• July 2025 - Review - Fanfare Mag - Colin Clarke
BRAHMS Violin Sonatas Nos. 1–3. “F-A-E” Sonata: Scherzo • Rachel Kolly (vn); Christian Chamorel (pn) • INDÉSENS 032 (69:37)
In a crowded field, this recording stands out for several reasons. One is an acknowledgement of Brahms’s admiration of French music and attitudes. The booklet notes remind us of Brahms’s comments about performances by the French Geloso Quartet, and how their lightness was so laudable. “It takes Frenchmen to play my music properly,” he is reputed to have said.
Rachel Kolly has heretofore appeared in the Fanfare Archive as Rachel Kolly d’Alba. She appeared with Christian Chamorel in a disc on Aparté of Chausson and Franck (Fanfare 38:6) while, personally, I enjoyed Christian Chamorel’s Mendelssohn Piano Concertos (Fanfare 38:3). Together, they are greater than the sum of their parts, and this just how it should be. They are certainly of one mind as to their approach to this music. Kolly pays a 1732 Stradivarius.
The G-Major Sonata quotes a Brahms song, Regenlied (op. 59/3) in its finale, and is sometimes known as the “Regen” (Rain) Sonata. The prevailing melancholy of that song (in which the protagonist remembers a youth in which singing was a curative act against the downpour) informs the entire sonata. With Kolly and Chamorel, however, the melancholy is fluid. There is no detrimental lingering; instead, the music surges forward. Both artists are equally matched, and at the highest level, from each chord in the piano carefully balanced to Kolly’s sweet high register and tensile lower passages. Kolly and Chamorel perfectly honor Brahms’s indication of Vivace ma non troppo. The Vivace reminds us there is life, and indeed Spring, in Brahms’s music; Kolly not only give us light textures, but their articulation also supports this. The Adagio is infinitely touching; it was written in what Kolly calls “the dramatic context” of the death of Felix Schumann (Robert and Clara’s youngest child). The funeral march has flow here, but not an ominous tread; rather, it is given with a weight of acceptance. And how beautiful is Kolly’s whispered stopping, and how rich is Chamorel’s lower register. That textural transparency pays huge dividends in the finale, where Chamorel is light and free. The music comes across as almost carefree at times; another aspect is that one notices how daringly bare Brahms’s textures can be. On a technical level, Chamorel’s right-hand octaves are properly legato, a real achievement, while his “raindrop” articulation (referring to the poem) is perfect.
Although the famous David Oistrakh/Richter recording is often taken as the standard here, perhaps it is more apt to bring in another modern performance that is perhaps more aligned to the traditional viewpoint on this music, that of Arabella Steinbacher and Robert Kulek on Pentatone (Fanfare 35:1). This is dreamy in comparison, often very beautiful, but also sometimes decidedly ponderous, certainly so after hearing Kolly and Chamorel. Steinbacher and Kulek’s funeral march material is more overtly black (if we are talking Rothko-esque gradations of black, Kolly and Chamorel’s shade is noticeably lighter). The finale on Pentatone is almost lethargic in comparison; it needs a breath or two more of fresh air, air that Kolly and Chamorel provide aplenty. There is no doubt that Steinbacher and Kulek’s reading is often shot through with beauty, but Kolly and Chamorel’s alternative viewpoint verges on the revelatory.
Marked Allegro amabile, the first movement of Brahms’s A-Major Sonata is possibly the height of Gemütlichkeit. Another song informs his sonata, the more famous “Wie Melodien zieht es mir,” op. 105/1. Kolly and Chamorel capture the mood to perfection, with Chamorel’s light tone and perfectly inflected chord sequences set against Kolly’s natural lyricism. And it really is natural; again, flow is at the core of the reading. There is, in the case of the First Sonata, a sense of nostalgia, perhaps tinged with less melancholy here. The second movement, Andante tranquillo, contains passages of pure dance in its Vivace moments here, providing utter delight and the perfect contrast to the heart-wrenching simplicity and radiance of the F-Major of the main theme. Kolly’s lower register is lovely at the finale’s opening, but it is her phrasing, and Chamorel’s reciprocal response, that seems both charming and utterly of Brahms. The movement seems like one long, satisfying outbreath.
The more generous acoustic of Steinbacher and Kulek’s recording, coupled with a greater sense of musical space, can rob the music of direction in the more turbulent passages. They are surely somewhere between Andante and Adagio for the main theme, here rather somber. Kulek is nicely characterful in the Vivace, though, although it is more non-Andante than Vivace; the last movement, again very beautiful, tends toward the soporific in comparison, but does have one interesting aspect: It makes one question how much Elgar took from Brahms. Some of the moments almost sound like they could come from the Englishmn’s pen. This is fascinating, but again it is Kolly and Chamorel that shine.
With its turn toward more concise handling of material, albeit over a greater span, the Sonata No. 3 in D Minor, op. 108, offers a slightly different flavor of challenge. The piano part is even more significant, with echoes of the earlier D-Minor Piano Concerto, perhaps. Chamorel is a fine pianist; Kolly puts no note wrong. A touch more mystery, perhaps, would have sealed the deal, but this remains a lyrical, touching reading. In her liner notes, Kolly suggests that the piece combines the maturity of older Brahms with the fire of the younger one. Koly and Chamorel imply an almost symphonic aspect to the Adagio, as if it were a reduction from a greater edifice. The Scherzo is sparkling, Chamorel’s dexterity delicious, with Kolly’s rhythmic grasp adding to the drama. Of all the many versions in the catalog I have heard, this is now my top recommendation for this movement. The overall effect is so alive, all down to proper metrical and rhythmic sense, and true chamber music attitudes, leading to an electric finale, a Presto agitato that is both fast and agitated (and by fast, I mean definably more than Allegro), moving toward an entirely satisfying end.
Steinbacher and Kulek present contrasts that are drawn like sabres: Steinbacher hits high notes dead-center, and Kulek is heroic in response. Interestingly, Kolly and Chamorel are finer in the quiet moments before those outbursts, a proper quid pro quo. Steinbacher and Kulek offer arguably a “proper” Adagio here (as in really slow), and just avoid sentimentality. They find much color in the third movement but cannot supplant the mix of spontaneity and absolute accuracy that characterizes Kolly and Chamorel’s account. Certainly, Steinbacher and Kulek’s recording supports the fearsome sound of a grand piano at full tilt. It is certainly one of their finest movements also, but they just miss the spring in the step that Kolly and Chamorel bring to the music.
Finally, there comes the “F-A-E” Sonata Scherzo, part of a jointly composed sonata (Brahms with Schumann and Albert Dietrich). Here lies fire, obvious from both Kolly and Chamorel in the opening and underlying the sublimely lyrical contrasting subject. Again, though, textural clarity is never compromised. Chamorel’s staccato is full-toned and adds urgency. Steinbacher seems to go out of her way to create a grating sound at the opening, but the fire is set to a lower gas mark.
There is no doubt from the above which is the preferred version here. In at least one movement, Kolly and Chamorel have gained the top slot over all rivals. This is a wonderful recording, defined by its musicality and maturity. Kolly and Chamorel are the real deal.
Colin Clarke
