Bohuslav MARTINŮ (1890-1959)
Seven Arabesques, H201 (1931) [19:45]
Cello Sonata No 1, H277 (1939) [17:45]
Cello Sonata No 2, H286 (1941) [19:53]
Cello Sonata No 3, H340 (1952) [21:05]
Raphael Wallfisch (cello), John York (piano)
rec. December 2017 and April 2018, Wyastone Leys, Monmouth, UK
NIMBUS NI8105 [74:38]
I am a huge fan of Bohuslav Martinů but, perhaps controversially, have never been a massive fan of his cello music. Martinů was of course an excellent violinist, and I sometimes wonder if translating violin technique to the more avuncular range of the cello is the cause of “all that scrubbing”, as one colleague put it to me way back in my own student days.
There is less ‘scrubbing’ in evidence in the Seven Arabesques, in which there are some fun jazz-inflected movements and a generally lighter atmosphere than with the sonatas. There is lovely lyrical Adagio, and with the relative brevity of each movement there is plenty of inner contrast. The First Cello Sonata was composed under the shadow of the early months of World War II, and Martinů’s bittersweet major/minor harmonic stresses are in evidence in the angular first movement but relatively absent in the remarkable central Lento, described by John York in his booklet notes as “bleak, chilly, despairing and dissonant… surely the composer’s personal reaction to the betrayal, loss and destruction in his country.” The final Allegro con brio is intense and rhythmically forceful but by no means filled with joy.
The Second Cello Sonata was composed in the USA to where Martinů had fled after the Nazi invasion of France. This is another work filled with wartime stress and lament in the central Largo. With moments of cadenza in the second and third movements, the breadth and range of expression and often spectacular material in the piano in the first movement this sonata has the feel that it could have as easily have become a concerto. Yearning for home can be heard in references to folk music idioms, most clearly in a Bohemian dance in the finale, but also in the open intervals of the mournful central movement.
The Third Cello Sonata was dedicated to cellist Hans Kindler, whose apparently “inveterately and delightfully upbeat” personality translated itself into a work that gives a more positive impression than the first two. John York points towards eccentricities and enigmatic musical messages in this work, and its contrasts of mood are indeed mercurial. There are however some truly beautiful passages in the work, and the final Allegro (ma non presto) is a fittingly rousing conclusion to the entire programme.
These performances are all excellent, and the recording is good, if a little artificial in its left/right separation of the musicians. My main reference recording for these sonatas has mostly been that with Saša Večtomov and Josef Páleníček on the Supraphon label (review), which is a relatively antique document but is still a powerful set of performances. The piano in the Supraphon recording is not the best in the world, but with slightly broader tempi in general the sonatas give if anything a grander impression. Jonathan Woolf adds further links to alternative recordings in his review of Petr Nouzovský and Gérard Wyss on the Arco Diva label, and in the end it will be up to listeners to shop around to find the version that speaks to them with the greatest clarity. Raphael Wallfisch and John York can certainly stand comparison with the best.
Dominy Clements
Previous reviews: Jonathan Woolf ~ Leslie Wright
