Field: Piano Concertos, Vol. 2

This is an interesting and enterprising selection. There is no doubt that Pauline Haas is an accomplished harpist and she has chosen a programme that shows off the many-sided facets and interpretative possibilities of her instrument.

John Thomas was official harpist to Queen Victoria and was known as the Chief of the Welsh Minstrels. His doleful The Minstrel’s Adieu to His Native Land illustrates the traditional folk heritage associations with the instrument.

The Smetana Die Moldau transcription is much more impressive and one of the most successful pieces in this collection. The harp brilliantly evokes the fresh tinkling, sparkling thrills of running water through the gushing springs of the upper Moldau, its progress through rapids, and forests and plains and onto Prague. The music growing from light-hearted youth in character through to proud mature grandeur as it approaches the Capital.

The lyrical beauty of Tchaikovsky’s two pieces from The Seasons are beguilingly caught by the harp, especially so of the June Barcarolle.

Virtuoso harpist Albert Zabel, was solo harpist for the Imperial Ballet in St. Petersburg. His Fantasy on themes from Faust by Charles Gounod is the most substantial piece in the programme and it allows the instrument to show off its virtuoso and dramatic/melodramatic capabilities. The Faust themes he chose seem less familiar and it would have been helpful if Pauline Haas could have elaborated her otherwise splendid, if rather colourfully effusive album notes. Ms Haas suggests that this Fantasy ‘follows the tradition of pieces written for virtuoso performance and is inspired by fashionable tunes of the period’? Whatever, here the harp sings romantically and dramatically enough and the virtuoso challenges are eagerly surmounted.

Mendelssohn’s Prelude and Fugue in E minor is a formidable work half in the Romantic tradition but also definitely in homage to the influence of Bach. The Prelude, beautifully evocatively played, ‘is often compared to a river of tears’ and the Fugue transcends tension and anger to a beatific acceptance of death. An extraordinary piece nicely, sensitively transcribed by Pauline Haas.

Finally, there is a formidable challenge for Haas; her arrangement for harp from Liszt’s piano transcription of Wagner’s Liebestodt. She successfully creates an atmosphere of calm at the beginning and serenity at the close. The emotionally intense climb to the peak of passion, is fine to start with, with plenty of sound perspective and power but, to me, it loses momentum on the way up when there is a mood-breaking sag and pause. Nevertheless this is a brave and worthy attempt.

A small moan, occasionally there is some distracting and disconcerting background noise –the soloist breathing I understand. Nevertheless this is a most interesting and enterprising collection demonstrating the undervalued capabilities of the most romantic of instruments.

– MusicWeb International (Ian Lace)

These performances are also included in a 4-disc set entitled "The Romance Collection", Naxos 8-504005.

If you enjoy beautifully refined, exquisitely crafted composition, and if you enjoy the guitar in company of a relaxed orchestra, then go for this disc" - Classical Guitar

Rebel and Francoeur's divertissement Zélindor, roi des Sylphes does not seem to have been performed since the end of the 18^th century and the performances by Opera Lafayette, on which this recording is based, were the work's modern première.

Francoeur and Rebel met in their teens when they were both members of the Paris Opera orchestra. Their friendship and professional association lasted a lifetime and culminated in their joint directorship of the Opera from 1757.

Along the way, they wrote a series of opera divertissements, all produced jointly. According to the 18^th century musicologist Jean-Benjamin de Laborde, Rebel wrote the dramatic bits and Francoeur the lyrical ones. But when taxed, the composers said that their pieces were by both of them. And they do seem to have hit upon a consistency of approach. Listening to Zélindor or the suite from La Trophée on this disc, the music sounds uniform throughout.

Judging by the photographs in the CD booklet, Opera Lafayette's performances were charmingly staged and it is a shame that a DVD could not have been produced as this is music that cries out for staging and for dance. The plot of Zélindor is slight. Zélindor (Jean-Paul Fouchecourt) is King of the Sylphs and is in love with a mortal, Zirphe (Heidi Grant Murphy). He needs to test her before finally agreeing to marry her. Along the way there are the usual dance episodes, attractive without showing any of the drama and invention of Rameau. The whole manages to stretch to some 50 minutes.

