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EARLY MUSIC REVIEW
John Holloway Elizabeth Blumenstock
March 10, 2007
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The Violinist's Map of the German Baroque By Michael Zwiebach
The Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra's latest set, programmed and led by featured violinist John Holloway, offered a taster's menu of his career as a soloist and recording artist. Artfully put together, it illustrated (with one conspicuous, English exception) the way in which German Baroque composers amalgamated both Italian and French traditions into an original, cosmopolitan style that reached fruition in the music of J.S. Bach. The concert on Saturday night, at First Congregational Church in Berkeley, was far from faultless, the orchestra not always being in synch with the interpretive nuances that Holloway proposed. But when things jelled, the concert was exhilarating, as we tend to expect from Philharmonia.
The all-string-music evening began with a pedagogically inspired dip into the French Baroque, in the form of a minor overture and chaconne by Marc-Antoine Charpentier. With its dotted rhythms played with suitable swagger, though not overemphasized, this was a fine opener. It led, naturally, into two works with French connections.
First, we heard Heinrich Biber's Sonata VIII, from Fidicinium sacro-profanum (Sacred-profane violin music, with a Latin pun on Fidicinium, which also means "noise"), published in 1683. This piece cleverly masks its French dance influences behind neutral tempo designations and Italian sonata form. But you'll still hear an inverted dotted rhythm in the second movement, resembling a "Scotch snap," as well as plenty of other profane musical gestures, showing one reason why historians consider Biber to be an important forerunner of Bach.
In England at about the same time, John Blow completed what is generally regarded as the first English opera, Venus and Adonis, written for the Restoration court of Charles II, with its Francophilic tastes. The suite that Philharmonia performed began with an overture in the French style and then went on to give the First Act Tune, an English tradition. If these sounded stilted and unbending, the following set of dance tunes from the second act were much more satisfactory, especially the luscious "Saraband for the Graces."
Rounding out the first half was Georg Muffat's Sonata II, from Armonico tributo (Tribute in harmony, 1682). Here we have a piece, written as a farewell to Italy at the end of the composer's two-year stay there, which is in the style of Arcangelo Corelli's concertos. The sonata employs even more intense, emotional dissonance than Corelli used, punctuated by silences, for articulation. Strong emotion carries through the entire piece, despite the interspersed French dances. It displays a true merging of disparate styles, emphasized by the five-part string writing (a French influence), with double basses joining the orchestra for the first time in the concert. While Philharmonia's playing of it was uncoordinated in spots, the overall string sound made a powerful impression.
Bach finally arrived, post intermission, with his Concerto in D Minor for Two Violins, BWV 1043. Holloway was joined by Elizabeth Blumenstock, whose luminous playing was a match for his. Both have lift in their bowstrokes, making rhythms dance and head motives stand out. The entire performance was a joy, especially the second movement aria, which proved to be a showcase for Blumenstock's passionate lyricism and Holloway's gravitas. Bach's concertos were modeled on Vivaldi's work, which was represented by a Violin Concerto in G Major, RV 314, that Vivaldi dedicated to the great German violinist J.G. Pisendel (also a friend of Bach's). Holloway was the soloist in a reasonable performance. Yet his tone was unaccountably squeaky in some of the higher passages, and his playing at other times seemed mechanical and uninspired, in light of his work in the preceding Bach concerto. The program ended with a superlative reading of Francesco Geminiani's Concerto Grosso in D Minor, a reworking of a trio sonata by Corelli. Holloway and the orchestra were really on the same page here, producing a triumphant reading of the piece, which balanced pizzazz and emotional sensibility. What a pleasure it was to discover this masterpiece, as well as the Muffat and Biber works, on the same adventurous program.
(Michael Zwiebach holds a Ph.D. in music history from UC Berkeley.)
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