Only a real enthusiast for the violin will now remember the name
Joan (sometimes Juan) Manén. The Spanish fiddle player enjoyed an
eminence that time and the inevitable erosion of reputations has done much
to efface. Yet this was the man that Henry Wood likened to a Goya -
admittedly it was probably the beard - and whose compositions encouraged
some to call him the ‘Spanish Richard Strauss’. Hard-core
collectors will remember that Manén made the first-ever uncut
recording of the Beethoven Violin Concerto.
It’s not his playing that is under scrutiny here, but his
flair as a composer. This is the first volume in a series of his works for
violin and piano. He did study composition but strangely his father forbade
him from learning harmony. He wrote over eighty works in all genres
including five operas, symphonic works, concertos, piano pieces, sardanas
and works for chorus.
Given his country of origin and his time and place, one might
imagine his virtuosic writing for the violin to be predicated on, or at
least strongly influenced by the figure of Sarasate who was still very
active as a performer when Manén was in his twenties. To an extent
this is true. The executant-performer was still very much part of the fabric
of concert life - Kreisler is the most obvious example, and he was
Manén’s senor by only eight years. Yet it’s clear that
Manén had a sense of his own self. The
Danza ibérica
No.2 is very self-confident and full of caprice. It owes something to
Sarasate in its sense of virtuoso flourish but I don’t think Sarasate
was ever quite this sensual - Manén’s B section is really ripe
in this respect.
Manén lived for a number of years in Berlin, where he made a
series of acoustic recordings. The German element is certainly present in
the harmonic slant of the
Balada where the harmonies are quite dense
and one is indeed slightly reminded of Strauss in the slow introductory
passage. The
Petite suite espagnole is a very early work, and full of
easy grace and no particular ambition. It would make for a genial piece of
programming as was doubtless the intention of the sixteen-year-old
Manén.
Danza ibérica No.3 was dedicated posthumously to
Sarasate and it craftily embeds a bit of the great Master’s
Aragonesa, Op.27 along with salon-style warmth in the B section which
leads on to the fast final paragraphs in established fashion. Conventional,
perhaps, but well laid out.
Manén recorded several of his own pieces and one of these was
the
Chanson. Naturally Kalina Macuta doesn’t replicate his
battery of slides, finger position changes and slowish vibrato, all of which
add significant personalisation to his recordings, albeit, specifically with
regard to tonal production, even then of a rather anachronistic kind. But
she gets the birdsong pirouettes at the end just right. The
Five Spanish
melodies are essentially free harmonisations, and include flamenco, a
traditional Basque dance, and a
Zortzico which sounds a bit tame, and
maybe owes a bit to Kreisler.
These persuasive performances make a good case for
Manén’s music. I’ve not mentioned pianist Daniel Blanch
thus far but he plays a full part in the disc’s success and forms a
deft duo with Macuta. It is worth sifting in a disc of this kind, as some of
the pieces are more viable than others in terms of programming, and
listening. Much here is largely unknown and it’s always very agreeable
to encounter things for the first time. There’s a useful booklet too.
Perhaps the foundation devoted to the violinist would consider releasing
Manén’s 78s as an important appendix to this unfolding series?
Jonathan Woolf
