Unsuk Chin (*1961): Violin Concerto (2001)
Unsuk Chin
born 14 July 1961 in Seoul, South Korea
First performance:
20.01.2002 by Viviane Hagner and the Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester conducted by Kent Nagano.
CD recording:
2008 Viviane Hagner
As a violin concerto, this composition by Unsuk Chin is "the first masterpiece of the new century", said one critic when the concerto was premiered in Montréal in March 2008. For Chin, it is
important that her compositions are not simply confined to South Korean music. Although born in South Korea, she was musically trained in Europe and studied with György Ligeti, among others. She
has lived in Berlin since 1988.
A quote from her can serve as a good introduction to her violin concerto and helps to adequately preset our own listening expectations: "My music is the image of my dreams. The visions of
immense light and of improbable splendour of colour which I behold in all my dreams I try to represent in my music as a play of light and colour flowing through space and at the same time forming
a plastic sculpture of sound whose beauty is very abstract and also distant, but precisely because of this appeals directly to the emotions and conveys joy and warmth."
On the form: The concerto is unusual, but the same as Unsuk's Piano and Cello Concertos, in four movements (4 Movements!) and follows the movement characters of a classical symphony, with an
introductory and expository first movement, a slow and a jocular one, and a final movement that recalls the beginning at the end.
The violin stands opposite the orchestra, often even hovering above the orchestral sound, which usually carries or sometimes seems secretly threatening.
Unsuk Chin's Violin Concerto was awarded the prestigious and financial Grawemeyer Prize of the University of Louisville for music composition in 2004.
Listen here!
Listening guide:
Movement I
Everything begins in the dark. Lying, gently moving low sounds of two marimbas form the background, to which the solo violin draws a delicate line, mixed from harmonics, overtone sounds and the empty strings of the violin. Fifths, the spacing of the empty strings on the violin, open up the space from which everything emerges. Harps pluck, chords shift, their sonorous movement allows a fine sound space to emerge and swell, which then unexpectedly fades out, as it were, on the empty G-string of the solo violin. In a kind of cadence, a musical zooming, so to speak, the violin introduces itself and its fifths sound space, as if it were tuning itself once more to what is about to happen. It rehearses its runs and possibilities, improvising dreamily, as it were. Quiet timpani beats and flute interjections accompany. Then conspicuous sliders follow over the high strings, ending the cadenza. The violin pushes forward. The movement quickens, culminating in a moto perpetuo of the whole orchestra driven by interjections from flutes, harps, xylophone and winds. Ever more violent orchestral beats drive the violin forward. Then a moment of calm, followed by another cadenza, more contoured than before, rising from delicate to energetic playing. The orchestra joins in wildly. A sustained brass chord and wild runs in the strings introduce the noisy climax of the movement, a dream becomes a nightmare, the orchestra drives the soloist into wild despair until she crashes, exhausted.
Movement II
The slow second movement begins with a long line of the violin, calmed again, accompanied first by regularly plucked harps and quiet percussion, then by gentle sounds from the orchestra. The strings buzz gently. The warm consonance heard here, together with its bright glittering surface (extended downwards by gongs), is reminiscent of a sound world we somewhat superficially associate with Asia. But it is not a cliché rest, the sounds develop in manifold searching forward in space, there and there, sometimes almost somewhat nervously. Suddenly, cutting brass chords, the violin wakes up in confusion, and only slowly does the mood calm down again. As in the first movement, long brass chords appear again, but now they slowly lead the violin, the orchestra and us listeners back into deep calm.
Movement III
Contrast is the order of the day, rhythm instead of calm sounds. Pizzicati, violent tearing of the strings, plucking melodic fragments in the violin take the lead, restless rhythms and clear beats characterise this movement, as if to recall the scherzo movement of traditional symphonic music. More and more, the violin falls into the clutches of the orchestra, resists for the moment, flees, then escapes to stratospheric heights, hides. A moment's pause, then the violin plucks its pizzicati and rhythms again, but the orchestra has had enough and seems reluctant to retune itself, fifths sounds, the violin remains alone with its plucked rhythms, the end.