Violin Concerto No. 1 in G minor, Op. 26
Max Bruch (1838-1920)
Vorspiel: Allegro moderato; Adagio; Finale: Allegro energico
Max Bruch enjoyed a charmed life until around 1900. He had been a child prodigy and, in adulthood, became a universally acclaimed composer and conductor. He occupied prestigious posts in several European countries, and was tempted to settle in England until the members of the Royal Philharmonic Society orchestra and choir complained that they couldn’t cope with his impenetrable German accent. The main contribution towards his glittering reputation was this violin concerto, the first of three but the only one to enjoy lasting recognition. It failed to satisfy its composer, however. Bruch revised it extensively. He was advised in this by the great virtuoso Joseph Joachim, who played the solo part at its triumphant première in 1868.
Bruch was regarded as the natural musical successor to Felix Mendelssohn, and there are hints of the earlier master in this work. The first movement opens with the soloist playing a leading role, as in the Mendelssohn concerto, and the first two movements are linked, which is another similarity. However, the title, Vorspiel (‘introduction’), suggests that the first movement is a preparation for the core of the concerto: the second movement. Perhaps the first does indeed finish earlier than one expects. Instead of reprising the initial musical material in the conventional manner, the music shifts key and slows down to melt into the slow movement: a sequence of three exceptionally attractive and memorable melodies, all couched within a lilting pulse. Again, this movement is reminiscent of Mendelssohn’s concerto. One can never tire of this music, whose simplicity and romanticism have captivated generations of listeners. That said, some critics have considered Bruch’s music to be a little too saccharin, too easy on the ear, one might say. The dark minor key that characterised the first movement is swept away in the last. G minor yields to G major and the soloist indulges in musical fireworks in a somewhat gypsy-like style. The final movement of Johannes Brahms’s violin concerto bears a resemblance to this, but not enough to have attracted analytical comment.
The concerto is a tour de force for composer and soloist. It is hardly surprising that for decades it was revered as one of the four great violin concertos, the others being those of Ludwig van Beethoven, Mendelssohn and Johannes Brahms. But fashions change. Not long after the turn of the 20th century Bruch’s music was being labelled passé, especially when compared to that of rising stars such as Paul Hindemith and Igor Stravinsky. To add to his woes, he had sold all the rights of this concerto to the original publisher, Simrock, for a paltry sum, and now felt compelled to sell his own hand-written copy of the score via friends in the USA, just to make ends meet. The chaos in Europe, arising from the First World War, exacerbated Bruch’s problems. Publishers failed to pay the royalties they owed and the American ‘friends’ kept the score instead of selling it. Bruch died almost penniless, ignored by so many of those who had worshiped his shadow only two decades earlier.
Max Bruch (1838-1920)
Vorspiel: Allegro moderato; Adagio; Finale: Allegro energico
Max Bruch enjoyed a charmed life until around 1900. He had been a child prodigy and, in adulthood, became a universally acclaimed composer and conductor. He occupied prestigious posts in several European countries, and was tempted to settle in England until the members of the Royal Philharmonic Society orchestra and choir complained that they couldn’t cope with his impenetrable German accent. The main contribution towards his glittering reputation was this violin concerto, the first of three but the only one to enjoy lasting recognition. It failed to satisfy its composer, however. Bruch revised it extensively. He was advised in this by the great virtuoso Joseph Joachim, who played the solo part at its triumphant première in 1868.
Bruch was regarded as the natural musical successor to Felix Mendelssohn, and there are hints of the earlier master in this work. The first movement opens with the soloist playing a leading role, as in the Mendelssohn concerto, and the first two movements are linked, which is another similarity. However, the title, Vorspiel (‘introduction’), suggests that the first movement is a preparation for the core of the concerto: the second movement. Perhaps the first does indeed finish earlier than one expects. Instead of reprising the initial musical material in the conventional manner, the music shifts key and slows down to melt into the slow movement: a sequence of three exceptionally attractive and memorable melodies, all couched within a lilting pulse. Again, this movement is reminiscent of Mendelssohn’s concerto. One can never tire of this music, whose simplicity and romanticism have captivated generations of listeners. That said, some critics have considered Bruch’s music to be a little too saccharin, too easy on the ear, one might say. The dark minor key that characterised the first movement is swept away in the last. G minor yields to G major and the soloist indulges in musical fireworks in a somewhat gypsy-like style. The final movement of Johannes Brahms’s violin concerto bears a resemblance to this, but not enough to have attracted analytical comment.
The concerto is a tour de force for composer and soloist. It is hardly surprising that for decades it was revered as one of the four great violin concertos, the others being those of Ludwig van Beethoven, Mendelssohn and Johannes Brahms. But fashions change. Not long after the turn of the 20th century Bruch’s music was being labelled passé, especially when compared to that of rising stars such as Paul Hindemith and Igor Stravinsky. To add to his woes, he had sold all the rights of this concerto to the original publisher, Simrock, for a paltry sum, and now felt compelled to sell his own hand-written copy of the score via friends in the USA, just to make ends meet. The chaos in Europe, arising from the First World War, exacerbated Bruch’s problems. Publishers failed to pay the royalties they owed and the American ‘friends’ kept the score instead of selling it. Bruch died almost penniless, ignored by so many of those who had worshiped his shadow only two decades earlier.