Were a novelist to
set out to create the figure of a romantic
artist he or she might well come up
with someone who had more than a passing
resemblance to Norbert Burgmüller.
An unconventional upbringing; doomed
love affairs; epilepsy and other illness;
a bohemian life-style; excessive drinking;
a personality prone to melancholy; neglect
during his lifetime; an early death
in doubtful circumstances (he drowned,
but it is unclear whether he committed
suicide or suffered some kind of seizure);
Burgmüller ticks a great many of
the stereotypical boxes. Many music
historians later in the nineteenth century
dismissed him as nothing more than an
oddity; according to the influential
historian Fétis, writing in his
Biographie universelle des musiciens
(1860-65) he was "bizarre, an enemy
of the ways of the world, of social
convention and all restraint",
who "had nothing but contempt for
the distinguished works of previous
masters" and whose own work was
"listened to with more curiosity
than sympathy". The truth was more
complicated – and there was a great
deal more than ‘curiosity’ involved
in the tributes paid to Burgmüller
by Mendelssohn, Schumann and Brahms.
In 1986 Klaus Tischendorf published
a book entitled Norbert Burgmüller:
ein vergessener Romantiker.
Twenty years later, CDs such as this
excellent recital by Tobias Koch shows
that Burgmüller is not completely
forgotten. It complements other recordings
of Burgmüller’s Complete String
Quartets (MDG 3360993-4) and his
Piano Concerto and second Symphony -
which was completed by Schumann (MDG
33508172).
Written when its composer
was only sixteen, the Piano Sonata is
a remarkable piece, passionate and expressive.
It is not hard to see why Schumann called
it "an excellent piece" and
wrote of its opening movement that "while
a passion intensely beautiful and strong
pervades this movement, the poet appears
utterly in charge of his excitement,
so that it stirs the heart and simultaneously
calms it. The following movements carry
the same double characteristic of resignation
and life courage". That is exactly
right! There is a youthful intensity,
an almost feverish sensibility, in this
music. There is a subdued turbulence
and anxiety, even fear, which gives
an edge to all of the writing. The first
movement is perhaps more fully realised
than its successors, but the whole work
makes striking and moving listening.
Of the Rhapsodie, Brahms wrote to Clara
Schumann, on discovering it, that it
was "wondrous" and deeply
touching; Robert Schumann affirmed that
it "affects us like an apparition
from another world … I almost want to
compare it to the first impact of Goethe’s
Erlkönig". Again, one has
no difficulty in sharing such enthusiasm.
This is richly imaginative music, full
of fantasy but musically ‘correct’;
it is resonant with power and aspiration,
with spiritual yearning. The brief Waltz
has some unexpected harmonies and was
effectively rewritten – probably after
hearing Chopin on a visit to the Rhineland
– as the Mazurka; the Polonaise is an
attractive piece. But it is in the Sonata
and the Rhapsodie that one hears the
best and most distinctive of Burgmüller’s
writing for the keyboard. It is hard
to imagine more persuasive advocacy
for that music than in these recordings
by Tobias Koch. They are played on an
instrument of 1826 by Conrad Graf. Koch
himself writes that "Graf pianofortes
are famous for their silvery sound in
the higher range, a soft middle register
and a dark bass". Such tonal effects
are beautifully captured in the superb
recorded sound of this CD; Koch’s interpretation
of Burgmüller is a joy, utterly
sympathetic without ever being indulgent,
rhythmically very well considered, the
control of both tempo and dynamics perfectly
judged but functioning as aspects of
performances which convey a marvellous
sense of Burgmüller’s youthful
impetuosity.
Koch uses the same
instrument for his performance of a
piano transcription – made by who is
not clear – of the Marcia funebre
that Mendelssohn wrote on the occasion
of Burgmüller’s death. For the
remaining tracks on the CD, consisting
of music by Norbert Burgmüller’s
older brother Frédéric,
Koch switches to an instrument made
around 1835 by Ignaz Pleyel. Like the
Graf used on the earlier part of the
CD, this instrument is from the collection
held at Schloss Kremsegg in Austria;
both were formerly owned by Paul Badura-Skoda.
This instrument has far less variety
of timbre and register, but has an overall
smoothness of sound which is well suited
to the music of the older Burgmüller.
Frédéric – his name was
originally Friedrich but he changed
it on moving to France – settled in
Paris some two years before the death
of his brother; he seems to have been
able to make his way in society with
an easy self-confidence and certainty
which escaped his brother. He was much
in demand as a piano teacher. His output
as a keyboard composer ranges from didactic
pieces such as his Etudes to high-class
salon music and piano arrangements.
His music has a charm of its own, but
is entirely without the intensity of
Norbert’s work. The contrast between
the work of the two brothers contributes
– like the contrasting sounds of the
two instruments used – to the great
success of this splendid CD.
Tobias Koch plays the
music of both brothers with equal assurance,
different as their demands are. All
in all, this is a quite outstanding
CD. Norbert Burgmüller’s work is
fascinating both in itself and for its
place in musical history; performed
and recorded as exceptionally as it
is here, there is an almost revelatory
quality about the results.
Glyn Pursglove
for
details
Tobias Koch (piano) 
