Virtuosity
is often associated with technical brilliance. Here we are in
the realms of playing as many demisemiquavers as possible within
a certain time-span, alternatively indulging in double-stops,
big leaps, flageolets and other showy things. In my book virtuosity
is also something deeper: how to turn a phrase memorably, how
to spin a lovely pianissimo, in short how to expose the musical
material in the best possible light. These thoughts struck me
when I listened to the Carmen Fantasy on this disc. After the
dark ‘Fate’ motif that opens the composition and returns at
the end, a great deal of the music is soft, slow; most of the
time the soloist explores the low and middle register of the
instrument. It has often been said that no instrument sings
more than the cello. Indeed this is what the player is asked
to do in an inward and beautifully nuanced Flower Song. Then,
towards the end, there is a lot of showing off, as must be the
case in an encore piece like this. Not even the loveliest pianissimo
brings down the house as fireworks do. This fantasy was written
in 1985 for Robert Cohen to serve as a companion piece to Franz
Waxman’s famous one for violin.
Operatic
material is also the basis for the next two pieces. Franz Danzi,
who originally wrote his variations for cello and orchestra,
chose the Don Giovanni – Zerlina duet La ci darem la mano
as his theme. The result is entertaining and well-wrought. Mario
Castelnuovo-Tedesco utilized Figaro’s Largo al factotum
for his composition, dedicated to the great Piatigorsky. He
twists and turns the material almost inside out and spices it
with quite stunning harmonies. Certainly this is the boldest
piece in the programme and possibly also the toughest nut for
the players.
Gaspar
Cassadó was a legendary Spanish cellist who, among many other
things, also had a trio together with pianist Louis Kentner
and violinist Yehudi Menuhin. Lamento de Boabdil was
composed in 1931 and dedicated to his great predecessor Pablo
Casals. Boabdil was the name by which the Spanish knew the last
Moorish ruler of Granada, Muhammed XII. He replaced his father
in 1482 but ten years later Granada fell to the Catholic Kings.
The lament is said to reflect Boabdil’s sorrow when he saw his
conquered city. It is melancholy and soft.
The
rest of the disc is devoted to Antonín Dvořák, whose melodic
sweetness is so well suited to the cello. A colleague to Dvořák
on the teaching staff of Prague Conservatory was the cellist
Hanuš Wihan, the dedicatee of Dvořak’s cello concerto.
It was also for him that the composer intended the Rondo
in G minor, which was played in its original version – the
one Maria Kliegel plays here – by Wihan at a concert in March
1892. On the same occasion he played Silent Woods, originally
for piano duet. Both works were later arranged for cello and
orchestra.
The
Sonatina in G major Op. 100, composed in America in November
1893, is better known in the version for violin and piano but
Oscar Hartwieg’s arrangement for cello works excellently. It
also exists in a version for flute and piano by James Galway.
The American background is very obvious. The first movement
opens with a direct quotation of the popular song Clementine
and there are other references as well. The second movement
has a theme that Dvořák came across when he visited the
Minnehaha Falls and is supposed to have Indian origins. There
are echoes also of both the New World Symphony and the
American Quartet, once known as the “Nigger” quartet.
Maria
Kliegel is reportedly the most recorded cellist on CD. She keeps
the usual high standards of playing here. I have praised her
in several reviews on MusicWeb before and I see no reason to
do otherwise this time. Moreover she has a very sensitive piano
partner in Nina Tichman, who has a prosperous career as solo
pianist but works extensively with Maria Kliegel. They have
recorded Beethoven’s cello sonatas and since 2001, together
with violinist Ida Bieler also collaborate as the Xyrion Trio,
which is in the process of recording the complete Beethoven
trios.
The
recorded sound appeared slightly “swimmy” on my equipment but
not to such a degree that it will spoil the listening pleasure.
Keith Anderson’s notes on the music are informative. That said,
he muddles things up a bit concerning the Rondo and Silent
Woods. The opus numbers are of little help, sometimes totally
misleading for the chronology of Dvořák’s works; Burghauser’s
catalogue (the B-numbers in the heading) is a more reliable
source.
Göran
Forsling
Maria Kliegel
(cello) 