The work was first performed before King Louis XV in 1745 and went on to be popular at the Paris Opera. In 1753 Madame de Pompadour performed the role of Zélindor (suitably transposed up) in her private theatre at Versailles. It seems to have been a work popular for private performances. Voltaire's mistress, Madame du Chatelet, sang the role of Zirphe at performances put on by the Duchesse de Maine. Voltaire himself admired the libretto by Moncrif.

The work is indeed charming and attractively melodic, but lacks the depths and the dramatic vividness that is found in the best of Lully and Rameau.

Jean-Paul Fouchecourt is stylishly excellent in the title role. Heidi Grant Murphy charms as his lover Zirphe, though there were moments when her voice seemed to want to apply more vibrato than is needed. They are well supported by William Sharp and Ah Young Hong.

The Opera Lafayette Orchestra and Chorus are not Les Arts Florissants, but under Ryan Brown's direction they manage to find charm and crisp pungency in the music.

Zélindor is accompanied by an attractive suite from La Trophée, another divertissement premièred the same year as Zélindor.

The CD booklet contains the libretto in French and English, an informative essay and a selection of photographs from the Opera Lafayette production.

This is a performance that successfully evokes the charm - and the shallowness - of Louis XV's Versailles.

-- Robert Hugill, MusicWeb International

Tres piezas españolas (Three Spanish Pieces), dedicated to Andrés Segovia, were composed in 1954, the same year as Rodrigo’s second guitar concerto, Fantasía para un gentilhombre (Fantasia for a Gentleman). Fandango, with its ‘wrong note’ beginning, contains fine moments of lyricism accompanied by colourful chords, as well as many brilliant passages of triplets in which the player’s dexterity is exploited to the full. The composer wrote about this piece:

The fandango was a very popular dance in the eighteenth century; it was the dance both of the nobility and the masses...The fandango is a slow dance and sometimes includes ballads which are sung. Its origin is uncertain though many experts claim the fandango is of Arabian descent. Except in the trio of this central section, this Fandango does not employ popular themes, but it is inspired by the sevillanas, an extremely intricate folk-dance. The melodic style reflects the gallantry and pomp of the eighteenth century in Spain and especially in Madrid.

The second movement, Passacaglia, more introspective in character, reveals how resonant a single line can be on the guitar, especially on the bass strings. Gradually the figurations over the repeated ground become more complex through succeeding sections until a chordal rasgueado (strumming) takes us into the atmosphere of the indigenous guitar of Spain, but with slightly altered chords from what might be expected. The harp-like brilliance of the following section precedes a fugato coda in fandango rhythm. The transition from the pensive opening to the vigorous finale is a masterly piece of composing requiring a fine judge of pace and shading from the performer. Zapateado is a virtuoso demonstration of the rhythms of the flamenco dance famed for its skilful footwork. Its perpetual motion, inventive modulation and subtle rhythms create not only picturesque images of vigorous choreography but also provide a dramatic climax to the triptych.

Sonata giocosa, Rodrigo’s first sonata for the guitar, was composed in 1958 and dedicated to Renata Tarragó, an earlier editor of the Concierto de Aranjuez. The work is naturally good-humoured, following concepts of the ‘sonatina’ rather than the weightier precedents implied by ‘sonata’. The opening Allegro moderato contains several echoes and associations from other works, such as the ‘wrong note’ and dissonant chord concepts of Fandango from Tres piezas españolas, the downward triple runs reminiscent of the Concierto de Aranjuez, and rapid scale passages in quasi-flamenco mode. The slow movement, Andante moderato, relies on a lightly dotted rhythm interspersed with firm chords, the key of E minor here contrasting with the A major of the outer sections. A composer can hardly be giocoso (Italian for ‘jocose, playful, jesting’) at a more leisurely tempo but this Andante moderato has charm and elegance and the thematic implications of its opening bars are fully explored. The Spanish writer, Sergio Fernández Bravo, described the piece as ‘like a pavana, lento, solemn, full of reveries and references to a past steeped in history’. The final Allegro is a vigorous zapateado dance in six/eight time, with strummed chords, and a strong flamenco flavour, reinforcing the predominant mood of wit and gaiety.

