Mendelssohn Bartholdy: Violinkonzert e-Moll / Karen Gomyo / Pietari Inkinen / DRP

Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy ∙ Concerto for Violin and Orchestra in E minor, Op. 64

00:30 - Allegro molto appassionato
14:28 - Andante
22:50 - Allegretto non troppo – Allegro molto vivace

German Radio Philharmonic Orchestra
Pietari Inkinen, Conductor
Karen Gomyo, Violin

Saarbrücken Congress Hall ∙ Sunday, September 15, 2019

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The creation of Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy's famous Violin Concerto in E minor is closely linked to Ferdinand David, a childhood friend of the composer. The two musicians met in Berlin in 1825; Felix was just 16 years old, Ferdinand a year younger and, as a violin prodigy, on a concert tour. When Mendelssohn became music director in Leipzig ten years later, he appointed his friend concertmaster of the Gewandhaus Orchestra, and of course, the violinist also taught at the Leipzig Conservatory, which Mendelssohn directed. In a letter from 1838, Mendelssohn wrote to David that there aren't many musicians like you, and that, after all, I couldn't imagine another with whom I would be so in agreement in art. On the same occasion, he also announced the Violin Concerto in E minor.
David had to wait until 1844 for its completion, but in return he received a highly original work that surprised with its new formal solutions. The first movement of a concerto usually begins with a "double exposition": before the first solo passage, there is a longer orchestral introduction that introduces at least part of the thematic material. However, here (as in his subsequent concertos) Mendelssohn dispensed with the "first tutti"; The soloist enters with the main theme in the second bar. Mendelssohn's early sketches reveal that he revised this opening several times. He spent a long time refining the melodic and rhythmic contours until the original inspiration gave rise to the striking main theme, which, according to our auditory impression, can only sound this way and no other.
Mendelssohn also found an unusual introduction for the quiet second theme: It is first presented by flutes and clarinets, while the solo violin plays a pedal point on the open G string, i.e., a long-held note to the alternating harmonies of the other voices. Also striking is the structure and position of the solo cadenza: traditionally, it was elaborated or improvised by the soloist according to his or her own taste. It was placed at the end of the movement—a mere appendage with no other function than to display virtuosity. It was introduced with a quartal-sixth chord, concluded by a long trill from the soloist, which thus signaled the beginning and end, as well as the harsh cuts between the orchestral tutti and the unaccompanied solo. Rather, the sections overlap, and the soloist's arpeggios serve as a kind of hinge. They introduce the unaccompanied section, initially supported by the orchestra, and end it in an unusual way: the virtuoso playing figures suddenly transform into an accompaniment to the opening theme, which is now performed by the orchestra.
Mendelssohn has one final surprise in store at the end of the movement: after the final chord, the first bassoon lets its note ring out into the expected pause. The movements thus flow into one another – an unusual measure in an era when it was still quite commonplace to repeat individual movements at the audience's request. But it was precisely the then-common, "mood-killing" clapping during the pauses that Mendelssohn wanted to prevent. That's why he let the second movement, a C major Andante in three-part song form, lead into the finale without a break. Here he even dedicated a separate passage of fourteen bars with independent thematic material to the transition. This is followed by a rapid rondo full of playful wit and sophisticated sound effects. With its springy lightness, this final movement evokes a fairy haunting, a magical world similar to that conjured up in the famous Midsummer Night's Dream Overture. Ferdinand David performed the work for the first time in Leipzig on March 13, 1845. The composer was unable to attend, but learned from a letter from the violinist: [The violin concerto] was extremely well received; it was unanimously declared to be one of the most beautiful pieces in this genre; but it also fulfills all the demands placed on a concert piece, and violinists, too, cannot be grateful enough for this gift. This assessment has not changed to this day.