Sunday, May 6, 2007

Sehr Lebhaft (Very Lively): Dimitri Murrath

Dmitri Murrath
DSM: Dimitri (“Dima”) Murrath gave a wonderful performance this afternoon at the Gardner, beautifully met by pianist Vincent Planès! Both are recently studying at the New England Conservatory.

CMT: Yes. And I was pleased to see the good Sunday afternoon turn-out of about 100 people—the ISGM Tapestry Room was nearly full to capacity. You know, at the moment there’s only one CD that’s available with Murrath’s playing on it. I really didn’t have any idea what we were likely to hear from him, prior to attending the event at the Gardner today. But of course his reputation did precede him! In 2006, Murrath won the Philip & Dorothy Green Award for Young Concert Artists, a British prize that funds musicians early in their careers (instrumentalists under 28 and singers under 32) to obtain performance experience throughout the U.K. Indirectly, that funding also helps the winners to stretch their other financial resources to do yet more, both at home and in other countries. Dimitri’s performance at the Gardner today is an example of that. The 2007 AYCA Award Winners are Alec Frank-Gemmill (horn), Diana Galvydyte (violin), Daniela Lehner (mezzo soprano), Katie Lockhart (clarinet), Amandine Savary (piano), and Dmitri Torchinsky (violin). About 100 artists have received the Award for Young Concert Artists since it began in 1961.

DSM: The 1939 Hindemith Sonata for viola and piano is a perfect showcase for Dimitri’s talent. The 1919 Sonata (Op. 11) was composed in 1918-1919 when Hindemith was just 24 years old, and there’s a certain coherence of the composer’s age and temperament with Dimitri’s, I think. Both the Op. 11 and Hindemith’s 1939 Sonata have a more romantic character than his other, more austere viola works, so Murrath’s viola has many opportunities here to show off its luster. The difficult last movement has Dimitri all over the fingerboard. As you know, this thing is a masterwork Hindemith meant to illustrate the his own superb skills as a violist, but Murrath truly makes the piece his own. Dimitri’s poise in the diverse, musical styles sounds entirely natural and authentic, belying some of the grueling finger work that this composition has.

CMT: Hindemith was without doubt one of the most significant German composers of his time, and yet his compositional techniques resist easy classification. His early works like Op. 11 are hard to pigeonhole. Is this in a late romantic idiom, or expressionist? It’s clearly not in the style of early Schoenberg, nor is it Hindemith’s contrapuntal, lean style of the later 1920s. Is it neoclassical? If so, it’s clearly not what we mean by ‘neoclassical’ in Igor Stravinsky’s works that are labeled with that term. In fact, we hear aspects of the contrapuntal language of Bach here. The 1939 Sonata that Dima and Vincent performed this afternoon was very contrapuntal, too, but the textures were even richer.

DSM: In the Sonata, Op. 11 No. 4, we hear a 24-year-old Hindemith just finding his voice. We hear his ambition; we hear his introspectiveness; we hear his experimentality. In the Sonata of 1939, we hear a more trenchant, mature Hindemith. This afternoon we had a virtuosic but introspective Murrath exploring, too, at a still early stage in his career. Remember it was Hindemith who, along with Lionel Tertis (1876-1975) and William Primrose (1904-1982), raised the status of the viola as a solo instrument to the position it now enjoys. Surely Dima will raise it yet further! And it was through the premiere of the Sonata for Viola and Piano, Op. 11, No. 4, that Hindemith began his career as a concert violist and a significant composer of music for the instrument. So here is now Dima Murrath, advancing the art, pushing the envelope for viola—at a similar moment in his career, very much like the phase that Hindemith was at in his own career. The first movement in the Sonata—‘Breit, mit Kraft’—was sweet, with poignant reversals. Bursts of objection gave way to acceptance. The second movement—‘Sehr lebhaft’—was delivered with an urgency and directness so convincing that one might wonder whether the piece was written in anticipation of Murrath’s arrival. Sehr lebhaft! The third movement—‘Phantasie’—featured wonderful spectral arpeggios by Murrath and spring-like water effects by Planès in the upper register of the piano. The Finale movement was gorgeous, belying the technical difficulties that it presents to the performers.

CMT: Besides the Hindemith, Murrath delivered an admirable interpretation of Dvoràk’s Sonatine in G Major for violin and piano, Op. 100, transcribed for viola. Dark, dense, very cinematic. And the Gardner is a very good, intimate venue for a duet performance like this. The informality of the setting is conducive to engaging museum-going patrons who might not otherwise attend a recital in a traditional concert hall. Someone sitting to your left remarked that the Tapestry Room feels like a home, fireplace and all. And the informality of the ISGM setting underscores the living, breathing vitality of chamber music idioms. The form is alive and vibrant and exciting! The hand-crafted bespokeness of it, the in-your-face relevance and accessibility of it! Very attractive!

DSM: Dimitri was born in Belgium in 1982. His handling of these pieces is utterly fearless. These pieces present huge problems for the performer, and yet he takes the work in stride. I like his dancing eyebrows and his open-mouthed expressions. His warm sound inflected with micro-tones—all of these things remind me of the courageous, open, in-your-face ethos of Belgium, the way we’ve encountered it in our travels there. There is a naturalness that’s entirely Dimitri’s own, of course. But his playing conveys an outgoingness, a cheerfulness that’s far broader, more universal—Belgian or otherwise. It’s that universality and youthful optimism that make his playing that much more attractive. Vincent, too, is a very animated player. These two are very well-matched!

CMT: The Alberto Ginastera, Carlos Guastavino, Xavier Monsalvatge, and Carlos Buchardo pieces were a valuable taste of relatively new Spanish and Argentinian music (transcribed for viola and piano by Robert Levin). Buchardo’s ‘Oye mi llanto’ (Hear My Cry) was very moving—lyrical, elegiac, brooding, dramatic. Well-suited to Murrath’s interpretive gift.

DSM: And Ginastera’s ‘Canción a la Luna Lunanca’ (Moonstruck / Song to the Cockeyed Moon) was a delightful contrast—humorous, bright, playful—proving that it’s possible to be ambitious without being serious or virtuosic every single moment!

T here are people who are uncanny, who are finished products at a very young age.”
  — Itzhak Perlman.


Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston


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