There is a great deal of young musical 
                talent in the Czech Republic and in 
                Slovakia (violinist Veronika Jarůšková 
                is Slovakian) and Arco Diva is doing 
                its bit to promote it. The unusually 
                glamorous cover picture is augmented 
                by Jitka Hosprová’s own thoughts 
                on musical life as well as autobiographical 
                details and reflections on the music 
                compiled by note writer Petr Veber – 
                the second paragraph indeed deals with 
                the issue of Hosprová’s provocative 
                presence. That she has also constructed 
                a balanced and challenging programme 
                is perhaps more to the point. Three 
                of the six pieces are for solo viola 
                and elsewhere she is joined by Jarůšková 
                in the Martinů and by the harpist 
                Kateřina Englichová for the arrangements 
                of Britten and Monti.  
              
 
              
Slavicky 
                is still underrepresented outside his native land but his fairly 
                recent death may present an opportunity for assessment. The Rhapsody 
                is a short, three-movement work of some eleven minutes. Its opening 
                is stark, quite abrasive and resinous but the central movement 
                opens out in restrained lyricism, the solo viola flying in 
                alt and occasionally undercut by the rude imposition of tough 
                contrastive interjections. The movement’s title, Dialogo drammatico 
                gives one an indication of its binary disjunction. In this way 
                the internalised dialogue sees alternate lyrical and violent material 
                ending with the viola’s resumption of playing in alt, having 
                presumably won over the fractious disquiet of its other, divided 
                self. Much simpler is the finale, full of virtuosic dash and something 
                of an ear cleanser. Zdeněk Lukáš is, with Sylvie Bodorová, 
                one of the members of the Quattro group of composers whom Arco 
                Diva has done so much recently to promote. His four movement solo 
                sonata is more companionable listening than Slavicky’s work. The 
                Interludio is musing, elegiac with some folk influence emerging 
                over its span whilst the bustly Moto perpetuo opens out for a 
                brief but dazzling tune – some scary intonational difficulties 
                here though late on in the movement. Bodorová’s Gila Rome 
                – Meditations for Solo Viola is barely six minutes long and means 
                Sing, Gypsy. She has made a study of Gypsy music and her 
                own complex national and geographical origins doubtless have some 
                significant bearing as well. Opening in a distant, inward mood 
                with distinctive gypsy melody the second movement is a fast and 
                dramatic embodiment of her marking Impetuoso and lasts 
                a whisker over a minute. The finale has about it a kind of keening 
                and an absolutely distinctive husky "speaking" quality 
                that hints at some unspoken narrative significance beyond its 
                immediate self. It’s appropriate in a bizarre sense I suppose 
                that this complex appreciation and absorption of gypsy or Roma 
                music should be followed by Monti’s generic Csárdás. 
                What Bodorová constructs in so veiled a way Monti has made 
                cod explicit but never mind, it makes for a link and provides 
                an opportunity for a virtuosic encore.  
              
 
              
I 
                have yet to mention the Martinů and Britten. In the Madrigals 
                she and Veronika Jarůšková make a good pairing, both tonally 
                and expressively. They are receptive and perceptive interpreters 
                and I liked the performance. Comparison with Jiři Novák and 
                Milan Škampa (Supraphon 1985) in this repertoire is, I suppose, 
                inevitable and readers will want to know how the younger pairing 
                bear up. As I said, well, but it’s incontestable that they are 
                just that fraction less incisive rhythmically and they vest the 
                music with less musical dynamics and colour. Heard in isolation 
                no one would be disappointed but if we are judging by the highest 
                standards – and Novák and Škampa are the peaks in this 
                kind of literature – the greater variety of tone production and 
                character and atmosphere of the veterans wins out every time. 
                The Britten is a harp-accompanied arrangement and Hosprová’s dexterity 
                is not in doubt. I listened for comparative purposes to a favourite 
                recording of mine made by her illustrious compatriot Josef Koďousek 
                and pianist Květa Novotná back in ’79. Hosprová is brisker 
                than Koďousek, more clear-eyed, virtuosic. In Kateřina 
                Englichová she has a resourceful partner and together theirs is 
                a valuable performance. What I miss is Koďousek’s eloquent 
                and expressive preparation for – and unfolding of – the finally 
                stated Dowland song and his half glints, colours, and sense of 
                rubato. Hers is a robust, youthful performance full of affirmation, 
                his more introspective and tinged with melancholy.  
              
 
              
Jonathan 
                Woolf 
              
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