At one point in Proust’s In Search of Lost Time, the narrator is listening to a sonata for piano and violin by the fictional Vinteuil, when “at a certain moment, without being able to distinguish any clear outline, or to give a name to what was pleasing him, suddenly enraptured, he tried to grasp the phrase or harmony – he did not know which – that had just been played and that had opened and expanded his soul”. Some suspect that the author might have had Franck’s Sonata for violin and piano in mind. The wistful opening is both haunting and ineffable, and the wisps of violin melody were beautifully caressed into life by Benjamin Beilman. What really impressed me was the 22-year-old violinist’s sense of the architecture of the piece: the climaxes were immaculately shaped. In the recitative at the opening of the third movement, he started out passionately, and dissolved to nothing in a way that was truly magical. Beilman is definitely one to watch out for: technically adept young players are legion, but artistic maturity of this calibre at such an early age is much rarer. The partnership with the experienced Lambert Orkis at the piano worked a treat, although the latter might have made the melody at the start of the second movement stand out a bit more from the surging figuration.
The final concert of the Musica Viva Festival continued with Ernst von Dohnányi’s Sextet, a marvellous work for piano, violin, viola, cello, horn and clarinet. The first two movements employ lush, late romantic harmonies; the third is more simple and lyrical; while the finale breaks into something akin to a hoe-down. The players embraced the emotional range of the work, the finale being delivered with especial gusto. When all was fortissimo, things had a tendency to lapse into indistinctness, but given my experiences at other times in the festival, this probably had more to do with the hall’s acoustic than any real misjudgement. In the second movement, there was a lovely play with sonorities in the exchanges between viola, clarinet and horn on the one hand, and the piano, pizzicato violin and cello on the other. The clarinet’s melody at the start of the third movement was also memorable. A special word of commendation is due to Ian Munro at the piano, who was unspectacularly excellent throughout, and exemplarily clear in his passagework (although he clearly missed out on the memo about the all-black dress-code, wearing instead a dissident white shirt). The drunken waltz near the end was simply hilarious, and Dohnányi’s final joke (seeming to end in D flat major, before undercutting it with a quick cadence in the correct key of C major) nearly caught out the enthusiastic audience.