Beat Furrer
born on 6 Dec. 1954 in Schaffhausen
World premiere:
15 October 2020 in Munich by Ilya Gringolts (The recording of the premiere is available on YouTube)
Swiss premiere:
6 September 2021 in Lucerne, also by Ilya Gringolts
Further recording:
Gunde Jäch-Micko 2024 (in the media box ‘Furrer 70’ of the Klangforum Wien)
Misty beginning... noises, breath (in bass flute and accordion).
Barely perceptible structures and shapes.
Deep bass sound of the winds.
Amorphous sounds push upwards into the space.
Then high notes, identifiable as the soloist's violin notes, become audible, slowly moving downwards above the amorphous sound world.
The two sound worlds, orchestra and violin, move towards each other as if they wanted to meet and merge in the middle. Or even cross.
Over time, rudiments of a melody seem to emerge from the violin.
But nothing is clear.
On the contrary, suddenly a wild outburst of the orchestra,
that destroys this mysterious initial development. No crossing succeeds.
Short silence after the commotion.
General fright.
Trembling of the violin, halting enquiries in a restless violin recitative, which increases.
Deep orchestral beats, novel brass sound combinations, wild orchestral snatches.
The violin struggles for presence, falters.
A trombone note - long and serious, decisive - , the orchestra joins in and slowly fades away, amorphous sounds as at the beginning.
The violin joins in again, inquiringly.
A new merging of amorphous sounds, but marked by a carrying beauty...
Another short outburst, a trembling of the violin on a constant tone, splinters of a violin tone... as it were a search by the violin for its own identity and timbre.
Then a slow fading away.
Wildly aggressive violin recitative.
Highest agitation, a bracing against despair, rebellion.
Apocalyptic mood.
As if the violin wanted to save itself.
The orchestra, splintered into a thousand fragments and sounds, takes over the wild movement, pursues the violin and drives it before it.
The violin rises to the highest registers, its wildly virtuosic splintering of notes, a kind of rushed chaffing out of desperation. Wild runs.
Broad expanses of sound underpin the wild speech-like violin outburst.
Breathlessness and back and forth between orchestra and wild violin figures.
Then, unexpectedly, a break-off!
Once again, the violin starts with its wild outbursts and figures.
It speaks, talks, almost shouts, angrily, and braces itself against the orchestra.
It calms down only slowly. Her aggression is absorbed by orchestral sounds....
Everyone slowly finds their way back to calm, now and then the desperate aggression of the violin twitches again. Great leaps, the beginnings of melodies. Back to the tone in the highest register
of the beginning.
Woodwind dissonances overlay the whole, deep bass tones (and grounded accordion sounds) settle under the cloud of sound and the whole dies away soothingly.
The sounds become more beautiful and spherical... fading away in memory of the beginning.
‘This work has three nameless movements whose very different characters nevertheless never conceal their relationship. They are all based on basic tonal sequences. Never directly audible, they are the foundation for ever new harmonic structures above them. They are the basis of the relationships between the movements.
In the first movement, Furrer releases a melody from a harmonic gliding movement, which is inscribed with the cutting principle of a kaleidoscope. Imagine looking into such a kaleidoscope and the images arranged there as different lines of material already developed in themselves, which are intersected by rotation and thus create a variety of combinations. Hovering far above the orchestra, the violin melody glides through the chords from which it originates until it finds an elegant independence and begins to sink into the lower registers. There it intersects with the ascending orchestra. The kaleidoscope now turns more slowly; all the layers glide smoothly into one another.
In the second movement, the speed of rotation increases rapidly and the music becomes more volatile and denser. The tiniest melodic particles emerge, are accelerated and are integrated into the harmonic structure, where they are enriched with eloquent glissando figures, only to detach themselves again shortly afterwards. Melodies emerge and fade away in the process.
The third movement combines melodic particles from the first two movements. The resulting monophonic melody is fragmented into a polyphony; large intervallic leaps, partly speaking, partly
singing passages are kaleidoscopically cut into one another.
The concerto for violin and orchestra is aware of its genre. It is a virtuoso concerto that is partly orchestral and partly intimate chamber music and in which the soloist Gunde Jäch-Micko
continuously searches for a melody between singing, speaking intonation and noise. At the end, alongside the melody found, there is the possibility of others.’