A1 VAŇHAL Keyboard Capriccios, Opp. 31
Total Page：16
File Type：pdf, Size：1020Kb
A1 VAŇHAL Keyboard Capriccios, opp. 31 and 36 • Michael Tsalka (pn) • GRAND PIANO 680 (79:58) This recording is part of Grand Piano’s admirable series of largely undiscovered keyboard repertoire. It is a source of continual amazement that much of this repertoire—all by distinguished composers with significant reputations during their period of activity—has languished unheard for several centuries. In the case of Johann Baptist Vaňhal (1739–1813), the obscurity has persisted for nearly a quarter of a millennium. Vaňhal was a leading figure among Viennese musicians during the second half of the 18th century, enjoying patronage from the Schaffgotsches and producing 73 symphonies and 100 quartets. The six keyboard capriccios on this disc were written during the 1780s among many other small- scale works marketed to amateur performers, and have not been recorded previously. At their best, the capriccios are highly elegant and refined, with deeply-felt arioso passages and playful virtuoso figuration. The final capriccio of each set is particularly well composed, with thoroughly engaging material that is carefully and interestingly developed. The general effect is somewhat like that of Haydn, filtered through a more formal, somewhat restrained sensibility. Vaňhal’s writing is not as quirky as Haydn’s, nor as adventurous as Franz Anton Hoffmeister’s. He stays solidly within structural and harmonic convention, introducing an occasional surprising harmonic progression or unexpected melodic twist only as a means of contrast with more familiar material rather than as an independent object of interest. This is not to say that his music is predictable or lacks interest. Vaňhal’s writing exhibits complete mastery of the form and a wealth of melodic ideas, if not the unmistakably unique profile of a truly world class composer. Highlights of the series include the serene, stately introductory passage of op. 36/2, which Michael Tsalka plays with considerable sensitivity and conviction; the charming repeated-note theme of op. 31/2’s slow movement; and the interesting syncopations that permeate the furious opening movement of op. 36/3. Where Vaňhal falls short is in a tendency to repeat material more times than is welcome, both locally and structurally, and in an occasional overreliance on sequences and unvaried patterns of figuration. The music is never less than attractive at such moments, but does not reward close attention. Michael Tsalka clearly understands Vaňhal’s music. He effectively communicates the humor of the faster movements and plays the more lyrical passages with a singing tone and subtle flexibility of tempo and phrasing. Moreover, he ornaments repeated sections in ideal style. His passagework occasionally suffers from slight unevenness, and he does not always get to the bottom of the keys during quieter sections, but these are quibbles. Of more concern is that he appears to misread the score at several points, changing some snap rhythms to dotted rhythms and altering accidentals. I might attribute this to divergence between editions, though he misses a clef change toward the end of op. 36/1’s first movement, resulting in an audibly peculiar passage. The engineering is live and articulate, though a bit dry for my taste. The slight twang of the strings during several of the pedal releases would be ameliorated with just slightly more room ambience. This is not a perfect recording, but it is a good one, and strikes me as a fair representation of Vaňhal’s work. Any reader interested in Vaňhal or, more broadly, in the neglected composers of past eras, will be glad to have it. Myron Silberstein This article originally appeared in Issue 38:6 (July/Aug 2015) of Fanfare Magazine. VANHAL Concertos: in C for Bassoon and Orchestra;1 in C for Clarinet and Orchestra;2 in F for Oboe and Strings;3 in F for 2 Bassoons and Orchestra4 • Michel Lethiec, cl 2; Piet Van Bockstal, ob 3; François Baptiste, bn 4; Luc Loubry, bn 1, 4; Hans Rotman, cond; Prussian CO. • TALENT 2910 75 ( 67:38) Elsewhere, I have had occasion to mention Vanhal in connection with a review of symphonies by Josef Mysliveček and a series of recordings of music by Mozart's contemporaries undertaken by Matthias Bamert on Chandos. I suspect “Mozart Contemporaries“ is more likely to arouse more curiosity than it would if one said, “Haydn Contemporaries,“ but the fact of the matter is that these approximately contemporaneous purveyors of early Classical style are closer, both chronologically and musically, to Haydn than they are to Mozart. Jean-Baptiste (or, if one prefers, Jan Křtitel) Vanhal (1739-1813), as you can see, was just seven years Haydn's junior, and outlived him by only four years. Mozart wasn't born until 1756 and died prematurely in 1791. So much for chronology. But musically too, Vanhal's style is very