Joseph Martin Kraus: Violin Concerto in C major VB 151 (c. 1777/78)
Joseph Martin Kraus,
born on 20 June 1756 in Miltenberg (D)
died on 15 December 1792 in Stockholm
Date of composition:
around 1777-78
CD recommendation:
Takako Nishizaki 2006
What is striking: Joseph Martin Kraus has almost the same life data as Mozart, he was almost the same age and also died young, only one year later than Mozart, of tuberculosis. Born in
Miltenberg am Main, he studied law in Mainz and Ehrfurt, but was also already intensively involved with music. Thanks to a student friend, he came to Sweden. He wrote a polemic entitled
"Something of and about music: for the year 1777" a music-aesthetic treatise in the sense of the aesthetics of Sturm und Drang. After a hard time in Sweden, he had the good fortune to become
second court conductor at the Swedish court. There he composed string quartets, symphonies and even operas in Swedish. Like Mozart, he was one of the most talented composers at the end of the
18th century, even at a young age. Joseph Haydn said of him: "I possess one of his symphonies, which I keep in memory of one of the greatest geniuses I have known. I have only this single work by
him, but I know that he wrote other excellent things"[1]. Even though Haydn, after a visit by Kraus to Esterhazy, judged Kraus's music to be "music of astonishing perfection" and called Kraus one
of the two geniuses of his time (Mozart was also meant), Kraus's work was completely forgotten until the 20th century. Even today, individual symphonies by him are only known in musical circles.
His only violin concerto is also worth listening to again, as it is close to Mozart's violin concertos, but the violin part is more demanding.
[1] Quotation taken from the homepage of the Joseph Martin Kraus Society: http://www.kraus-gesellschaft.de
Listening guide:
I. Allegro moderato
Right at the beginning, the orchestra (classically scored with strings, 2 flutes, 2 horns) brings a theme that combines speech and counter-speech. The first motif is resolutely redoubled, the second thematic section tenderly enquiring, which then continues to pulsate and press forward until, after a brief pause in the strings, the secondary theme blossoms in quiet quarters. The solo violin takes over the opening motif and immediately connects it with its tender counter-figurations. The violin takes us on a journey, as it were, into lovely and joyful worlds. A short cadenza in the violin leads back to the opening motif, this time in G major, and leads into a virtuoso middle section, a kind of development. The movement never forgets its opening motif, never forgets the tenderness of the counterspeech. C major comes again. The virtuoso figurations are demanding; at one point the violin soars up to the high c'''', underpinned by horns. The secondary theme also reappears until the horns ask for attention, the orchestra listens in quiet harmony and gives space for the soloist's main cadenza to appear. Then the orchestra returns da capo with the entire exposition of the beginning. An unusually long movement for a concerto of this time (about 15 minutes) - but characterised by a balance of energetic advance (Sturm und Drang!) and tender playfulness, all reconciled in a classically free spirit.
II. Adagio
What a beautiful lyrical Adagio! One could compare it with Mozart's second movement of the G major Violin Concerto K. 216. Only string sound; horns and flute are silent. The strings begin to sing and narrate. Then the solo violin plays the melody an octave higher, more extensively, lingering, quietly, taking its time, and with its catchy opening gesture it sets in again and again, inviting the listeners to longing sympathy. Unexpectedly, the harmony clouds over, the music descends into darker regions; for all its beauty, it also conveys existential knowledge about the dark. Then a hesitation in the pianissimo, but the beauty of the melody prevails. Then there is room for a free cadenza which invites the soloist to show his or her lyrical abilities.
III. Rondo
After this calm and contemplation of the Adagio, the violin places a rondo motif twice in succession, as if to remind us that time goes on. The orchestra immediately takes up the rondo theme. Then the violin takes full hold of the strings and runs through its 32nd-note figures at breakneck speed. Again comes the rondo theme, again the violin throws itself into the demands of the score with a dark tone, occasionally pausing somewhat wearily, only to be fully present again with its 32nd notes. Onward and onward in life until, at the very end of the movement, a small, discreet flick of the solo violin brings the rondo to an abrupt halt.