Released in
tandem with a disc devoted to oboe concertos this bassoon
disc makes for some fruitful conjunctions of style and mood.
Villa-Lobos’s Ciranda des sete notas was written
in 1933 and opens with an arresting call to arms and is
full of lyric episodes - curlicues and roulades as well.
But it saves the best for last – from about 7.05 there emerges
a cantilena of exquisite beauty that presages the quiet
and reflective ending. Only problems of programming this
eleven minute work could have held back its greater impression;
it’s a true charmer.
Hindemith, by
contrast, didn’t go in for charm of that sort though those
expecting his double concerto to be a dutiful, craggy exploration
couldn’t be further from the truth. Though they’re often
pitched together in a lot of unison writing the trumpet
and bassoon’s lines are full of telling incident and timbral
interest. No less in fact than the accompanying figures
– take a listen to the refulgent string lines in the opening
movement, warmly witty throughout. Though there’s some determined
writing in the compact slow movement there’s more sophisticated
wit in the pesante section of the succeeding Allegro,
where, from time to time the trumpet in this recording perhaps
inevitably overbalances the bassoon. The finale is the trumpet/bassoon
equivalent of the finale of the Barber Violin Concerto,
a super-quick (here 1.38) romp. This movement was the last
to be written, following the rest of the body of the concerto
three years later. As an envoi it works irresistibly well.
Jolivet’s 1954
Concerto is in four, classic baroque-type movements opening
with a Recitativo. Based though it is on the Sonata Chiesa
there are some jazz-inflected moments where the piano plays
its part, and where a degree of neo-classicism vies with
virtuosic runs for interest. The slow movement is especially
finely - chiselled by Jolivet – lyrical, cushioned accompanying
figures, with colourful parts for harp and piano, and the
bassoon occupying the middle of the texture. Finally there’s
the most recent of the quartet of compositions, Gubaidulina’s
Concerto. This was written in 1975 and is by some way the
longest of the works, lasting nearly half an hour. It employs
a panoply of gestures and then-contemporary sound worlds
– slithery strings, abrasion, pizzicato and slash, staccato
wring for the protagonist and thwacked accompanying string
figures. Much here is intriguing – from the rather metallic
evocations, the repeated figures that seem to act as an
obsessive element of the writing and the elusively quiet
monologue of the soloist. The eerie sonorities and the embedded
“laughter” she makes the bassoon evoke are all diverting
as well, though the opening movement is very much the longest
and tends formally to overbalance the work.
A contrasting
quartet then, loyally and persuasively performed, and well
presented.
Jonathan
Woolf
for
details 
Sergio Azzolini (bassoon)
