San Francisco Classical Voice

Mozart's violin sonatas are more difficult than they appear, especially the later ones written in Vienna, where Mozart had to contend with potential concert hall performances. Whereas the early fiddle sonatas were intended mostly for home performance and simplicity — they were really piano sonatas with a violin tagging along — the Viennese sonatas were designed to impress larger audiences, and the violin is far more prominent than in the early works. In the case of K. 378, one is really hearing a duo concertante, something close to being a double concerto minus orchestra. Indeed, each musician is confronted with demands as difficult as any in Mozart's instrumental concertos.

Then, too, those late sonatas are filled with interpretive pitfalls. Expressive playing is required, especially in the slow movements, as is an appreciation for lightness and sparkle in the fast movements. The last is critical in Mozart's finales. If, however, either aspect is even a hair exaggerated, the result can be deadly. Most major violinists simply avoid them. That's why there are so few recordomgs of them, and those few are nearly always by Mozart specialists.

What the Khachatryan duo achieved was altogether exceptional. In addition to fine technique and balance, they played with excellent phrasing, with just a smidgen of rubato to emphasize cadences, or a little extra weight of bow and vibrato to bring forward a melodic peak. These touches never exceeded elegance of taste. One can, after all, kill such music by insisting on absolute literalism. Romanticism in Mozart, no; humanity, yes. Hearing it from such young musicians — the violinist was born in 1985 — who played with such mature understanding, was totally unexpected, and a wonderful surprise.

The Mozart notwithstanding, the peak of the evening came during Schumann's rather terse, intensely passionate A-Minor Sonata. It's so original that it seems newly minted. First, there is no proper slow movement among the three. The first, brooding movement is only moderately fast. Next comes a bright little intermezzo, almost fit for delighting children, à la Kinderszenen. Finally, a flashy perpetual motion serves as the finale. Each movement requires a different approach to expression, and this Khachatryan achieved to perfection. The Schumann First is a longtime favorite of mine, and I cannot say that I have ever heard it played quite so well, live or on disc.

Franck's only string sonata — there exist two early ones for piano — is even more of a concerto for two instruments. However, it could use a sabbatical from the recital orbit. There is a point at which a popular piece deteriorates into a cliché, and Franck's sonata sits on that dangerous edge. I might note that a number of people left the hall at intermission, just before the Franck. The row in front of me at this sold-out event ended up with a gap of eight empty seats. That's too bad, for those patrons missed a memorable and convincing performance. Khachatryan's playing reminded me of that of my adored Bronislaw Huberman. This young performer played the Franck in the old-fashioned, hell-bent-for-leather Romantic style that has not been fashionable since the 1940s. But after all, Franck isn't Mozart.

Everyone knows how a tune, or just a melodic phrase, can stick in the mind like a guest that stays on too long, going round and round in your head as you keep hoping it will leave you in peace. That happened to me with the finale of the Franck, which persisted into the next morning. Yet this illustrated the power of Khachatryan's ability to refresh and then tattoo the music onto my brain. The Khachatryan duo brought a serious majesty to the Franck that lifted it above its essentially stale status, which I would not have believed possible. It's been many a moon since I could enjoy the Franck that much. And it was the music that stood tall, not just the playing of it that mattered. The Khachatryans served rather than exploited Franck's well-known work.

The audience went into convulsive applause, which was deserved. As dessert, the duo offered two encores — including, of all things, a highly idiomatic performance of “It Ain't Necessarily So” from Gershwin's Porgy and Bess, plus a romanza-like piece by Piazzolla, Café 1930. Their musicianship clearly portends staying power for these two young Armenians.