AVAILABILITY
www.meridian-records.co.uk
The portfolio of Stanford’s
string sonatas has been much enriched
over the last decade or so and this
release does for the Cello works what
Paul
Barritt and Catherine
Edwards did for the Violin Sonatas
in their Hyperion disc. In the same
way that Suzanne Stanzeleit and Gusztáv
Fenyö set down the First Violin
Sonata, back in 2000, so Julian
Lloyd Webber and John
McCabe recorded the Second Cello
Sonata in a 1993 ASV disc. Both the
Stanzeleit and Lloyd Webber recordings
were however a single disc conspectus
of British string works and not, as
here, devoted solely to Stanford. So
this Meridian disc allows us to narrow
our sights still further on the composer
and to weigh up his contribution to
the cello literature.
The First Sonata was
written in 1877 for Robert Hausmann,
a noted friend of Brahms, cellist of
the Joachim Quartet and one of the most
eminent string players in Europe. Despite
Stanford’s professed admiration for
Brahms, whose own first Cello Sonata
had been written a dozen years before,
it’s not a work much steeped in Brahmsian
rhetoric. And nor, to be fair, could
I detect any Stanford fingerprints either,
unless one counts the Celtic hints in
the second movement Allegretto and they’re
not readily traceable. This is a well-crafted
and warm work opening with an old-fashioned
Andante introduction, which soon opens
out into lyrical geniality and flourishing
passagework, albeit of a slightly diffuse
kind. Those Celtic hints are in the
central section of the Allegretto Vivace,
witty, alive, rhythmically propulsive,
and Stanford doing something he does
often and well in these works, namely
beautiful piano writing under a pizzicato
passage for the cello which sounds free,
easy and deliciously fresh. Christopher
Howell writes in his notes of the similarity
of the finale to Brahms’ contemporary
First Symphony (written the year before)
and there is an intense curve to the
Molto Adagio section, along with the
more lighthearted cantilever of the
Allegro conclusion.
The Second Sonata was
dedicated to probably the greatest cellist
of his generation, Alfredo Piatti, and
actually written at the cellist’s villa
by Lake Como. The piano writing here
is notably thicker and more chordally
flourishing, blockier, less Mendelssohnian.
As often as not the piano is primus
inter pares in the Allegretto First
Movement and the sense of Sturm und
Drang quite powerfully developed, as
are also those moments of yielding lyric
introspection. One of the most remarkable
moments is the passage for cello pizzicato
(once more) that is almost operatic,
certainly explicitly vocalised and irresistibly
beautiful – and all the more touching
in retrospect by virtue of the close
of the movement, one not untouched by
doubt. There’s noble dignity in the
slow movement with its two scherzi –
and despite the levity there’s always
that Stanfordian admixture of pain,
even here, and some expressive plangency.
If the piano seemed to lead in the earlier
movement it’s very definitely the cello
that commands the field here, notwithstanding
the rich writing for the piano. There’s
an arresting fugato start to the finale
and some terpsichorean incident, even
if Stanford hasn’t really solved the
finale problem; after the tempestuous
writing earlier it’s a slight let down.
The Ballata dates from
1918, is unpublished and has been edited
for performance by Christopher Howell.
Unlike the sonatas this was originally
written for Cello and Orchestra in the
form of Ballata and Ballabile
Op. 160 (there wasn’t enough room on
the disc for the Ballabile). It has
some rather decorative late nineteenth
century cellistic curlicues though it
simplifies as it develops and sheds
the impersonal preferring instead an
increasingly lyrical profile. Well worth
hearing.
The performances are
fine, with both musicians evincing total
identification. Howell, as readers know,
is something of an authority on Stanford
and Alison Moncrieff Kelly proves a
worthy partner. Her tone is quite lean
and sometimes there’s a bit of a buzz
in her lower strings but she gives full
rein to Stanford’s lyricism. The recording
is generally well balanced but there
are moments (see the first movement
of the First Sonata) when her lower
notes are occasionally covered. But
as I said in my introduction this is
a genuinely useful addition to the cello
literature and a boon to admirers –
an increasing number it’s good to observe
– of Charles Villiers Stanford.
Jonathan Woolf
Alison Moncrieff Kelly (cello) 