Catherine Manoukian's violin playing is a recent delightful
discovery for me. Her disc of the
Elgar Violin Concerto proved to be one of the most
compelling and persuasive versions of recent years. My particular pleasure
is that her performance aesthetic seems to hark back to an earlier time;
there is no sense of artifice or affectation and in the most complimentary
of ways I find her playing to be 'old-school'. This bears on
her technique as well as her approach to the musical interpretation.
The three Brahms violin sonatas are perfect vehicles for this Romantic and
passionate approach and so it proves here; this is a rather special disc.
Fortunately for Manoukian, she has found in her pianist colleague Gunilla
Süssmann an ideal collaborator and has been given by the Berlin Classics
production team a rich and full recording wholly appropriate for her
interpretations. With works so central to the violin repertoire there are a
host of fine alternatives. I compared Manoukian to two of my most favourite
players, Josef Suk with Julius Katchen on Decca - a justly famous set - and
Aaron Rosand with Hugh Sung on Vox. To be honest I would not want to be
without either of those very fine sets, but having heard Manoukian all I can
say is that her performances can stand alongside either with ease.
Interestingly, Suk and Manoukian were a similar age when their
performances were recorded; Suk 38 back in 1967 and Manoukian 33 with
Rosand, a patrician 75. This
does seem to impact on the performance
styles and even though all three favour fairly steady reflective tempi for
the opening of the First Sonata Op.78 — the adjacent opus to the Violin
Concerto — it is Rosand who finds an extra degree of backward-looking regret
and nostalgic poignancy. Broadly speaking Manoukian favours the greatest
extremes of Romantic expression whilst Suk prefers a more contained
'classical' approach. Drama is another keyword I would apply
to Manoukian: she is not afraid to a bend a musical phrase well away from
its written form on the page. Her success is managing to make these
carefully considered choices - as evidenced by the perfect accord with the
piano - sound spontaneous and fresh. It will be for collectors to decide
whether this interventionist approach will appeal to them for repeated
listening. All I can say is that it works for me. As mentioned earlier,
Gunilla Süssmann proves an excellent collaborator - in these major complex
works the word accompanist seems too peripheral. This is big-boned dramatic
playing - try the opening of the 2nd Sonata, on this current disc the
opening
allegro amabile develops into a powerfully exciting ardent
movement. Katchen's piano, much more recessed on the sound-stage and
less fully recorded is not able to impose itself on the music as strikingly
and the old Decca recording does start to show its age. Both Suk and Katchen
are masters of the nuanced musical phrase; painting in watercolours compared
to Manoukian and Süssmann's large-scale oil canvas.
It is important to remember that all three of the sonatas and the second
and third in particular are products of Brahms' late period of
chamber music masterpieces. There
is a wisdom evidenced in every
bar not just about the craft of writing music but of life in general. This
is where I find Rosand's hugely poised yet profoundly humane approach
pays great dividends. So it is to Manoukian's enormous credit that I
find her performance of the late 3rd Sonata to be the best of all. There
seems to be the ideal balance between impulsive spontaneity and rapt
reflection. Her technique is fully up to Brahms' sometimes awkward
writing. My highlight of the entire disc is her reading of the second
movement Adagio (track 8). This crystallises her entire approach - a
gloriously rich tone aided by Süssmann's perfectly paced and voiced
chords, passionate yet held and with little technical touches that place her
firmly in an earlier age of playing. Fingering is a very personal thing for
string players; what works and feels comfortable technically and musically
for one will be a minefield for another. Manoukian often shifts on the same
finger which produces a small expressive slide or portamento. Many modern
players prefer absolute clarity when changing position but I adore the extra
emotional 'weight' that a tasteful applied slide - as here -
can bring. If you need any proof that this is an expressive tool, listen to
the very next movement; as crisply and cleanly played
un poco
presto as one could ever hear. Rosand is more mercurial in the closing
presto agitato - he's not helped by less than wonderful
engineering - and in his seventies even though he plays at a fractionally
faster basic tempo than Manoukian he does not have the sheer muscular power
that the younger player does. This allows Manoukian to be theatrically
dramatic from stormy passage work to swooning lyrical interludes. All in all
this movement seems to be a summation of the triptych of sonatas and a
fittingly exhilarating and life-affirming piece of music. The disc closes
with a nice bonus in the form of the scherzo Brahms contributed to the joint
F-A-E sonata in 1853 - the other movements being written by Robert Schumann
and Albert Dietrich. This is not music that aspires to the grandeur of the
'main' sonatas so inevitably there is something of an
anti-climax coming as it does after the superb performance of the Op.108.
Neither Rosand nor Suk offer any coupling and not surprisingly Manoukian and
Süssmann pitch an ideally dynamic and fleet interpretation.
Take the generous playing time, add an attractive booklet well printed on
high quality paper in German and English only, with interesting articles by
Ulf Brenken well translated and it is clear this is a very high quality
production indeed. I find it all but impossible to say that any single
performance of core repertoire supersedes all others but suffice to say that
this disc is worthy of consideration with the very best. Any admirers of
fine violin playing owe it to themselves to familiarise themselves with
Catherine Manoukian's work.
Nick Barnard