Violin Concerto in D minor, Op. 47
Jean Sibelius (1865-1957)
Allegro moderato; Adagio di molto; Allegro ma non tanto
The birth-pangs of this concerto are painful to recall. Not only did Jean Sibelius choose to rewrite the work after a calamitous first performance, a number of soloists dropped out and critics were hostile. In 1936, 32 years after the first performance, the distinguished music critic, Sir Donald Tovey, wrote:
Perhaps the Violin Concerto of Sibelius has not yet had time to become popular; but I can see no reason why it should not soon take place with the Violin Concerto of Felix Mendelssohn and the G minor Concerto of Max Bruch as one of the three most attractive concertos ever written.
That turned out to be prophetic because the Sibelius concerto is now a popular work. But notice how Tovey compares it to Mendelssohn and Bruch, not to Ludwig van Beethoven or Johannes Brahms. The violin concertos of those two giants he regarded as being in a different and higher league – something a bit more than ‘attractive’. Others do not necessarily agree. Many cognoscenti now consider the Sibelius Violin Concerto to be among the best ever.
Concert-goers are often dazzled by the sheer virtuosity of the solo part, so skilfully crafted by a composer who had been professional violinist. They are also enchanted by the ‘Sibelian fingerprints’. As with most of the symphonies and the symphonic poem Finlandia, the voice of Sibelius shines unmistakeably, and over the years it has become synonymous with Finland. It seems, almost, that Finland is Sibelius and Sibelius is Finland.
As with so many great concertos, the meat of the work is found in a long first movement. The themes unfold clearly, and in ways that are somewhat different from those in the symphonies, where thematic fragments and motifs are offered at the outset, their full potential being realised later, often in triumphant style. It is apparent that Sibelius rejected that musical device in this, his only concerto, because snippets of tunes and musical ideas do not marry well with the heroic role of a soloist. Instead, the compelling melodies are presented in full at the outset, and the listener can follow the emotional flow and the musical argument with ease and pleasure. The broad paragraphs of the slow movement evoke similar responses to those of the first movement but the finale is more exuberant. It creates joy and warmth without a trace of banality. Tovey described it a polonaise for polar bears. The minor mode is cast aside in favour of the major, and the music’s high spirits and spanking pace whisk the listener to a splendid and delightful conclusion.
Jean Sibelius (1865-1957)
Allegro moderato; Adagio di molto; Allegro ma non tanto
The birth-pangs of this concerto are painful to recall. Not only did Jean Sibelius choose to rewrite the work after a calamitous first performance, a number of soloists dropped out and critics were hostile. In 1936, 32 years after the first performance, the distinguished music critic, Sir Donald Tovey, wrote:
Perhaps the Violin Concerto of Sibelius has not yet had time to become popular; but I can see no reason why it should not soon take place with the Violin Concerto of Felix Mendelssohn and the G minor Concerto of Max Bruch as one of the three most attractive concertos ever written.
That turned out to be prophetic because the Sibelius concerto is now a popular work. But notice how Tovey compares it to Mendelssohn and Bruch, not to Ludwig van Beethoven or Johannes Brahms. The violin concertos of those two giants he regarded as being in a different and higher league – something a bit more than ‘attractive’. Others do not necessarily agree. Many cognoscenti now consider the Sibelius Violin Concerto to be among the best ever.
Concert-goers are often dazzled by the sheer virtuosity of the solo part, so skilfully crafted by a composer who had been professional violinist. They are also enchanted by the ‘Sibelian fingerprints’. As with most of the symphonies and the symphonic poem Finlandia, the voice of Sibelius shines unmistakeably, and over the years it has become synonymous with Finland. It seems, almost, that Finland is Sibelius and Sibelius is Finland.
As with so many great concertos, the meat of the work is found in a long first movement. The themes unfold clearly, and in ways that are somewhat different from those in the symphonies, where thematic fragments and motifs are offered at the outset, their full potential being realised later, often in triumphant style. It is apparent that Sibelius rejected that musical device in this, his only concerto, because snippets of tunes and musical ideas do not marry well with the heroic role of a soloist. Instead, the compelling melodies are presented in full at the outset, and the listener can follow the emotional flow and the musical argument with ease and pleasure. The broad paragraphs of the slow movement evoke similar responses to those of the first movement but the finale is more exuberant. It creates joy and warmth without a trace of banality. Tovey described it a polonaise for polar bears. The minor mode is cast aside in favour of the major, and the music’s high spirits and spanking pace whisk the listener to a splendid and delightful conclusion.