Por los campos de España (In the Spanish Countryside) is a group of impressionistic pieces written over several years. The first of these, En los trigales (In the Wheatfields) was composed during a short summer visit to northern Spain in 1938 after Rodrigo had spent several years abroad. It can be viewed both as a stimulating portrait of the Spanish landscape and as a song of joyous homecoming after long absence.

Junto al Generalife (Close by the Generalife) (c.1955), was dedicated to the eminent German guitarist, Siegfried Behrend. The Generalife was the pleasure palace, with beautiful gardens, of the former kings of Granada, its name derived from the Arabic, Gennat-Alarif – ‘the gardens of the architect’. Situated on the slopes of the Cerro del Sol, the Generalife overlooks the city. The composition is in two parts. The introduction is a gentle lento e cantabile, with fast scale passages in quasi-improvisatory style punctuated by full chords. An Allegro follows, reminiscent of the malagueña. The middle section consists of the melodic tremolo recalling the themes of the granadinas, the flamenco form originating among the gypsies of Granada. The final pages present the recapitulation and a coda which includes passages of fiery descending triplets.

Bajando de la meseta (Coming Down from the Plateau) was completed in 1954, and dedicated to Nicolás Alfonso, Professor of Guitar at the Brussels Conservatoire. Rodrigo explained the background to the work:

The plateau (meseta) referred to is the one that forms the region of Castilla la Nueva; coming down from this plateau we reach Andalusia and in this imaginary and musical journey we are suddenly confronted by loud singing that echoes out to the wide horizon and then changes into a quick, trembling dance. It is the real, bewitching Andalusia, with its pulsing rhythms, which rewards the traveller after the long journey.

En tierras de Jerez (In the Lands of Jerez), written for the famous Austrian guitarist, Luise Walker, was published originally in Antologia per Chitarra (Ricordi, 1973), along with compositions such as Poulenc’s Sarabande (his only work for guitar) and Petrassi’s Suoni notturni. Jerez is the sherry producing area of Spain around Jerez de la Frontera, some sixty kilometres from Seville on the way to Cádiz. Sherry was first exported to England from there in the reign of Henry VII. Originally the town was the Roman settlement called Asido Caesaris, so the word ‘sherry’ may distantly evoke the name of Caesar. Later Jerez became a Moorish settlement until recaptured in 1264 by Alfonso X. The composition offers a variety of moods and some exquisite melodic moments. The quiet opening, in six/eight time, deploys once again the single line concept culminating in tersely rhythmic chords. The theme returns (after the chords), stated an octave higher, ending in a rapid scale run. An intriguing section with strummed six-string chords follows, conjuring up images of the Andalusian guitar glimpsed from afar. After a melody in the bass accompanied by treble chords, an intricate arpeggio episode (broken into by further chords) is introduced. This part also ends with a virtuosic scale across the length of the fingerboard. The climax consists of strummed chords, a repeat of the bass melody section, and a further hearing of the original theme.

Entre olivares (Among Olive Groves), dedicated to Manuel López Ramos, was first published by Ediciones Musicales Madrid (1958) in company with En los trigales (edited by Narciso Yepes). It begins with discordant triplet chords (such as a chord of G major set against an augmented fourth, the C sharp). The energy of the piece, a rapid allegro, suggests that Entre olivares is less a serene amble through twisted little trees on Spanish hillsides than a boisterous peasant dance. The middle section presents a characteristic device of Rodrigo – a melodic line articulated on the bass strings contrasted against allegro gracioso quaver passages featuring the use of alternating pedal notes and rapid movement on the treble strings. The opening theme returns, with a frenetic coda, the last bars marked accelerando and siempre accelerando.

