It was a deceptively simple set-up – a two-part programme of Beethoven and Prokofiev – yet the evening proved anything but ordinary. The young Spanish violinist Maria Dueñas delivered a sensational performance of Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, her poised artistry and luminous tone captivating from the first phrase. From the opening broken octaves she elicited a silky, suave lyricism from her instrument – a noble Stradavari. Dueñas is a highly expressive player, imbuing each note with a ravishing vibrato and luxuriating in every detail of the score. Not for her, the breakneck speed of showy virtuosity; rather she favoured a thoughtful, introspective exploration of this first great Romantic violin concerto.
Conductor Hans Graf and the National Symphony Orchestra provided wonderfully sensitive support, shaping the orchestral line with a noble and unforced sweep. As the music made the luminous transition into the minor, Graf brought a majestic dignity to its long phrases, allowing the dialogue between soloist and orchestra to breathe naturally.
Just as we were transported by these delights, there came an unexpected moment of drama. With a light ping, one of Dueñas’ strings snapped! It must be every soloist’s worse nightmare. With a brief, calm word of explanation, she left the stage, swiftly returning, composed and smiling. She resumed as if nothing had happened; it took the audience a little longer to recover its collective composure.
Very impressively, Dueñas performed her own cadenzas for all three movements. Technically demanding though they were, their purpose was more musical than virtuosic. The double-stops and arpeggios cleverly wove in earlier motifs, creating a satisfying sense of unity. Dueñas filled the Larghetto with a hushed pianissmo, caressing each phrase with loving care. Her tone glowed from within, never forced, never sentimental The final Rondo sparkled with angelic purity, its radiant tone floating above Graf’s more earthy, rhythmically robust orchestral textures. Even in the exciting moments of mercurial key changes or the virtuosic filigree in the cadenza, Dueñas’ playing remained elegant and unflustered, quite a remarkable approach from so young an artist.
After the interval, the mood shifted from Beethoven’s serenity to the turbulent drama of Prokofiev’s much-loved ballet Romeo and Juliet. The introduction sounded as ominous and as overwhelming as the fabled trumpet call in the book of the Apocalypse, the strings sustaining a ghostly unease. Soon the punchy, swaggering rhythms of the famous Montagues and Capulets theme dispelled the miasma of earlier gloom, Graf keeping tight control over the orchestra’s power. The stomping of brass gave way to the glowing otherworldly melody of the mid-section. In Young Juliet it was easy to imagine the young protagonist flitting playfully through the texture, while tender strings and mellow horn lines captured Friar Laurence’s quiet wisdom.
The NSO brought a buoyant energy to the Dance, their bright articulation contrasting with the impassioned strings and sorrowful outburst of Romeo at Juliet’s Tomb. Here the savage cuts on the violins, the blaring dissonances on the brass and the sobbing triplets intensified this mood of heartbreak and despair. Graf’s selection closed with The Death of Tybalt, its seething strings, blasting brass and timpani gunfire driving the work to a shattering conclusion.
It was a concert that moved effortlessly from serenity to storm — and at its centre, a soloist whose maturity continues to astonish.