Duo thrills with gypsy program
It’s no simple matter to disentangle the layers of ethnic interaction and appropriation at work in the strains of music that generations of European composers designated, whether explicitly or not, as “gypsy” music. Even the nomenclature is dicey — the term is now deprecated in favor of Roma, yet it lives on in the titles of concert staples by Ravel, Brahms and others.
But by whatever name, the folk melodies and instrumental sonorities of Hungary, Romania and other regions of Eastern Europe represent a key flavor in the classical repertoire. And they formed the basis for most of a superb recital on Wednesday, Dec. 12, by violinist Patricia Kopatchinskaja and pianist Polina Leschenko, presented in Herbst Theatre by San Francisco Performances.
For Kopatchinskaja, at least, this is partially native territory — she grew up in Moldova, with parents who were virtuosos of regional folk music. But her training is in classical and contemporary concert music, which she executes with enormous sophistication and technical bravura.
So Kopatchinskaja’s approach to music by Bartók, Ravel and especially the Romanian composer George Enescu proved to be wonderfully all-encompassing, a combination of subtle musicianship and earthy, explosive vigor. Leschenko, a pianist of remarkable vitality and elegance, made her a powerful collaborator.
These qualities surfaced most excitingly in Enescu’s Violin Sonata No. 3, a 1926 charmer whose subtitle proudly proclaims it a work “in the popular Romanian character.” That means a host of musical devices not generally heard in more Western-looking music — angular rhythms, briskly repeated notes suggestive of the hammer dulcimer, or individual notes delivered slightly flat or sharp relative to traditional Western tuning.
The effect is both eerie and entrancing, and Kopatchinskaja and Leschenko joined forces for a performance full of colorful energy. Both mournful ballads and vivacious dance textures seemed to bubble up through the sonata’s three movements.
Enescu knew these musical traditions at first hand, whereas Ravel, in composing the fiery virtuoso showcase “Tzigane,” was relying on the testimony of the Hungarian violinist Jelly d’Arányi for his musical materials. The result has the unmistakable whiff of armchair exoticism, based largely on secondhand notions of authenticity; still, Kopatchinskaja closed the program with a blazing account of the piece, full of tempestuous expressivity and bravura.
Before intermission, the program built gradually up to the thematic consistency of the second half, beginning with Poulenc’s magnificently broody Violin Sonata, which interweaves stretches of explosive writing with gorgeous, lyrical music-hall interludes, and continuing with Bartók’s gritty and provocative Violin Sonata No. 2.
In between came a brief, ingratiating palatecleanser — an encore up front — in the form of Clara Schumann’s tender “Romance.” The actual encore was “Rag-Gidon-Time,” Giya Kancheli’s brief and hilarious bauble for violinist Gidon Kremer.
Together, the two performers forged an affecting and often thrilling path through their program, in which Leschenko’s muscular, radiant playing served as a support for Kopatchinskaja’s more forward, bristling instrumental voice. May they return to the Bay Area again, and soon.