CD Review: Brahms & Franck Violin Sonatas, Qian Yin in Review
Qian Yin, violin; Po-Chuan Chiang, piano
Recorded June 18 and 21, 2018, at Foellinger Great Hall, Krannert Center for the Performing Arts,
University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign
Kevin Bourassa, Producer; Sam Gingher and Kevin Bourassa, Recording Engineers; Russell Baker, Editor
Dr. Gary Lemco, Program Notes
MSR Classics: 2022 release
A 2022 debut release of a recording of the violinist Qian Yin with pianist Po-Chuan Chiang landed in my review assignments this week, and it was a joy to find that there are simply two works on it, the Sonata in G major, Op. 78, of Johannes Brahms and the Sonata in A major of Cesar Franck, both slices of nineteenth-century musical heaven. For the repertoire pairing alone, a collector might want this CD, but the performers proved to be excellent as well, and the recorded sound has the listener feeling almost present in the room.
Some might ask, “Why do we need yet another Franck or Brahms Sonata recording?” but my feeling is “the more the merrier.” The dreaded day when violin-piano duos stop sharing their passion and energy for such masterpieces would be a sad day indeed – and amazingly, many people on this planet have not heard these pieces even once. Though I am fond of renditions of Perlman, Zuckerman, Heifetz, Dumay, and many others, there are as many interpretations of this music as there are musicians – each with a different sound, different balance between players, different pacing, and different feeling. Beyond interpretation, there is the necessity for living artists to keep the living aspect of a piece of music alive, as one can feel during an “in the moment” realization; sadly this is less the case with a CD than in live performance, but this recording certainly whets one’s appetite to hear the Qian Yin/Po-Chuan Chiang duo play it in concert.
This duo’s Brahms “had me at hello.” From the very first notes, they pulled me into its nostalgic spirit, something that is not so easy with music of such depth – and with no introductory works to warm up the listener’s ears. Dr. Yin and Dr. Chiang capture its indescribable mixture of comforting warmth and bittersweetness immediately, and one is reminded why Clara Schumann, who played it with the great violinist Joseph Joachim (on the late Robert Schumann’s birthday no less) wrote a letter to Brahms saying, “I wish that the last movement could accompany me in my journey from here to the next world.” (To me it is all there in the first movement, but vive la difference!)
Dr. Yin’s playing in the Brahms has a mellow sweetness of timbre that is truly special. Her ensemble with Dr. Chiang is precisely together, and her intonation is always sure. It is a special joy to hear how seemingly effortlessly she navigates its more challenging aspects, because even in these days of technical firebrands, many players still have squawks and screeches here and there in such a piece. Nothing can ruin a Brahmsian spell like such sounds of strain, but there was no such issue here.
Incidentally, Dr. Yin plays an Italian Stefano Scrampella violin from the year 1830 with a French Violin Bow by Alfred Lamy from the year 1920, courtesy of the Guadagnini Violin Shop in Chicago. One is reminded here of the story of a legendary violinist, who when receiving praise for the sound of his instrument held it up to his ear saying, “funny, I don’t hear anything” – because naturally it is the violinist who deserves the praise – but a fine instrument and bow can certainly help!
Recording-wise, the violin is clearly front and center throughout, almost as if recorded in a separate room from the piano (except with excellent synchronization). Though it has been said that the violin always leads in this piece, I disagree with such extremes, so a minor quibble I had was that I didn’t hear a fuller piano part. A listener wants to imagine the duo close enough to react to each breath and twitch of an eyelash. Dr. Chiang is an excellent pianist so this comment is merely to say (to the recording engineers and editor?) that one wanted to hear more of him – and also to know that the violinist was responding to him, not merely being superbly accompanied. The piano sound itself sometimes verged on a distant glassiness where one wanted richness, and even, for example, where the piano has the melody and the violin has just accompanying sixths and sevenths (for example, m. 29) there was room for more piano sound to lend the interpretation a spirit of true collaboration. That comment may betray this listener’s pianocentric perspective, but then again, Brahms was also a pianist. All in all, the Qian-Chiang version is a compelling one, so reservations are fairly minor. (On a side note, I loved that the violinist is not afraid of an occasional slide, such as a delicious one at m. 172 – though nothing here is overdone ever.)
The Adagio movement of the Brahms is soulfully played as well. The beginning of it is hard in terms of establishing a measured nobility without woodenness – and at first this performance seems in danger of being metrically stiff – but it thaws beautifully as it develops. Again one wants a bit more bass in the piano part (m. 111 as an example) for the burnished Brahmsian glow to emerge.
The third and final movement, Allegro molto moderato, finds the pianist emerging in a more formidable role. Dr. Chiang is admirably precise and reliable – flawless really – and the violinist is so dazzling at times (m. 106 as just one example) that one almost laughs in amazement. My main quibble in this movement is that when the piano has a special look back at the opening theme from the slow movement (the Adagio‘s E-flat major now in G major – m. 142) the violin still overpowers the piano. The piano needs its turn.
Perhaps this little seed of objection planted itself in my mind to subsequently dull my enjoyment of the Franck Sonata, but the tone of violin part seems also noticeably different in the Franck. One becomes more aware of an edge to the sound that one doesn’t hear in the Brahms. One analysis is that there may be such focus on each tone that the listener after a point starts to feel strain from it – and the other possibility is that the violinist is the one who, perhaps through the absence of relaxing, is actually developing more of an edginess to the sound here. In any case, my favorite performances of this piece possess in the phrasing the ability to relax at dramatic low points, endings, and subsidiary passages (there are always some to be found!), to let the music breathe a bit more.
It would be an exaggeration to pull out the old saying, “if everything is important, nothing is important,” but the general idea is applicable when performances are unceasingly high voltage in energy or tone. The great violin masters of yesterday had a way of keeping excessive reverence for each note in check and looking at the big phrase and the big picture. It’s always easy to say this with hindsight – and unfair to players who have spent probably a decade micro-managing every nanosecond of every note for, say, “perfection” in a competition. It thus seems cruel to tell a young musician “Perhaps don’t try so hard” (when the life of a young musician is harder than ever and no amount of trying seems enough) – but paradoxically the music needs a bit of that.
In conclusion, one will just say that this violinist is superb, and may she be rewarded with the golden touring life that her predecessors had rather more easily – and may the relaxation come! The same goes for the pianist. We read that both have been extremely busy earning degrees, competing, collaborating, performing, teaching, coaching, and much more. Their impressive biographies may be found on the following websites: Qian Yin and Po-Chuan Chiang.
More importantly, their beautiful recording is available to hear or purchase through Apple Music, Spotify, and MSR Classics (Brahms and Franck Violin Sonatas), but my recommendation would be the actual physical CD with illuminating liner notes by Dr. Gary Lemco.
