This recording of music from eighteenth-century Berlin presents a collection of little-known works for violin, viola, violoncello and keyboard. It features sonatas by Johann Gottlieb and Carl Heinrich Graun, two brothers who worked for the King of Prussia, Frederick II (‘The Great’, 1712–1786). The king himself was a highly accomplished flautist and a composer of modest ability. The music here was not likely to have been composed for the king, nor heard in his private nightly soirées, in which he performed as flute soloist. Rather, this repertory was for the private use of others and for the musical academies hosted first in the 1730s by the court bassist Johann Gottlieb Janitsch (1708–c1763) in Rheinsberg, the residence of Crown Prince Frederick; these continued after 1740 in Berlin. Salons and additional musical academies sprang up in Berlin in the 1740s once Frederick took up residence as king, and it was there that members of the court and the nobility performed. Another possible venue for this music may have been the Große Hofkonzerte (grand court concerts) hosted by the queen, Princess Amalia (the king's sister) and other members of the royal family. In these concerts, the large court orchestra performed sinfonias and arias, and Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach is known to have performed one of his compositions at least once in such a concert. During the Seven Years War (1756–1763), these concerts paused, but the academies remained an important venue for music and performances by court musicians.
Johann Gottlieb Graun (1702/1703–1771), the elder brother, was a brilliant violinist who served most of his career as concertmaster of the royal opera orchestra, which Frederick II established in Berlin in 1742. Johann's younger brother, Carl Heinrich (1704–1759), was a singer and the court's opera composer and Kapellmeister from 1740 until his death. Both men had formed part of the king's intimate music ensemble since Frederick's days as crown prince in Rheinsberg, and both were integral to the shaping of musical taste at court. An expressive and idiosyncratic Berlin musical idiom resulted that combined the best elements of the baroque and emerging classical styles; within this idiom was an important offshoot, what is now typically known as der empfindsame Stil (the sensitive style), as well as early examples of ‘Sturm und Drang’. Gottlieb Graun's Sonata in C minor for viola and obbligato keyboard, recorded here, falls into this niche. The Berlin style formed collectively with the influence of older court composers such as Johann Joachim Quantz and Emanuel Bach. It would prevail under Frederick's rule for decades, even as tastes elsewhere moved towards Viennese classicism. Charles Burney complained of the tenacity of the Berlin style and its performance conventions, which he experienced during his visit to Berlin and Potsdam in 1772.
The performance conventions Burney encountered are an essential aspect of the Berlin style. Few musicians have truly mastered its intricate, often elaborate, ornamentation. This involves varying interpretation of its ornament signs, including, for example, dozens of meanings that a simple ‘tr’ may have depending upon context. Few follow the style's conventions of continuo accompaniment or those regarding tempo (which differed significantly from elsewhere in Europe), despite ample, detailed information published in well-known eighteenth-century sources and admonishment from Emanuel Bach himself in his Versuch über die wahre Art das Clavier zu spielen (two parts, Berlin: Henning, 1753 and Berlin: Winter, 1762).
The Graun brothers are often spoken of in one breath, with little distinction made between them beyond their unique roles at court. Many of the thousands of eighteenth-century manuscripts transmitting their compositions bear simply the attribution ‘Graun’. This has made it enormously difficult for scholars and musicians to draw meaningful conclusions about what each man composed and their respective styles. In addition, the immense popularity and wide transmission of the Grauns’ works during the second half of the century has led to frequent misattributions in the sources. A definitive attribution for many of these works remains impossible, unfortunately, and efforts to identify a composer therefore rely on less definitive aspects, including genre and style. Fortunately, if one becomes intimately acquainted with enough of these works over time, a clear distinction in style emerges between the two brothers, and we can begin to make more educated guesses when assigning works. In addition to pieces by the Grauns, the recording includes one work each by their colleagues at court, Janitsch and the violinist Franz Benda (1709–1786), who led the king's chamber music.
The publication of a thematic catalogue of works by the Graun brothers (Christoph Henzel, Graun-Werkverzeichnis: Verzeichnis der Werke der Brüder Johann Gottlieb und Carl Heinrich Graun (Beeskow: Ortus, 2006); abbreviated here as GraunWV) has done much to help identify the location of the thousands of surviving manuscripts, but little to untangle problematic attributions and chronology, particularly for the instrumental works. The present lack of an index by instrument for the Grauns’ output has made it difficult or impossible for musicians to identify chamber works they might wish to perform, and the majority of their works, many of which deserve attention, remain difficult to locate. Thus any recording that might contribute to a better understanding of these fascinating pieces is a most welcome contribution. One as stylish as this is commendable.
