These four Polish sonatas span nearly a century. Stojowski’s big
three-movement work was written in 1895 when the composer was
twenty-five. It was dedicated to the international Lion of Polish
music, Paderewski, and premiered by the composer with Casals in
Paris in 1900. Curiously, according to H.L. Kirk’s mammoth biography
of the cellist, Paderewski was also in Paris. This was around
the time that the pianist planted himself in the front row at
a Casals recital and started hard at the Catalan for the entire
concert, later explaining that Casals was the “predestined figure”
in music.
The sonata is romantic and lyric, late-romantic
in orientation and expertly laid out. There are virtuoso moments,
though the first movement is too long and could have done with
some cogent pruning. The outburst of passion in the Andante
is attractive though perhaps somewhat diffuse and it’s really
only in the finale, often a problematic stumbling block, that
we feel something of the force of Stojowski’s best inspirations.
Certainly there’s something of a cosmopolitan feel to things
but at least the folkloric moments are embedded with great tact
and security. When Stojowski taps that source his muse is anything
but naïve.
Tansman lived much
of his life in the city that premiered the Stojowski. His own
Second Sonata was first performed by that prince of cellists,
Maurice Maréchal, with the composer taking the piano part. A
year later Casals played it with Horszowski, adding the earlier
Tansman sonata for good measure with Tansman once more doing
the considerable honours at the keyboard. Lilting and loosely
late-impressionistic this is a most engaging work. Its soul
resides in the central Largo, a chanson of delicious warmth
that rises to a ferment of passionate lyricism. The pizzicato-led
high spirits of the finale carry with them flecks of Parisian
dance bands and domiciled jazz. This concise work makes immediate
claims through its warmth and wit; inquisitive cellists could
do a lot worse than take a look at it.
The third of the
quartet is the much later sonata by Witold Szalonek, written
in 1958. This is a highly literate and articulate work imbued
with the ethos of the Second Viennese School. The martially
striding patterns and tintinabulism add variety and colour both
to its sound-world and its rhythmic profile. The slow movement
moves from powerful outbursts to tolling gravity in the piano
– and generates a certain see-sawing intimacy of expression.
The finale is rather doughty and the work ends on a quizzical,
unresolved questioning note – as if more is to be said but perhaps
not now. The final work is the extremely compact seven-minute
sonata by Jerzy Bauer. It’s clearly multi-partite despite its
brevity and manages to move from section to section with athleticism.
It was written for the composer’s son.
The Tansman is the
pick of this very disparate group though all the works offer
rewards in their individual ways. The balance between instruments
sometimes favours the piano; there are moments when Graham Jackson
covers Michał Dmochowski in the opening movement of the
Tansman for instance. Maybe too this could do with a faster
tempo – I remember a performance by Alexander Zagorinsky and
Alexei Shmitov that went at a considerably faster lick. But
the Dmochowski-Jackson team treats it well on its terms as it
does the other works. Their selection ranges widely and well.
Jonathan Woolf
Michał
Dmochowski (cello) 
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