“La Dolce Vita” @ Chamber Music Society of Fort Worth
—Review by Gregory Sullivan Isaacs
On Saturday afternoon (October 22), in the elegantly stark surroundings of Fort Worth’s Modern Art Museum, the Chamber Music Society of Fort Worth presented a concert entitled “La Dolce Vita.” This is an Italian phrase used as the title of a ‘50s movie by Frederico Fellini, which means "the sweet life.” Considering that this was a concert almost completely made up of the serious music of Johannes Brahms, a more fitting name might have been: “Ein Leben voller romantischer Schärfe”—“a life of romantic poignancy.”
The Society gathered a stellar group of artists from far and wide, who presented one of the most satisfying chamber music concerts in memory. Although they played only this one concert, one might have guessed they’d been touring as a group for decades. The quality of their collective performance was not merely a matter of precision, which is expected, but of something more—a commonality of interpretation of the essence of Brahms’ music.
Italian Alessandro Deljavan was at the piano for the entire concert; I will save most of my comments about his astonishing performances for the end of this review.
The program opened with Brahms’ Sonata for Viola and Piano, Op.120, No.2. This autumnal work was originally written for clarinet. That instrument has three distinctive registers, each with its own sound. The richest of these is the lowest register (called the chalumeau), while the sound most associated with the instrument is the middle register (called the clarion). The highest register (called altissimo) has a thinner and more piercing sound. Violist and CMSFW regular Michael Klotz delivered a performance that in some ways matched the composer’s earlier clarinet conception of the piece; Klotz’s sound ranged from the rich lower tones of the violin to the upper resonance of the cello. In this regard, his sound has a slight but noticeable relationship to the three registers of the clarinet.
Klotz’ performance was straightforward for the most part, allowing him to lavish a rich romanticism on the moments that benefit the most from such treatment. An example was the lovely and noble melody in the trio of the Scherzo. He could have had more fun with the last movement, but paced the dynamics so that the ending packed its intended wallop.
The cello was up next with the composer’s Sonata No.1 in E minor for Cello and Piano, Op.38. Julian Schwarz, who serves on a number of prestigious faculties (Juilliard et al.), drew some absolutely gorgeous sounds out of his instrument in addition to his technical mastery of the work’s torturous last movement. Assertive, yet richly mellow—his sound is perfect for Brahms. The superb Deljavan was once again at the piano.
The two players began the sonata with a passionate yet slow tempo that, while always pressing forward, created a sense of the excitement to come. Even in the slower section of the movement, the restrained energy kept us hanging on every phrase.
In the second movement, we met another side of Brahms’ personality. Leaving all the seriousness behind, a jolly performance of a merry tune gave us all a smile. The last movement returned us to the Monumental Brahms. The performance was forceful with subtle forward motion throughout, but took time for reflection when needed.
The third piece of the afternoon was shorter, a so-called “widowed” movement, Brahms’ Sonatensatz [Sonata movement]: Scherzo in C minor from the “F -A- E” Sonata—which was “widowed” by never being performed, or indeed published, with its companion movements. It isn’t a short story, but an interesting one.
The famous violinist, Joseph Joachim, was a close friend of Brahms and other composers of the era including Robert Schumann. In 1853, the two composers hit on the idea of each writing one sonata movement as a gift for Joachim; they invited Schumann’s star student, Albert Dietrich, to write the third. Brahms’ Scherzo is the only movement of this “sonata by committee,” that remains intact. Schumann reworked his contribution, using it in another sonata. Brahms’ movement was published in 1908 by itself. The fate of Dietrich’s contribution is unknown.
At first glance, violinist Dylan Naroff’s youthful appearance gave the impression of a talented student invited to play with the big boys. We should have known: within moments of opening the Scherzo, this winner of the silver medal at the Fischoff National Chamber Music Competition had proved his mastery. Formerly with the Fort Worth Symphony Orchestra, Naroff is now, alas, with the orchestra of Pittsburgh.
Naroff dug into the opening fanfare-like passage with brilliance and passion. His reading was full of energy and rubato, while Deljavan kept driving the pulse underneath. The contrasting Trio section showed us the opposite side of Naroff’s playing as he spun out a lovely tune. When he repeated the opening fast section, it was not just a repeat. He added some additional urgency and drive to end with a very Brahms-ian nobility.
After all this gravitas, the concert presented Sarasate’s “Navarra,” an amuse-bouche for two violins and orchestra (here played in a piano reduction).
Most exceptional virtuosi who write music for their own performance fill it with showy technical fireworks. This particular piece trots out most of them: harmonics, double and triple stops, tremolandi, left-hand pizzicati, passages at the very top of the fingerboard, and even a duo cadenza. The unusual left-hand pizzicati effect brought the sound of a guitar to the atmosphere in this tribute to Spain. The two smokin’ violinists (Naroff and CMSFW founder Gary Levinson) clearly enjoyed this technical playoff and ... it was a tie.
After intermission, the program concluded spectaculary with one of the masterpieces of the chamber music repertoire, Brahms’ Quintet for Piano and Strings in F minor, Op.34. It is a radiant work, but tinged with tragedy. It is also long, with multiple divisions within its basically four-movement structure. The performance was excellent from start to finish. I can’t remember when I’ve heard it played better than it was here—and its particular brilliance was partially due to the way the string players didn’t match up. Let me explain.
Frequently, as Brahms tosses themes and motives among the instruments, it is difficult to really follow who is playing what. However, here each of the string players had a unique sound that was noticeably different from the others. Levinson’s brashly beautiful Stradivarius contrasted with Naroff’s less assertive sound. Schwartz’s deep and resonant cello grounded the sound, yet he never overpowered.
An important element of the Quintet’s excellence was the sound produced by violist Michael Klotz, which sat right in the middle like a bridge. It has a more restrained version of the violin’s brilliance and descends to an almost cello-like sonority. This allowed the listener to hear all of Brahms’ clever weaving together of the four string instruments. Along the same line, the dynamic and interpretational independence of Deljavan’s hands (not a skill mastered by all concert pianists) allowed us yet another chance to follow the separate and interwoven lines of Brahm’s composition.
Alessandro Deljavan was a child prodigy who played his first recital at the almost unbelievable age of three. We first became aware of him in Fort Worth when he competed in the 2009 and 2013 Cliburn International Piano Competitions. He is too original and unique a pianist to win such an event. But he won the fervent admiration of the Cliburn audiences and astonished the critics (especially this one). Fortunately for us, he is frequently invited back to the area; this is his third appearance with the CMSFW.
It is a fact that the stability of a stack of cannon balls is dictated by the layout of the first level. So it is with chamber music that uses the piano. As the musical underpinning in this performance of Brahms’ dark masterpiece, (the bottom layer, as it were), Deljavan subtly established the shape of the entire performance. He kept it moving forward toward its final destination, bridged the transitions, offered support where it was needed, and stepped back when that was more appropriate. Taking nothing away from the excellence of all the players, it was Deljavan’s grounding that gave the Quintet such extraordinary impact.
