BRAHMS VIOLIN SONATA NO.2, FIRST MOVEMENT

Taking inspiration from the composer’s Lieder, violinist Daniel Kurganov highlights the importance of emulating vocal lines in the second of Brahms’s violin sonatas

Brahms composed the Violin Sonata no.2 op.100 in 1886 while immersed in a pastoral state of mind on a summer retreat in Thun, Switzerland. You can see that from the immediate lyrical warmth of the opening. It was this violin sonata that captured my heart and imagination first, and I ended up recording it on my debut album in 2018. It’s so obviously vocal, with references to his Lied op.105 no.1 ‘Wie Melodien zieht es mir’ (‘It moves like a melody’) with additional allusions to op.97 no.6 ‘Komm bald’ (‘Come soon’), and op.105 no.4 ‘Auf dem Kirchhofe’ (‘In the churchyard’). I find Elisabeth Schwarzkopf’s recording of ‘Wie Melodien’ to be a true inspiration.

Over many years I immersed myself in Brahms recordings by violinists I admire, notably Toscha Seidel and Henryk Szeryng. It certainly shaped the way I play and was an important moment in the development of my taste. I also learnt a lot from emulating the freedom with which they played.

For this new album of all three sonatas, pianist Constantine Finehouse and I had access to a 1706 Guarneri ‘filius Andreae’ violin and custom-made raw gut strings in collaboration with Aquila Corde, as well as an 1868 Streicher piano – exactly the same one that Brahms loved and used. The Streicher really allows drastic changes in colour when playing in different registers, very much like a singer. It greatly influenced the outcome of these new recordings and forever changed the way I approach this music and collaboration with a pianist in general. In this article I will give some advice on how a violinist might approach the work. Naturally there are many things to say from a pianistic and ensemble-focused point of view, but I hope this provides a good starting point for further exploration.

THE SOLOIST

NAME DANIEL KURGANOV

NATIONALITY AMERICAN

STUDIED WITH RUDOLF KOELMAN

RECORDS FOR HÄNSSLER CLASSIC, ORCHID CLASSICS

‘Brahms’s crafting of the interplay between the violin and piano is striking and beautiful – even seemingly unattainable’

Daniel Kurganov and Constantine Finehouse’s new album The Brahms

Age (Hänssler Classic HC22081) features all three Brahms violin sonatas performed on historical instruments. Watch the full performances and documentary at bit.ly/3srJrV4

SAULIUS KE PHOTOGRAPHY

Tempo and long lines

Allegro amabile is not a common direction you see in musical markings, amabile meaning tender and gracious. This opening theme arguably comes from Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg by Wagner, so that naturally lends a very vocal quality to this introduction.

While we often preach the virtues of ‘longer lines’, it’s crucial to notice the subtlety of spoken gestures interwoven within them. The piano introduces the piece with a bel canto-style line, to which the violin responds with a short inviting gesture – a tease, almost. Rather than as a seamlessly blended tapestry, I see this as a call and response. This spoken quality paves the way for the more elaborate and lyrical lines that develop later in the movement. However, one must take care not to spoil this introduction with excessive simplicity – the music is overqualified for that!

One thought experiment I like to run with music in general is: can you play this twice as fast and see what the music wants to tell you? It’s a curious thing to do, but it does expose a lot about the architecture of a piece. When you have these long stretches of music that go up and down in a million different possible ways, you can get lost in a sea of options. I find that by just singing it twice as fast to yourself, you start to see where the impulses are, and where there are peaks and valleys. So when you retain ten per cent of that in the final performance, you can really craft an intention into the music. It’s the best tool to discover longer lines.

Mood

Brahms builds up these themes to bar 31, which is a decidedly vertical moment in the music. It’s very optimistic music to me, and very warm. Even if it’s forte, it’s not like the Violin Sonata no.3 op.108. It’s not so heroic.

Rather than a sustained powerful sound in the forte, I started to favour a sound that was more percussive, in the sense that there’s a decay. This approach highlights the syncopation better in bars 33–34. This verticality is also inspired by the particular instrument – when we played it on the Streicher piano, the sound was markedly smaller when compared to a modern piano. That allows me to be more free and less anxious about being covered by the piano. The instrument moved me, as did the gut strings, which don’t respond in the same way as modern strings. Sometimes playing a nine-foot Steinway can feel like a heavy metal concert if the pianist isn’t careful. There are no such issues with the 1868 Streicher.

The piano has the second theme in bar 50 and the violin takes a shot at it in bar 66. There’s a way to play this very slow again, very legato, embodying expression in every note. Think of the connection between one note and the next, making sure to vibrate the little notes. That’s one hallmark of the great string players we know and love.

From bar 103 we have canonic material. Brahms is trying to find a bridge to that theme in bar 117. One can hear a nod to Beethoven’s death theme as it dies down into an accompanimental line, followed by the same theme in a highly vocal singing version. Then the first theme returns. If we were to find a climactic point, I would say it is bar 215. We have the second iteration of the second theme and something has to happen there. The abrupt change of character in bar 219 following the fortepiano must be prepared. Consider taking a generous amount of time on those triplets ( ) and land confidently on 219, letting the sound ring a little before moving through the music. This is, after all, the final time we hear this triumphant gesture. The music dissipates into a magical memory of the past by bar 227, signalling a coda. The end of the movement is a very clean V-I. As with much of Brahms, try not to overintellectualise the situation. You can play it with simplicity and drive.

Interplay with the piano

Brahms’s crafting of the interplay between the violin and piano is striking and beautiful – even seemingly unattainable. For example, in bar 50 the piano takes over and somehow you have to find a way to pass on your A sharp to the piano. It almost has to be the same instrument, like a mother passing something on to her child. If you rehearse this seriously, you’ll discover many ‘nos’ and hopefully some ‘yeses’. You’ll know immediately when you’ve achieved it.

There are a few technical elements to aid the violinist in finding lower dynamics and matching textures. I like experimenting with the fingerboard, seeing where the limit is and at what point it will fail and sound too wispy.

What’s very important is the feeling of a breath. The sound never completely stops. We have a diminuendo in the violin part, but it’s not a gradual exhalation. I think it’s an inhalation suggesting quiet tension. I like to hold it over for a little longer until the piano comes in, so there’s this rubbing up between the A sharp and the B – just enough to glue the seam. I’ve heard so many recordings where it’s just like the violinist and pianist are in their own worlds!

Authenticity and following the Urtext

Having editions such as Henle, which present Brahms’s original compositions untouched by later edits, is a treasure. It’s our window into his time and vision. But do not be afraid to change the markings of a score if you feel compelled to do so. It will either work or not. Always consider: if that hairpin weren’t there, would you have had the idea to do it? If the answer is no, then you must be careful that you are not simply following instructions. A sensitive audience will hear that. You can consider further: what if there were no markings at all? Just notes and rhythm. Where would your musical instincts lead you? While I believe in assigning weight to a composer’s vision, in the end you must let your ideas battle it out with the ideas of others as well as the composer’s markings. This tabula rasa (blank slate) approach is crucial in crafting your unique yet faithful rendition. You must be in collaboration with the composer. I believe this is how it was intended to be. This is the path of true authenticity.

INTERVIEW BY DAVINA SHUM