In 1960 Rodrigo composed Tonadilla for two guitars, a work which demonstrates the composer’s mastery of guitar idioms. Dedicated to the esteemed Presti-Lagoya Duo, the perfect appropriateness of the duo writing, the high level of virtuosity demanded, and the breadth of the sonata-like structure, reveal Rodrigo at full creative stretch. Rodrigo, in a short note, observed how the tonadilla is related to the Italian intermezzo, a musical interlude played between acts of a theatrical presentation, whether burlesque or tragedy, and thus a flexible form capable of expressing many diverse moods. Tonadilla is made up of brief themes developing in the style of a sonata as the three movements conjure up individual scenes according to the listener’s imagination. The language of Tonadilla is lucid and logical, inspired by the music of Scarlatti but absorbing within the first movement bitonal passages representative of both the twentieth-century and the traditional influence of Scarlatti’s harmonic writing.

Fandango del ventorrillo (Fandango of the Little Tavern) was originally a piano piece written in 1938, dedicated to Emile Trépard, a Parisian friend of the composer, and included in the suite Cuatro piezas para piano (Four Pieces for Piano). Emilio Pujol, guitarist and scholar, arranged this for two guitars and it was first published in Paris by Max Eschig in 1965. A subsequent arrangement by Pepe Romero was published by Ediciones Joaquín Rodrigo, Madrid, in 1993.

The pianists, Gregory Allen and Linton Powell, described this as ‘another of Rodrigo’s masterly exercises in two-part counterpoint...full of unexpected quirks such as off-beat accents, overlapping phrases, vehement interruptions, mercurial harmonic twists – and a diabolical little drumroll’. The piece certainly displays considerable indebtedness to the late Baroque, exploring harpsichord figurations with implications of the toccata style in dexterity and lightness of mood. Moreover, the repeated notes of the opening theme have various similarities with the melodic vitality of En los trigales, composed the same year. The transferring of Fandango del ventorrillo from pianoforte to plucked strings seems entirely natural, enhancing the piece by bringing it closer to the timbres and spirit of the eighteenth-century keyboard.

Graham Wade

Joaquín Rodrigo is best known for his Concierto de Aranjuez, but the fame of this great work has hidden a prolific and courageous artist who struggled against blindness and hardship, and whose luminous, optimistic music is captured here in rarely heard works for violin that span almost his entire life as a composer. The timelessly beautiful Adagio from the Sonata pimpante is indeed comparable to that of the Concierto de Aranjuez, and all of these pieces are captivating in their intense lyricism and profound originality, from the Dos ezbozos expressing childhood memories of the Parterre Gardens in Valencia, to Rodrigo’s only piece for solo violin, the Capriccio, and the vivacious and nostalgic Set cançons valencianes.

KREUTZER Violin Concertos: No. 17 in G; No. 18 in e; No. 19 in d • Axel Strauss (vn); Andrew Mogrelia, cond; San Francisco Conservatory O • NAXOS 8570380 (71: 52)


From a position of relative neglect (only his 40 studies for violin remained really active in the repertoire), Rodolphe Kreutzer has risen to greater prominence with recordings of his studies (by Elizabeth Wallfisch, cpo 999901, Fanfare 32:5) and concertos (No. 19 in D Minor, No. 18 in E Minor, and No. 15 in A Major, with violinist Laurent Albrecht Breuninger and Alun Francis conducting the SWR Radio Orchestra Kaiserlautern, on cpo 777188, Fanfare 33:6; and No. 9 in E Minor, No. 13 in D Major, the Variations on “Nel cor più non mi sento,” and Montanyas Regaladas , with violinist Saskia Lethiec and José Ferreira Lobo conducting the Orquestra do Norte, Porto, and the Versailles Conservatory Instrumental Ensemble, Talent 2911 126, Fanfare 33:1) now being frequently issued. In fact, Breuninger’s recording included Kreutzer’s last two concertos, the 18th and 19th, which Axel Strauss now offers along with the roughly contemporaneous 17th.


