Insofar as Krufft is at all familiar to us these days it is primarily
as a composer of lieder, in which capacity he is sometimes cited
as an important influence on Schubert. So, for example, his songs
are represented (alongside those of Beethoven and Lachner) on
a 1998 recital by Christoph Prégardien (Teldec Das Alte
Werk 21473) and on Graham Johnson’s 3 CD set of
Songs
by Schubert’s Friends and Contemporaries (Hyperion
CDJ33051/3).
But there was more to Krufft than his songs. Indeed there was
rather more than music alone. Born in Vienna, where his father
was a Minister of State, he was initially given piano lessons
by his mother and then studied composition with Johann Georg
Albrechtsberger. Six years were spent at the university of Vienna,
three years devoted to philosophy and three to law. He then gained
employment as a Court and State secretary, employed by Metternich
- no less - on more than one foreign trip. His official duties
made considerable demands on him; but he was determined also
to pursue his love of music, to which he devoted many a night
of study and composition. This double life evidently took its
toll; an early biographer recounts that he died of exhaustion,
aged 39. In addition to his songs, he left sonatas for violin
and horn and a number of works for solo keyboard, including 24
Preludes and Fugues on the model of Bach - and these two fascinating
sonatas for bassoon.
These are innovative and often surprising works; they employ
more of the bassoon’s range than was explored by his contemporaries;
they are full of unexpected jumps and startling (but effective)
modulations. The 1807 sonata is in three movements. The first
begins with an adagio sostenuto that has a slightly tongue-in-cheek
air of self-dramatisation and is followed by a witty and inventive
allegro brillante. The central andantino is made up of a charming
theme and three variations and the finale is marked “all’ Ongarese’.
The whole is a delight.
The Sonata in B flat - published in the year of Krufft’s
death - is a larger, more romantic work, in four movements. The
grace of the opening allegro is succeeded by a lyrical adagio;
in the third movement the use of fugal structures in the scherzo
seems to look back to the baroque while the long and poignant
melodies of the trio have a far more romantic air to them. The
finale - in 6/8 - is a splendid movement, which juxtaposes lengthy
melodic lines with insistently repetitive rhythmic patterns.
This is work of real quality, a work which ought to be far better
known.
The husband and wife team of Wouter Verschuren and Kathryn Cok
are very persuasive advocates for this neglected music. Their
playing is utterly idiomatic and they prove themselves well able
to meet the considerable technical challenges (especially for
the bassoonist) which the music sets. The period instruments
on which they play add another layer of satisfaction for the
listener. Verschuren plays a bassoon made by Cuvillier at St.
Omer around 1810, and what a lovely and appropriate sound it
makes. Cok plays a modern fortepiano of five and a half octaves,
made by Gerard Tuinman in 2007, after an original by Walter and
Sohn (circa 1805. it is hard to imagine two instruments - and
it must be said two performers - more perfectly suited to this
music.
This is a very happy discovery, which makes it clear that Nikolaus
von Krufft was a considerable loss to music, both because he
was never able to devote anything like his full energies to the
art and because he died relatively young.
Glyn Pursglove
Wouter Verschuren (bassoon); Kathryn
Cok (fortepiano) 
