So we begin with Shostakovich’s 1934 sonata – an expansive opening movement, with Hecker putting her heart on her sleeve for the first subject’s sensuous lyricism and Helmchen firmly in the role of a sensitive accompanist. Some people have seen here a reflection of the composer’s personal life at this time – having had an affair with a student, leading to a temporary separation from his wife. I’m never sure how much of the person to read into the music, though certainly there’s something indefinably autobiographical about this first movement that the other three somehow lack.
Stylistically anarchic, Schnittke’s sonata is over forty years younger than Shostakovich’s. Both performers have opportunities to show off their technical prowess, particularly in the second movement. Hecker opens this with some material that evokes the muted buzzing of a trapped bee, and while Helmchen’s responses start out as simple, brutal chords, it’s not long before his fingers, too, start to fly. I try not to get too carried away by subjective visual imagery, but for me the concluding Largo conveys a feeling of icy stasis; the final bars are gorgeously chilling.
Some welcome relief comes in the form of Stravinsky’s Pulcinella-derived Suite italienne – opening with the well-known Introduzione, used for many years as the signature tune for Classic FM’s ‘Evening Concert’ programme. The elegant idiom gives both Hecker and Helmchen a chance to showcase some lighter, more galant playing; a whirling Tarantella is answered by a beautifully still, poised Minuet, slowly working itself up into a more excitable style in order to lead into the cascading, nimble Finale. Neoclassical Stravinsky at his finest and most bracing, and a great way to bring the curtain down on the first half of the programme.
On to the rest of the alphabet. Mieczysław Weinberg (born in Poland but taking Soviet citizenship after fleeing the Nazi invasion) drew on the Jewish musical traditions of Eastern Europe in his music, as well as being influenced by Shostakovich, with whom he enjoyed a close friendship. Echoes of the latter are definitely audible, yet there’s an extra sense of lugubriousness here that I rarely hear in Shostakovich’s music. The central movement, with its lilting siliciano rhythms, is one of the most beautiful tracks on the album.
Prokofiev’s C major sonata is one of a brace of his works inspired by the legendary Mstislav Rostropovich. The direction piena voce (‘with full voice’) leaves no doubt that the cello’s singing tone is unashamedly on display, here initially in the deeper register (Hecker audibly revelling in those bass sonorities) and later higher up the fingerboard. The first movement’s closing bars feature a brief flurry of activity before an almost lullaby-ish feeling descends; the second, despite a rather foursquare opening, relaxes in its middle section and introduces lyrical hints of Romeo and Juliet and Cinderella.
And finally, the oldest work on the album, Rachmaninoff’s mighty G minor sonata. Rounding off the album with this pre-Revolutionary work (dating from 1897, just after the Second Piano Concerto) draws it to a melodious conclusion after some more challenging repertoire. I find the give-and-take between cello and piano as equal partners more apparent here than in any of the preceding works. Maybe it’s the way Helmchen leans into the similarities between the piano writing and Rachmaninoff’s famous solo piano works, letting Hecker complement it with a beautiful countermelody.
There’s no getting round it – there’s a lot to take in on these two discs, musically and otherwise. Any one of these works (except perhaps the Suite italienne) represents something of an emotional journey, and to be taken on several such journeys back to back did leave me feeling a bit worn out. But as an album, it’s an amazing monument to the artistry of these two musicians, both as individuals and together as a musical power couple.
Marie-Elisabeth Hecker (cello), Martin Helmchen (piano)
Available Formats: 2 CDs, Hi-Res FLAC/ALAC/WAV, FLAC/ALAC/WAV, MP3