The slow movement of Kreutzer’s 17th concerto provides ample—and poignant—melodic relief from the bold thematic statements and technical passagework that mark much of its first movement. If Giovanni Battista Viotti, who’s often linked with Kreutzer (the French “Viotti-Rode-Kreutzer Concerto”) introduced Haydn’s symphonic orchestration into the violin concerto’s armamentarium, Kreutzer approached the sound of Beethoven’s orchestra, as Bruce R. Schueneman’s notes point out. But Kreutzer kept the violin at the forefront, a position that Axel Strauss and his 1845 J. F. Pressenda violin commandingly occupy. He’s snappy and alert in the passagework, as well, delivering impressive barrages of double-stops and sharply characterizing, both stylistically and rhythmically, the Rondo finale’s thematic material. And, as in the first movement’s second theme, he imparts an almost nostalgic sweetness to his reading of the second movement. Those who expect a clone of Viotti’s more familiar concertos (a greater number of them have remained in print) may be pleasantly surprised by Kreutzer’s inventiveness and keen ear for orchestral timbres.


The 18th and 19th concertos begin with Moderato movements, both almost double the length of the six-odd-minute affair that opens the 17th Concerto. As does the 17th, the 18th begins with a movement that explores the passagework, notably in double-stops, that must have stood near the avant garde of violinists’ technical capabilities at the time Kreutzer wrote it; although hardly a virtuoso vehicle in today’s terms, it exploits the instrument’s idiomatic possibilities with a canniness that the trailblazing composers of the era seemed to possess in abundance (else, how could the violin have achieved the prominence it did?), presenting them in the context of dramatic orchestral statements and barnstorming tuttis. Strauss hardly plays this work, or the 17th Concerto, for that matter, dismissively, as many might do (hear how seriously he takes the recitative passages in the middle of the first movement); perhaps the sense of history developed by period instrumentalists has opened the eyes even of world-weary and everything-but-masterpiece-disdaining conservatory students to the merits of compositions like this one. Strauss once again brings a plausible plaintiveness to the second movement with its melody flowing over a light accompaniment and an exuberant if dignified vitality to the final Rondo. Like the first movement of the 17th Concerto, that of the 19th (which Schueneman cites Boris Schwarz as considering, with Viotti’s celebrated 22nd, as one of the outstanding examples of the French Violin Concerto—Joachim admired these two concertos as well, placing Viotti’s just after Beethoven’s and ahead of Mendelssohn’s and Brahms’s) develops the contrast between the lyrical and the dramatic, which continues, in its way, into the second movement, while the finale provides the usual good-natured conclusion (often, as here, with the principal theme in dotted rhythms).


Those who consider Kreutzer’s studies mere drudgery that a violinist has to endure on the way to the Paganini caprices should discover in these concertos, as well as in the others that have been recorded, a composer of unsuspected talent, even one worthy of Beethoven’s dedication of the famous Ninth Sonata. The engineers have placed the violin in the forefront of the San Francisco Conservatory Orchestra, which plays with vibrant and sonorous enthusiasm. Strongly recommended.


FANFARE: Robert Maxham

Pierre Rode’s concertos represent the full flowering of the French violin school, the origins of which can be traced back to his teacher Viotti’s arrival in Paris in 1782. Bold and youthful, the First Violin Concerto contrasts with the more pastoral and introspective moods of the Fifth Violin Concerto, while the Ninth was written during the composer’s stay in Russia. All three works share Rode’s signature finales which ‘sparkle with gracefulness, piquancy and impishness’. Performed using painstakingly prepared new editions, this is the third of five volumes containing all thirteen of Rode’s Violin Concertos.

