United Kingdom Dvořák, Smetana, Brahms: Lucy Crowe (soprano), Nash Ensemble (Alasdair Beatson [piano] Benjamin Nabarro & David Adams [violin], Lars Anders Tomter [viola], Adrian Brendel [cello]). Wigmore Hall, London, 14.10.2023. (CS)
Dvořák – Terzetto in C for two violins and viola, Op.74; Gypsy Songs for voice and piano, Op.55
Smetana – Evening Songs for voice and piano, T.124
Brahms – Piano Quintet in F minor, Op.34
The Nash Ensemble’s ten-concert series at Wigmore Hall this season is titled From My Homeland. With so many peoples currently being displaced from their homelands, it’s a title that feels culturally, geographically and politically relevant, in ways that are often uncomfortable, unsettling and disturbing. But, the Nash Ensemble are looking back, not sideways, to nineteenth- and twentieth-century Bohemia and Moravia, and considering how shifting borders affected governance, societies, language and culture. At this concert, works by Bedřich Smetana – raised as a German speaker but later a driving force for Czech nationalism – were heard alongside instrumental music and songs by Antonín Dvořák, whose musical ambitions forced him to balance the expectations of German and Austrian audience and music critics with his own Slavonic instincts and expression, when working in both Prague and the US. Brahms, a friend and mentor to Dvořák was represented by his Piano Quintet,
At the centre of the programme were vocal works by Dvořák and Smetana, and this seemed apt, song encapsulating the soulfulness of heimat. Accompanied by pianist Alasdair Beatson, soprano Lucy Crowe was the vocal soloist, and the colour, depth of expression, sensuality and sense of fun that she brought to Dvořák’s Op.55 Gypsy songs (Cigánské melodie) reminded me of her joyous embodiment of Janáček’s Vixen at the Barbican 2019, in a production directed by Peter Sellars and conducted by Sir Simon Rattle. Without undue theatrical and self-indulgence, Crowe brought these songs alive (though one might have wished for more vigour in her engagement with the text) and made them dance. Beatson was a superb dancing partner. One might have seen their duetting as a sort of vocal Strictly.
‘My song resounds’ was vivid and highly coloured, with a fine clarity of vocal line, with the piano jostling the voice with its motifs and growls. ‘Hey! Ring out my triangle’ was forthright, but there was tenderness in ‘All around the woods are silent’, the piano’s initial falling gestures gentle and subtle, with lovely rubato. The piano dynamic of the close was surprisingly intense: “Ten nezhynul, ten žije!”, Crowe asserted, and there was no doubt that this song would never fade. The stanzas of the well-known ‘Songs my mother taught me’ were pleasingly differentiated, creating an engaging narrative, while ‘Strike up! Come and join the dancing!’ was nimble of voice, fingers and metaphorical feet – Crowe’s crowning whoop was fittingly festive! I loved the earthy sensuousness of ‘The gypsy’s sleeves and trousers’ and the ‘openness’ of spirit encapsulated by the duo at the close of ‘When the hawk nests on the mountain heights. Adolf Heyduck’s poetry may not be first-rate but it speaks from the heart and our hearts were indeed touched here.
Smetana’s Večerní písně (Evening songs) perhaps express more simple sentiments. Certainly, the opening ‘He draws music from golden strings’ was pure and glowing, while the unison textures of ‘Do not stone the Prophets!’, and the gradual warming of timbre, pointed the message of the text. Crowe displayed a surprisingly robust and rich chest voice at the end of ‘I once dreamt: “I am so old”’, plunging low with impact. I thought that Beatson might jiggle off his piano stool in ‘Oh! What a joy it is to dance’ so vivacious was the piano part, while Crowe heightened the longing expressed in the text with pertinent dynamic strengthening and glossiness. There was exultation in the final song of the set, ‘I build you a throne of songs’, and, at the close, both a gleam and peacefulness.
The recital began with Dvořák’s Terzetto for two violins and viola, a work I don’t think I’ve heard before, but which was played here with a persuasive blend of colour and counterpoint. Lars Anders Tomter’s viola melody at the start of the ‘Introduzione’ was beautifully phrased and there was a gradual increase of intensity, building through the ‘Allegro’ to the passioned utterances of the ‘Larghetto’, as harmony and textual richness cohered expressively. I liked the rumbustiousness of the ’Scherzo’ with its rustic vibe, and the closing variations and ‘Adagio’ sustained the conversational interest and development.
Brahms’ Piano Quintet needs little introduction: written between 1862 and 1865, confident, ambitious, fertile and sometimes feverish, it represents the composer’s first maturing of expression, technique and voice. The members of the Nash Ensemble fully captured its dramatic, symphonic grandeur. The opening unisons of the Allegro ma no troppo (the latter gradation, perhaps Joachim’s perennial intrusion!) were precise and focused, and, when released, unleashed a tempest. There was tension during the development of material in the development, as well as intimacy in some of the inner dialogues. Theatre and delicacy were kept in judicious balance; individual voices spoke strongly. One sensed that every phrase and motif had been well-considered, but such was the majestic sweep there was no sense of fussiness. In the Andante, un poco Adagio, Beatson was very responsive to the string players and there was a lovely, prevailing give-and-take and spaciousness, though always forward momentum. The darkness which shadowed the central section invoked restlessness.
The Scherzo crept in – what a terrific way to catch the audience’s ear and create suspense, and to make the full theme sound richer still. After the warmth of the trio, the counterpoint of the reprise of the Scherzo seemed to balance on tiptoe. Diminished harmonies and restraint imbued the start of the Finale with mystery, and the ensemble made much of the structural tensions of the movement to create dynamism. They had the appreciative Wigmore Hall audience on the edge of their seats, their concentration never wavering, their adrenaline flowing. A very satisfying evening.
Claire Seymour