Both these concertos have received a
number of fine recordings, most of which
are still in the current catalogue,
so I guess the main lure for this new
Hyperion disc is the fact that they
are coupled together for the first time.
I certainly found it a key point of
interest, as they are such diverse bedfellows.
The Vasks concerto
is almost becoming a repertoire piece,
mainly due to the championing of it
by its dedicatee, Gidon Kremer, whose
own recording is something of a benchmark.
It is such a richly lyrical and atmospheric
piece it could virtually be included
in Hyperion’s ‘Romantic Violin Concerto’
series. Modernist tendencies are generally
kept at arm’s length and where they
occur, such as the opening slithery
harmonics from the soloist, they never
rock the tonal boat. As Martin Anderson’s
authoritative booklet note rightly says,
‘…one of the prevailing characteristics
of Vasks’ music is sheer beauty of sound’
and goes on to observe that the opening
sonority ‘places Vasks stylistically
exactly where his geographical origins
are – between Pärt and Lutosławski’.
The fairly static overall harmonic movement
tends to suggest the former, while I
guess the shape of the melodic lines
and odd use of clusters might summon
up aspects of Lutosławski’s style,
without ever being too dissonant or
alienating. There is no doubt
that this is an intoxicating piece,
the rich bed of string orchestra textures
always providing comfort is the face
of some of the soloist’s melismatic
experiments. Marwood’s performance,
by turns wistful, soaring, virtuosic,
is all one could hope for; I can’t imagine
Kremer’s is any more convincing, and
that’s high praise.
What a perfect contrast
this is to the spiky neo-classicism
of the Weill, where the piquant dissonances
of the wind band and opening side drum
at once summon up echoes of Stravinsky’s
Soldier’s Tale and Hindemith’s
Kammermusik, though Anderson
rightly points also to Weill’s teacher
Busoni as another key influence. I suppose
this sound-world was almost inevitable
for a young composer working in 1920s
central Europe, but Weill is his own
man as well, never aping anyone. Indeed,
the whiff of decadent cabaret is also
present, with foreshadowings of his
later work with Brecht. It’s inventive,
rhythmically buoyant, occasionally a
little academic and dry, perhaps easier
to admire than love, but never less
than interesting and quite substantial
at nearly half an hour. Again, superbly
responsive and agile playing from all
concerned do the work’s cause nothing
but good.
It just remains to
be said that the recording is excellent,
so if you don’t know either piece and
fancy the coupling, don’t hesitate.
Tony Haywood
Anthony Marwood (violin/conductor) 
for details