Review:
Make no mistake, Friedmann Eichhorn is one of the most remarkably gifted violinists of our time, a fact made clear by this cycle of Pierre Rode’s concertos. Born in Bordeaux in 1774, Rode’s life as a touring virtuoso violinist was of mixed fortunes, eventually dying in obscurity at the age of fifty-six. As a composer he wrote almost exclusively for the violin, including thirteen concertos, though all budding students of the instrument will recognise his name for his pieces to develop technique. The Seventh concerto found a place in the repertoire well into the early 20th century, but all others had already been long forgotten. Yet this disc is full of those audience pleasing melodies that you will find in Paganini’s popular concertos, the mix of lyric attractions, with outrageous demonstrations of virtuosity made all the more demanding by Rode’s mercurial decoration of the melody. All three works on the present release require extensive use of spiccato, and I have never heard such micro-second accuracy as Eichhorn achieves, each note sparkling like a perfectly cut diamond. Then for aspiring virtuosos, just try that at Eichhorn’s pianissimos and then you will have perfect bow control. Never sounding hurried, his tempos are still electrifying, and just to add a final degree of brilliance, Eichhorn provides more technical hurdles with his own cadenzas that are perfectly in keeping with Rode’s style.

-- David Denton, Naxos

As a leading virtuoso who premiered Beethoven’s final violin sonata with the Archduke Rudolph, Rode was at the center of European musical life, his compositions sitting at the apex of the French violin school. The final volume in this acclaimed series presents one of his most inspired pieces, the Violin Concerto No. 11 in D major, lyrically expressive and full of good-humored zest. Violin Concerto No. 12 in E major is notable for the ingenious ways in which, through trills, staccato, spiccato and cadenzas, Rode heightens the music’s bravura. Violinist Friedemann Eichhorn studied with Valery Gradow at the University of Music in Mannheim, with Alberto Lysy at the International Menuhim Music Academy in Gstaad, Switzerland, and with Margaret Pardee at The Juilliard School in New York. He performs with many renowned orchestras across the globe, and his previous recordings for Naxos were highly acclaimed.

The leading exponent in his time of the French Violin School and the violinist who premièred Beethoven’s last Violin Sonata, Pierre Rode composed exclusively for his own instrument, thirteen concertos and the Caprices being his greatest compositional legacy. The contrast between virtuosic challenges and lyrical interludes is the notable feature of the Violin Concerto No. 2, whilst the long-breathed melodies and dramatic flourishes of Concerto No. 8 mark this work as one of his most beautiful. This is the fourth of five volumes containing the thirteen Rode Violin Concertos.

Pierre Rode was one of the giants of the violin world. He was a performer of superb technique—he premièred Beethoven’s last Violin Sonata in Vienna—and wrote a large amount of music for his instrument, most prominently 13 concertos. They exhibit the highest qualities of the French School: grace, lyricism, fleetness and fluency. The Third is grandiose and brilliant, the Fourth is tauter and gloriously agile, whilst the Sixth is one of his greatest, most famous and complete statements in the concerto form. The first release in this series, (Concertos Nos. 7, 10 and 13 / 8.570469), earned Friedemann Eichhorn the highest plaudits: “sweetness of phrasing…with the delicacy of a caress—while skirting the technical minefields as if they didn’t exist.” (Fanfare)

RODE Violin Concertos: No. 7; No. 10; No. 13 • Friedemann Eichhorn (vn); Nicolás Pasquet, cond; Southwest German RO Kaiserlautern • NAXOS 8.570469 (58:00)


Pierre Rode (1774–1830) and Rodolphe Kreutzer (1766–1831) are well known to all serious students of the violin for their technique building exercises in the form of etudes and caprices. Of the same generation were Viotti (1755–1824) with his 29 violin concertos and Pierre Baillot (1771–1842) with his L’art du violon . But they were all outdone, if not undone, by their near contemporary from Genoa, Niccolò Paganini (1782–1840). These were the standard bearers of two competing schools of violin-playing and pedagogy, one Italian, the other Franco-Belgian. Kreutzer, despite his German-sounding name, and Rode were French, as was Baillot, and their approach to the instrument would lead to Vieuxtemps and through him to Wieniawski and thence to Ysaÿe. Paganini, on the other hand, was a tough act to follow. Other than Ernesto Camillo Sivori, Paganini’s sole pupil, the only violinist-composer of note to continue in the Italian’s footsteps was the Jewish Moravian Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst (1814–1865).


