry
virtuosi.
What both sonatas
share, in fact, is a certain lyric
reticence and charm, qualities that
both Bárta and Milne are keen
to stress in these very elegant and
persuasively sympathetic performances.
Moscheles’s second sonata is the bigger
work, one dedicated to Schumann. The
piano writing is strongly characterised
and though there’s a certain amount
of rather predictable passagework
for the cellist in the first movement
the themes are full of a certain piquancy
and harmonic interest – if sometimes
rather four-square in outline. The
scherzo has its puckish moments and
a dance profile whereas the third
movement Ballade (in Bohemian style)
has some charming if slightly generic
Dumka-like moments. To offset this,
varying moods lead to a very inward
restatement of the initial theme –
reflective and delicately done by
both performers – before they dig
in for a vigorous finale.
Hummel’s sonata dates
from 1824 and cries out for grazioso
phrasing. There’s rather more old
world gallantry here, a certain nostalgic
rococo element does creep in, but
themes are well distributed between
the two instruments and there’s a
deal of reserved dignity throughout.
The Romanze is very affectionately
played and Hummel’s seemingly effortless
gift for lyrical phrasing is exploited
to the full. The finale embeds a natty
song without words – with the piano
as often as not leading with a certain
decorative ebullience. Rustic dance
motifs and driving energy end the
work in a suitably high-spirited fashion.
Sandwiched between
the sonatas are three of Moscheles’s
arrangements for cello and piano from
Bach’s Well-tempered Clavier.
He was ahead of Mendelssohn, chronologically
as well as practically, given his
earlier birth, in propagandising for
Bach and Handel and indeed Scarlatti
- which he apparently played on a
Broadwood harpsichord in the late
1830s. The point of the arrangements
was to give them a more concertante
profile and to get them played in
chamber concerts, the better to bring
them to wider attention.
The performances
as noted are warm, affectionate and
intimate and the recording catches
the balance with great clarity and
justness. Notes, too, are up to the
expected Hyperion standard.
Jonathan Woolf