Three pieces on this recording are attributed rather securely to the elder Graun, Johann Gottlieb, and a fourth is by Carl Heinrich. Johann Gottlieb's instrumental works are by and large superior to, and more interesting than, those of Carl Heinrich, whose talents primarily lay in vocal music and lyricism. Yet the work by Carl Heinrich included here is particularly interesting as a rare example of a Berlin sonata for cello and continuo. Among the handful of other contemporaneous Berlin compositions for solo cello are those by Emanuel Bach (lost), Georg Czarth and Johann Kirnberger (published 1768).
Gifted violists were available throughout the city, such as Georg Caspari (known as Benda), who performed for the king's soirées. Yet the importance of the viola in works by Johann Gottlieb Graun suggests that Graun himself played that instrument at an unusually high level for the time. No one else seems to have produced this quantity of difficult music for the viola in Berlin. Certainly, it was popular as a chamber instrument in Berlin circles outside of the court. Several local solo works for viola or those where it is an equal partner to the violin were collected by the salonnière Sara Levi (1761–1854), whose brother, Benjamin Itzig (1756–1833), was also a collector of music and a violist of some accomplishment. Levi also owned the three viola duets by Wilhelm Friedemann Bach, the quartets with flute, violin and viola by Quantz, and numerous quartets with viola including those by Janitsch, the Grauns and other Berlin composers, as well as at least two viola sonatas by Franz Benda, one of which appears on this recording. (On Levi's holdings see my introduction to The Collection of the Sing-Akademie zu Berlin, part 4: Chamber Music and Piano Music (Munich: Saur, 2009), especially 43–44.)
All of the works on this recording's programme are composed within the standard Berlin three-movement sequence slow–quick–less quick, with an (almost always) obligatory improvised cadenza at the end of the first movement. In Berlin, it was customary to compose double cadenzas ahead of time (those for two soloists or works for one soloist with obbligato keyboard). Quantz advises that cadenzas should surprise the listener, and provided examples of how to do this. In addition to those he sketched, a considerable number of contemporary examples survive. The cadenzas provided by the performers for each work on the programme are delightful, imaginative and model examples of this style. The genres included on this recording are sonatas for one melody instrument with an obbligato keyboard (in which the music for both hands is written in full), sonatas for one melody instrument with a basso continuo (where the right hand of the keyboard is improvised and a cello may be expected, or is at least helpful, to reinforce the bass) and trio sonatas for two melody instruments plus basso continuo (realized by keyboard and cello).
Johann Gottlieb Graun's Sonata in C minor for viola and obbligato keyboard (GraunWV Av:XV:20) is an example of the special cultivation of the viola as soloist in the Berlin chamber repertory. This work survives in two sources, one of which is in Berlin (Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin, Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Musikabteilung (hereafter D-B) Mus. Ms. 8295/2) and assigns the work to ‘Sigr. Graun Maestro di Concerti’, a reference to Gottlieb; another source, in Washington, DC (Library of Congress, US-Wc M412.A2 B15), transmitted with trio sonatas by Emanuel Bach, originally lacked a title or an attribution. This anonymous source is not listed in the Graun catalogue. The sonata is a gripping, overtly expressive composition with a highly chromatic first movement, and it demands particular virtuosity from both viola and keyboard. Stylistically, this is an example of the quirky, more extreme vein of der empfindsame Stil, which may be why one editor, working from the anonymous Washington manuscript, attributed it to Friedemann Bach (‘Sonata in C minor . . . by W. F. Bach’, edited by Yella Pessl (London: Oxford University Press, 1947, 1). Georgina McKay Lodge plays the work with tremendous precision, energy and perfect intonation, even in the frequent multiple stops and demanding passages of bariolage. This rendition of the sonata astonishes and delights, not least in the Berlin-style double cadenza that concludes the first movement. I predict that McKay Lodge's performance will become one of the definitive recordings of this work.
Another solo for viola on this programme, this time with basso continuo, is Franz Benda's Sonata in C minor (Lee 3.137). Until the rediscovery of the Sing-Akademie collection, the only known version of this work was for violin, which is most likely a transcription from the viola original. Three manuscript sources exist for the viola (not one, as stated in the liner notes, and, contrary to the notes, none of these is known to have belonged to Benjamin Itzig, though one (Sing-Akademie 3357) did belong to Sara Levi). In Dresden and Berlin, the key of C minor traditionally denoted an especially powerful Affekt depicting lamentation, and composers such as Jan Dismas Zelenka used it for his requiem masses. This is a beautiful, lyrical sonata, as one would expect from Benda; however, the performance, while technically flawless, somewhat misses the emotional mark. Overlooked are the strokes in the slow movement's main theme that follow slurs. The second movement is performed under tempo for a Berlin Allegro, and thus fails to contrast sufficiently with the opening Adagio. In this case, the repeats in the quick movements should have been taken more quickly, which is necessary, as Quantz admonished, to avoid putting the listeners to sleep and once again to arouse their attention (Johann Joachim Quantz, Versuch einer Anweisung die Flöte traversiere zu spielen (Berlin: Voß, 1752), 221). In the third, less quick movement, the trills lack brilliance because of the omission of the requisite Berlin-style terminations, which Emanuel Bach advised should always be executed, time permitting (Versuch über die wahre Art das Clavier zu spielen, volume 1, 55–56). Quantz also indicated that without a termination, a trill is not complete (Versuch einer Anweisung, 85). Overall, the gradation of dynamics is not observed adequately. The continuo's ensemble, however, is impeccable throughout, and tastefully and stylishly present without ever becoming intrusive. Here and elsewhere, cellist Eva Lymenstull plays with sensitivity and perfect intonation. The style infractions mentioned here are not likely to stand out to most listeners, and I nevertheless recommend the performance overall.
