Chopin’s cello sonata
Op. 65 is one of his late works, given
its première in Paris on 16 February
1848 by the composer and the work’s
dedicatee, Auguste-Joseph Franchomme.
Somewhat neglected in the past, it nonetheless
stands comparison with other romantic
works on a similar scale. The minor
tonality defines this sonata’s sense
of almost melancholic yearning, and
even the D major passages in the second
Scherzo movement are filled with
major/minor relationships which tug
at the listener’s heartstrings. The
mood is ‘centred’ in the third Largo
movement, with Chopin allowing the
melodic line to be sung by both cello
and piano, turning it into an imploring,
rhapsodic conversation – not so much
between two equal partners, as by a
single person regarding themselves in
a dusty mirror. The more substantial
outer movements are a feast of melodic
invention, and of course have richly
filled piano parts. Bengtsson and Kavtaradze
play out of their skins in the Allegro
Finale, ensuring that Chopin’s
musical message is emphatically planted
into our consciousness.
From the outset, Grieg’s
Sonata Op. 36 is filled with restless
energy and passion. The piece was written
for and is dedicated to the composer’s
brother John, who must have had a considerable
talent, despite choosing their father’s
business over a musical career. Perhaps
some of the turbulence of their relationship,
or of John’s character rubbed off onto
the music – John is known to have started
an affair with Edvard’s wife Nina, and
committed suicide in 1901. Whatever
the background, the first movement is
one of the most passionate Grieg ever
composed, concluding with the opening
theme of the famous Piano Concerto,
almost as an afterthought. The second
movement carries on with a different
quote, this time from Grieg’s ‘March
of Allegiance’ from the incidental music
to ‘Sigurd Jorsalfar’. This theme is
developed out of all recognition, becoming
a full-blown romantic movement which
goes far beyond its simple Andante
marking. In the final Allegro
Grieg once again draws on a number
of his own famous themes, but familiarity
does not breed contempt here – Grieg
was self-critical enough to hold back
from mere reproduction of earlier triumphs,
and it is fascinating to hear how he
plays with his own material, pushing
and pulling it through all kinds of
hoops in order to create a(n almost)
cohesive whole.
Erling Blöndal
Bengtsson’s cello playing is expressive,
impassioned and gently restrained by
turns, always sympathetic to the music
and impeccably intonated and articulated.
The recording gives a good balance between
the cello and Nina Kavtaradze’s excellent
piano playing, which is placed in such
a way as to avoid the cello being swamped
by both composers’ richly pianistic
accompaniments. Full marks to Danacord
for keeping this repertoire alive and
most certainly ‘kicking’ in all senses
of the word – highly recommended.
Dominy Clements
Erling Blöndal Bengtsson (cello) 
