On a rainy summer day a gew years ago first visited Friedrich Gulda with a thumping heart. At the time I didn’t dare imagine how fruitful our musical cooperation would soon become. My respect for this man and this many-sided talents reaches far back to my musical childhood; it is to him that I owe first intense stimuli for expanding and breaking down my “classical” musical barriers.
Quite naturally Gulda’s clavichord with its infinite spectrum of sounds and my cello led to first musical approaches between us, after only a few preliminary words. I believe that first thoughts and ideas for the cello-concerto date from our original, almost coincidental encounter. Other meetings during the following months intensified our mutual understanding; at least in the sense that Guida got more and more acquainted with my cello and me. Furthermore I received impulses for my playing, which became useful two years later (1980) when the cello concerto materialized. (Impulses of such far reaching effects, which leave me forever person-ally and musically indebted to this man.)
Specifically, the first movement of the concerto presents completely new challenges to the cellist. Besides the immensely difficult techniques involved, the aggressive rock-rhythm needs to be mastered. It must be played exactly, without vibrato and other things, which might be considered the bad habits of classical music in this context. I was happy, and Guida was maybe somewhat surprised that I succeeded at this task. Three times two choruses interrupted by two gentle lyrical interludes (or second themes) not only fulfilled my dream for cello playing in the idiom of jazz and rock, but they also excite the listener with their rock-hard tension. To that, almost surprisingly, the second movement forms the complete opposite.
“ldylle” precisely describes the Austrian Salzkammergut as the source of the beauty, the greatness and the simplicity of this music. (The fact that I myself was born in this region is pure coincidence and meant an additional challenge to me.) A spread-out simple melody expresses everything we often miss and search for. Just that any listener will find, if he is able to feel the strength of this music freely. The jovial middle part of this movement brings happy country-like relaxation and its centre is a tribute to the cellist, who may excel, like a tenor, in the best register of his instrument.
The cadenza – central point of the concerto – develops out of the last B-flat major chord of the second movement. The two improvised sections are easily recognizable. The first one with its wild double stops and the second (according to Guida) with “lovingly whistling” harmonics both contrast charmingly with thoughtful and hesitating monologues, as well as with wild rhythmic memories of the time before the “ldylle” (Thanks to the composer for making use of the lower strings as well!). The listener then finds himself calmed, as if in a dream, in the fantastically unreal minuet, which seems to have glided from its Central European origins into an oriental reverie; the wonderful maggiore-trio seems to float in space.
The last movement overwhelms with earthly happiness. It does not flirt but identifies itself completely with alpine brass music. The cello gets its chance to excel on this rustic basis; even the beloved and well-respected star-tenor of the health-resort (Bohemia?) may twice show how frighteningly beautiful and full of emotion he can sing. Extremely agitated, like a thunderstorm in the Austrian Salzkammergut, a jazz-like middle-part develops once more. It is followed by a “coda par excellence• which, first smilingly, then outright laughingly stimulates the now already breathless soloist to reach a magnificent end.
Heinrich Schiff [Translation: David Gulda]