This is beautiful music. So why don't we hear it more frequently? Bert
Hagels, in his program note, suggests a shift in nineteenth-century
concert programming away from virtuoso works, intended primarily
to exploit the technical capacities of the violin (or the violinist),
to abstract concerti by non-violinists; he specifically cites
Beethoven, Mendelssohn and Brahms as favored composers. The
explanation makes sense, and would seem to hold true today:
among composers of the virtuoso persuasion, only Vieuxtemps
and Wieniawski - along with Paganini, the pioneer of the genre
- have kept a tenacious, if tenuous, hold on the repertory.
On the evidence of this program, Bériot's melodic, richly colored
concerti deserve at least as much respect, and exposure, as
any pieces by those composers.
Paganini's influence is marked in Bériot's early B minor concerto,
notably in the sharply etched, "Classical" rhythmic
outlines of the first movement's rigorous opening ritornello,
and the showy fireworks that it sets off. The central Andantino
has an appealing, bittersweet lyricism, saved from mawkishness
by touches of pungent instrumental color. The concluding Rondo
russe, while not a Gypsy dance movement as such, has the
sort of syncopated lilt associated with such movements.
In the D minor concerto, the composer attempts an integrated one-movement
form with some success. The orchestral introduction doesn't
suggest a condensed structure: the orchestra offers the conventional
two themes, respectively forceful and lyrical, before the soloist
takes them up. Instead of proceeding to the expected development
section, however, the music subsides into a calming cantabile
intermezzo, followed by a full recapitulation of the second
theme and a coda. It's all quite accomplished, and despite the
piece's relative brevity - it's just eleven-minutes-and-change
in duration - the musical argument doesn't require further amplification.
The G major concerto of seven years later reverts to a standard three-movement
pattern, but by now Bériot has come into his own as a melodist.
The short-winded motifs of Paganini and his followers have been
replaced by long, surging phrases that unfold in broad arcs
to span the bars. More than once as I listened, the heady swellings
of Lalo's Roi d'Ys overture came to mind. This score,
at least, should appeal to modern, sophisticated audiences.
Laurent Albrecht Breuninger is a persuasive advocate for these scores.
In the slow movements and equivalents, he phrases the arching
melodies sensitively, playing with an understated vibrancy. His
intonation and tone in the display passages are acceptable rather
than breathtaking most of the time, though he nails the most important
moments - exposed leaps and such - with thrilling accuracy. The
Northwest German Philharmonic under Beermann provide a colorful,
musically understanding backdrop, though the resonant bassi,
more Germanic than Gallic, underscore the foreshadowing of
the French post-Wagnerians. Gorgeous sound reproduction completes
the package.
Stephen Francis Vasta
