Schuman: Violin Concerto

The Schuman violin concerto has been a long-time favourite of mine. It is one of the 20th century concertos I most happily return too. What a fantastic piece of music this is! The muscular self-confidence that oozes from this score, however, belies the difficulties William Schuman had in moulding the piece into its final shape. He went through several rounds of major revisions stretching over a period of 14 years. This seems to have been quite exceptional in his oeuvre. Schuman was generally not a person given to tinkering with his scores (also given his extensive responsibilities as teacher and administrator). The final iteration (1959) resulted in an odd bipartite structure which somehow comes across as perfectly cogent.

The first part starts Allegro risoluto and moves into a first long, rapturous intermezzo (with the soaring violin initially underpinned by a quite beautiful, solemn clarinet). Muted trumpets re-introduce the bristling music of the start. Soon the soloist launches into an extended and startlingly eloquent cadenza (the only section that came through all revisions unscathedly). A wild and dark Agitato section whips up the music to a veritable frenzy. Brilliantly Schuman builds in a short cadenza-like section before the movement's turbulent close. The second part starts solemnly with martial timpani and a monolithic chorus of brass instruments. Quickly, the music dies down in a drawn-out pedal point, beautifully scored for the low strings. There is a long Adagio section in which the soloist stretches a broad, questioning arc above a densely chromatic, somber orchestral fabric. A fugatic passage leads into a section of nervous activity, with a scurrying violin in dialogue with various, equally edgy orchestral sections. But suddenly another one of these pedal points gives the soloist an opportunity to rise into stratospheric realms once more. This is short-lived, however, and soon the violin engages in a skittish section that - poco a poco accelerando - leads to a steel-clad apotheosis. Again, a final, heartbreakingly beautiful adagio section. The piece ends with breathless coda.

What stands out is the contrast between darkness and autumnal light, between a dominantly frenetic and craggy sort of music and interludes of transcendental beauty and calm. The score bristles with ideas. There is not a single dull page. And Schuman seems to have found a voice here that is very much his own. Although rather accessible and tonal, the music sounds resolutely personal.

The recording I listened to is sadly not longer available in CD format. It can be downloaded via the DGG website, however. It documents the extraordinary collaboration between two very young men and a terrific orchestra - the Boston SO - in its prime.  In 1970 Michael Tilson Thomas, just over 25, was at the very threshold of his conducting career. It had been barely a year since his debut with the BSO. The soloist is Paul Zukofsky, who was only a year older  He went on to build a distinguished career as a specialist in new American music. Their performance certainly has the fire of youth. But they also have the full measure of this complex score. I can't imagine a more persuasive case for this neglected masterpiece.