Janitsch's Trio Sonata for violin, viola and continuo in G minor belonged to Sara Levi's collection. This is one of the composer's more exciting pieces, earning him a well-deserved place on the programme. The McKay Lodge sister-soloists on violin and viola create a warm, luxurious and seamless blend of sound in this performance – the two are so in sync that the viola sounds like a lovely extension of the violin's range, rather than a separate entity. All three movements are gracefully and movingly executed. The only fault in this otherwise impressive and satisfying performance is a lack of contextual variety and sparkle in the soloists’ execution of the ‘tr’ sign, as was customary in Berlin.
The Sonata in B flat major for violin and obbligato keyboard (GraunWV Av:XV:46) by Gottlieb Graun is nothing short of an extraordinary composition, and the performance does it full justice. The first movement is an example of what I fondly call Graun's ‘complicated style’, comprising a rich tapestry of rhythmically varied and intricate melodies. Most extraordinary about the composition are the frequent and highly specific dynamic markings, which, near the end of the first movement, signal a decrescendo from f to p, then to pp and finally ppp as the music momentarily moves to the remote key of B flat minor. Unusual, too, is the through-composed third movement, which is twice interrupted by passages that also move suddenly to the tonic minor, marked ‘poco lento’ and ‘con sordino’, a rare instance of a mute being required in an eighteenth-century violin sonata. In all three movements, the melodies are richly decorated, with a wide variety of Berlin-style ornaments that are, however, not always executed according to convention by the violinist. The difference in execution between keyboard and violin is most noticeable in imitative passages, in which, as Quantz explains, the answering parts must be played identically in a trio sonata, a genre that he calls the ‘true touchstone’ for a performer (‘eigentlich der Probierstein’; Versuch einer Anweisung, 172). The soloists conclude the first movement with another delightful and stylishly composed double cadenza. Augusta McKay Lodge shines in the finale with astonishing near-perfect intonation in the melodic stratospheres of the violin and in a spectacular flight of bariolage, alternating p and f, that concludes with impressive spiccato fireworks. That passage is flanked by fiery capriccio-like episodes for the keyboard, which Schulenberg executes with precision and the utmost flair.
The Cello Sonata in C major by Carl Heinrich Graun (GraunWV B:XVII:53) is a charming, if conventional piece. Its importance is raised on account of the rarity of surviving Berlin works for the instrument. The attribution to this Graun is secured by a copy by Johann Gottlieb Freudenberg, a highly reliable, accurate copyist who made thousands of copies under Quantz's supervision. There were numerous cellists in Berlin during the 1740s who might have played this work, including Carl Heinrich himself; the most prestigious and highly paid of the court cellists was Ignác Frantiŝek Mara (1709–1783), appointed chamber musician in May 1742. Lymenstull, with her enviable technique and characteristically perfect intonation, makes the work shine. Schulenberg's elegant continuo realization is discreet yet supportive.
The final work on the programme is the delightful Trio Sonata in A major by Johann Gottlieb Graun (GraunWV AvXV:42), which survives in three Berlin sources. Two of these manuscripts attribute the work to Johann Gottlieb (D-B, Amalien-Bibliothek 240; and Sing-Akademie 3780), while a third (owned by King Friedrich Wilhelm II) assigns it just to ‘Graun’ (D-B, Königliche Hausmusik 1938). Stylistically, there can be little doubt the work is by Gottlieb. The first movement is labelled Adagio con tenerezza (Adagio with tenderness), an uncommon heading also used by Quantz. The gently intertwining violin and viola parts are played expressively, and the performance of this movement concludes with an elegant double cadenza in Berlin fashion. Apart from some quibbles with the execution of ornaments, the remaining movements are equally polished.
Lastly, and not least, the engineering of the recording, by Antonio Oliart, is well balanced, natural and of the highest calibre. Overall, this album should find a place in any music library. It is a brilliant example of the best chamber music by the Grauns and from eighteenth-century Berlin generally, and is an absolute joy to listen to.
