York Chamber Music Festival director and cellist Tim Lowe
THE recital was billed as the Festival Launch Concert – Gems of the Romantic Cello, but as the York Chamber Music Festival itself does not begin until September, I’m not entirely sure the description quite worked.
In truth, it felt more like a “taster” concert: a glimpse of what audiences might expect from this well-established and prestigious event later in the year.
That idea of a “taster” could — just — be applied to the opening work in the programme, Beethoven’s 12 Variations on “See The Conqu’ring Hero Comes”, WoO 45, for cello and piano, written when Beethoven was only 26 years old.
To be sure, he had already published significant works around this period — the Piano Trios, Op.1, the Piano Sonatas, Op.2, and his first two piano concertos — but it was as a virtuoso pianist that he initially established himself in Vienna. That background is reflected in the unusually substantial piano part.
The theme itself is based on the famous chorus from Handel’s Judas Maccabaeus, a composer Beethoven greatly admired. I really enjoyed the way the performers projected the reshaping of this famous ceremonial tune through the work’s changing moods and textures.
At first, the short movements came across as decorative, but from Variation 3 onwards the interplay became far more engaging. Here, cellist Tim Lowe’s agile playing danced around the melody while pianist Stephen Gutman’s accompaniment shimmered in the background.
The expressive cello line in Variation 5 felt almost operatic, while the witty exchanges and unexpected accentuation of Variation 7 were great fun. Even more thrilling were the technical fireworks of Variation 11. Indeed, it was the sheer exuberance of the performance that proved so enjoyable.
If describing the Beethoven as a “taster” work might be a slight stretch, it certainly applies to Richard Strauss’s Cello Sonata in F major, Op.6. Strauss began writing the work at the age of only 17 — an age when most young men are taking their first tentative steps into adulthood via their local pub.
The opening Allegro con brio was full of energy and passion. The roles of both players are very much equal, and Lowe and Gutman clearly relished the challenges. What struck me most was the orchestral nature of the writing: thick textures and an expansive Romantic atmosphere, especially in the development section.
Like the opening movement, the closing Finale: Allegro vivo featured exhilarating quickfire exchanges and extended virtuoso passages, particularly for the cello. The exhilarating dash to the finish line was genuinely thrilling.
Pianist Stephen Gutman
Yet it was the warm intimacy of the central Andante ma non troppo that left the strongest impression. Here, Lowe’s melodic playing glowed, amplified and sustained by Gutman’s tender support. But the partnership was very much one of equals, and the two players complemented each other superbly.
Camille Saint-Saëns’s Cello Sonata No.1 in C minor, Op.32 (1872), is surely one of the great Romantic works for cello and piano. The performers instinctively projected the dark, turbulent character of the opening Allegro. Lowe’s playing possessed the necessary dramatic nobility, while Gutman’s piano drove the music forward with urgency and weight.
The dialogue between the performers was powerful, while the sudden bursts of lyricism and the virtuosity of the closing passages fully convinced. Much the same could be said of the closing Allegro moderato, this time propelled by an almost relentless rhythmic momentum. Echoes of Beethoven? Maybe.
Once again, however, it was the central Andante tranquillo sostenuto that made the deepest impression. The sheer elegance of the playing was genuinely delightful.
One of the most striking features of the work was the dramatic use of the cello’s lowest string — the C string. The sound Lowe produced was dark and resonant, creating an almost orchestral quality throughout the sonata, and not only in the outer movements. In the Andante, that darker quality softened into warmth — a kind of chocolate-rich intimacy that proved utterly seductive.
This is a typical characteristic of Lowe’s instrument – the cello made by Carolus Tononi in Bologna in 1716 – and it may also explain the occasional blurring of the pitch centre in the higher positions.
The programme closed with Robert Schumann’s Adagio and Allegro, Op.70, surely one of the finest short chamber works of the Romantic era. Originally written in 1849 for horn and piano, it was later rearranged — with Schumann’s blessing — by the cellist Friedrich Grützmacher for cello and piano.
I’m glad he did, because Lowe’s warm cello tone drew out and intensified the yearning quality of the Adagio. Both players shaped the movement beautifully, capturing its introspective character withreal sensitivity.
The pivotal transition to the explosive energy of the Allegro was entirely convincing. Schumann marks the music Rasch und feurig (“Fast and fiery”), and indeed it was.
Lowe’s cello playing displayed a dazzling, heroic character, filled with sweeping runs, dramatic leaps and sharp exchanges with Gutman at the piano. What really elevates the movement, however, is the brief glimpse back towards the earlier tenderness — a fleeting glance over the shoulder before the inevitable drive towards the triumphant conclusion.
I don’t usually like encores. They are almost invariably unnecessary, creating a self-indulgent buffer that obscures the impact of a concert’s true ending. But I really did like this one: Schumann’s Five Pieces in Folk Style (Fünf Stücke im Volkston), Op.102, No.2 (Langsam). A sublime melody, beautifully played, reminding me why I fell in love with Robert Schumann’s music all those years ago.
Review by Steve Crowther