close to the mature Haydn, with occasional glances at Boccherini. In this regard, it can be said that Vanhal's classicism is a bit later and somewhat more advanced than that of Mysliveček. The point, however, is that there is much of the rustic, peasant robustness one hears in Haydn, and almost none of the Italianate curvaceous voluptuousness one hears in Mozart. Distilled to its simplest, if not simplistic, formula (and I don't mean this in a deprecating way), it's the difference between down-home country cookin' and haute cuisine. Vanhal was the country bumpkin (quite literally), Mozart, the refined urbanitě. Born in Bohemia (what is now the Czech Republic) and growing up in a rural village, Vanhal had little formal training. It wasn't until his violin-playing attracted the attention of a countess that things began to look up for him. She took him with her to Vienna and arranged for him to study composition with Dittersdorf. In Vienna, he rubbed elbows with both Haydn and Mozart, and was held in such high regard that his fame spread as far as the US, where some of his symphonies were played. He was quite prolific, producing some 100 string quartets, 73 symphonies, nearly 100 sacred vocal and choral works, and countless instrumental pieces. Three of the four concertos on this disc tell us that Vanhal was a skilled composer who knew how to write a good tune, turn a good phrase, and entertain an audience. But one of them, the Concerto in F for two bassoons, is a knockout. It is clear from the very beginning that this work stands heads and shoulders above the rest. Its first movement alone is more than double the length (13:05) of its companions. This may well be to Vanhal's concerto output what the D-Major Cello Concerto was to Haydn's concerto output, his crowning achievement in the medium. It is a glorious affair, and one could easily be excused for believing it is by the elder master himself. The second movement, marked Andante grazioso, is exquisitely beautiful. The two bassoons, embracing each other with overlapping suspensions, like two lovers entwining, made me think of that gorgeous slow movement from Bach's Concerto in C Minor for violin and oboe, where the two instruments interlace in a similar way. What a riotous romp the last movement is, with the two bassoons huffing and puffing away as fast as they can. I don't know, folks—this may be better than Haydn. I recommend this CD enthusiastically. All of the participants are excellent, but the bassoonists, Luc Loubry and François Baptiste, stand out especially. May we have more Vanhal, please. Jerry Dubins This article originally appeared in Issue 29:1 (Sept/Oct 2005) of Fanfare Magazine. VANHAL Violin Concertos: in G; No. 3 in G; in B♭ • Takako Nishizaki (vn); Helmut Müller-Brühl, cond; Cologne CO • NAXOS 8.557815 (70:33) Today, for those who ply their respective crafts as independent contractors or freelancers, the employment and economic climates are problematic. They face an unknown and ever-changing market that can be our best friend on Monday and our worst enemy by week’s end. We may go for days or perhaps weeks without a ring of the telephone or that awaited e-mail signalling another opportunity to replenish our faltering bank accounts. But this scenario is nothing new. It was much the same in 18th-century Europe, especially with regard to the arts in general and music in particular. Most composers sought the relative security (such as it was) of an appointment to a court. Even with such a post, problems would arise. For example, a composer might be forced to compromise his talent by creating trite and meretricious meringue for a patron with only a peripheral musical interest. Or, when a ruler died, the musicians in his employment might have their salaries reduced to a pension by a less-enlightened successor or even be dismissed and find themselves again in search of gainful employment. One composer who elected to brave the prevailing trend was Bohemian-born Jan Křtitel Vaňhal (1739—1813), also known as Jan Ignatius Wanhal and Johann Baptist Wanhal. Since it was not uncommon for agents or publishers to alter the spelling or language of a composer’s name, Vanhal’s has appeared in various corrupted forms, including “van Hal,” suggesting the possibility of a distant Dutch or Flemish ancestry. Germanic or Italian names were adopted by two other prominent Bohemian-born composers of the era, Johann Stamitz (Jan Stamic) and Antonio Rosetti (Anton Rössler). The son of a bonded Czech servant, Vanhal rose far above his humble origins in an obscure village and during his 74 years had become one of Vienna’s most respected musicians and composers. Vanhal claimed among his colleagues and students some of the most brilliant minds in musical history, and his music had achieved immense popularity with performers and audiences alike because he kept his finger on the musical pulse of the public.