Not that casual acquaintance with the works of any of these violin wizards would reveal in any obvious way the more subtle differences in the application of their practices, for envelope-pushing, finger- and bow-bending, exhibitionistic virtuosity was the order of the day and the name of the game. The never-ending pursuit of one-upmanship superseded all else; the impossible was unplayable only until it was surpassed by the next even greater impossibility. An “I’ll show you,” attitude prevailed. Yet, for all its warping of musical values, the extension of the possible in violin technique opened the door to composers who were able to incorporate those technical advances into major, serious works. I doubt that the violin concertos of Mendelssohn, Brahms, Tchaikovsky, Sibelius, and others could have been written had these earlier 19th-century virtuosos not provided the necessary tools.


Though Rode studied with Viotti, he later worked with Kreutzer and Baillot at the Paris Conservatory, contributing to the school’s official Violin Method . The French “way” mitigated some of the less graceful aspects of the Italian approach by introducing a greater refinement of tone production through smoother bowing and phrasing techniques. Some insight into this can be gained from a rather unlikely source: Beethoven. Rode’s 1812–13 concert tour brought him to Vienna, and it was for the violinist’s appearances there that Beethoven composed his last violin sonata, the No. 10 in G-Major. During its composition, the composer was in contact with Rode regarding his preferred style of playing. We know this from a letter Beethoven wrote to Archduke Rudolph, complaining, “We like to have more surging passages in our finales, but R did not consent to that.” Unusual for Beethoven to yield to anyone in matters musical, but we have in this sonata a clear example of the more elegant, aristocratic style that Rode and the French school preferred.


In addition to his coauthorship of the aforementioned Violin Method and his 24 Caprices so well beloved (?) by students, Rode composed 13 violin concertos, none of which has found favor among present day players. In this, Rode has ceded the playing field to his teacher, Viotti, whose concertos—at least some of them—are performed and recorded with relative frequency. This recent Naxos CD is in fact the only recording currently listed of any of Rode’s concertos, and I sincerely hope that its release changes that, for the works on this disc are, in my opinion, more appealing and of greater musical substance than are any of Viotti’s concertos I’ve heard, and that includes his famous No. 22 in A Minor recorded many times over.


No one who listens to these Rode concertos will be disappointed by a lack of virtuoso fireworks. There’s enough double-stopping, rapid runs, and bowing tricks to satisfy even the most insatiable appetites for hire-wire circus acts. But there is also a depth and breadth to Rode’s muse, and a sophisticated air to his melodic invention that elicits a strong emotional response and strikes a genuine responsive chord. Simply put, there is some exquisitely beautiful music here. And Friedemann Eichhorn, who is new to me, plays with a sweetness of tone and expressiveness of phrasing that grace Rode’s exceptional lyricism with the delicacy of a caress, all the while skirting the technical minefields as if they didn’t exist. Nowhere does Eichhorn’s tone turn coarse or his bowing become labored, even in the most fiendishly difficult passages. This is violin-playing of a caliber to match this extraordinary music. In a single stroke, Eichhorn and Naxos have done for Rode (and for us) what should have been done long ago. It’s my fervent hope that they will see fit to give us Rode’s remaining 10 concertos.


No fancier of the violin should be without this disc. It may even show up on my 2009 Want List.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Playing a golden-toned 10-course lute and using original manuscript sources or his own sensitive reconstructions, British lutenist Nigel North presents a delightful recital of dances by Robert Johnson, a contemporary of Shakespeare for whose plays he wrote songs and incidental music. Although they use the old forms of pavan, galliard, almain and fantasie, Johnson’s exquisite works tend towards the more expansive, lyrical style that would later flourish in the Baroque period.
Nigel North’s critically acclaimed boxed set of Dowland’s Complete Lute Music is also available (Naxos 8.504016).

Tim Fain has constructed an adventurous and exciting recital of American violin music. It takes in the concert version of Philip Glass' Einstein on the Beach-Fain "played the hell out of the piece".