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Photos : EMI |
Yehudi
Menuhin (1916-1999) Three
stages in the life of a violinist By
Eric Taver
PARIS, 7 May 1999 - Extravagant tribute
has been paid "to the musician and especially the man" (heard
on a radio program) who was Yehudi Menuhin. Some even confused the man
with the enterprises that profit from the Menuhin "logo" and
prosper in its wake. They almost forgot to speak about Menuhin the
violinist, the phenomenon who simultaneously astounded America between
the wars, commissioned and created one of the masterpieces of the 20th
century - Bartok's Sonata for solo violin - and conversed on an equal
footing in the greatest concertos of the German repertoire with one of
the masters of the tradition - Wilhelm Furtwängler. Menuhin
is primarily an American phenomenon. He was probably the first child
violin prodigy to come from the New World and become famous there. I can
think of only one predecessor: Louis Persinger. Born in Rochester, but
soon forgotten as a child prodigy even though benefitting from lessons
with the Belgian violinist Ysaÿe, Persinger was, between 1914 and
1915, concert master of the Berlin Philharmonic under Arthur Nikisch,
before being the first great teacher of... Yehudi Menuhin. As we shall
see, the career of Louis Persinger was truly a dress rehearsal for that
of Menuhin, as if the United States needed a prototype before producing
Menuhin.
His second great teacher, who made him feel like "a
midget", was Enesco. Enesco was not American but a wanderer. In
Vienna and then in Paris where he was the pupil of the Belgian Martin
Marsick, Enesco was Romanian. But in his own country, he was not
Romanian but Moldavian. Persinger and Enesco taught Menuhin in the style
of the Franco-Belgian school, but as reinvented by exiles. In fact,
Menuhin's playing was self-taught, a new style of playing, just as
America is the new world.
We can more easily understand, when
listening to his pre-war recordings, Menuhin's famous statement that he
would like to combine "Kreisler's elegance, Elman's sonority ('the
violin that speaks') and Heifetz's technique". The role model for a
career in these pre-war years was, of course, Heifetz. Menuhin was born
in 1916, and Heifetz arrived in the United States in 1917, where his
virtuosity had the effect of an explosion: the young Yehudi's education
took place while America was acclaiming Heifetz. His first recordings,
the most fascinating violinistically, attest to this influence.
Heifetz, strictly from a technical point of view, is already our
contemporary. We must not, however, forget that Heifetz's style, rather
pretentious with his violin held very high, is not contemporary. We must
wait one more generation before this feeling of a faded charm disappears
definitively.
The first violinists to speak a language that is
still of our time are Milstein, Oïstrakh, and Menuhin. They
dominate the post-war period. Menuhin was no longer the flamboyant
prodigy of earlier years. History had given him a sort of new humility,
a new responsibility. In addition, having commissioned a "little
piece" from Bartók, to help him out, he must, in 1944,
introduce a masterpiece and struggle to master its frightening technical
difficulties. Listen to the fugue from the Sonata in the 1947 recording,
played slowly, obstinately, with tenacity rather than panache. Menuhin
is wrestling with his own facility.
But, for Menuhin, the
major post-war event was his meeting with Furtwängler. Having spent
two summers with the German violinist Adolf Busch Menuhin had already
discovered German culture. In rehabilitating the German conductor
accused of pro-Nazi sympathy, it is also an entire tradition, German
culture in its totality, that this New York Jewish violinist means to
defend in the midst of America's triumphant cheers. And because he has
learned to seek, to adapt, he can mold himself in accordance with Furtwängler's
metaphysical vision of the Brahms Concerto. It is of course in the 1949
recording with the Lucerne Festival Orchestra that one must listen to
Menuhin throw himself at the notes while taking every imaginable risk.
It is here that the Menuhin we will later come to know shows his colors,
the Menuhin whose left hand climbs into the stratosphere while pulling
at each note, catching it at the end of a finger and vibrating it to
limit the risk of going astray. Menuhin is establishing his own style, a
lively sound snatched from the string (as opposed to that of Oistrakh
who plays with the weight of the sound). Menuhin's system is
thus established. From that base, anything is possible, especially
encounters with the most diverse aesthetic worlds. Furtwängler, but
also, later, such different musicians as Wilhelm Kempff, Glenn Gould or
even David Oïstrakh: who has not been moved by the performance of
the two violinists in Bach's Double Concerto in Bruno Monsaingeon's film
"Le Violon du siècle"? To understand Menuhin's ability
to adapt, gliding into the slow movement while listening to Oïstrakh,
one must compare this recording to that made with his teacher, Enesco.
These are two different worlds, and nonetheless the same Menuhin. We
will skip over the more exotic encounters with jazz and non-Western
music, to Menuhin's encounters with himself.
Menuhin's
discography contains a large number of "remakes": the
well-known concertos, the Bach Sonatas and Partitas for violin solo, the
Bartok... As with Furtwängler, these "remakes" are always
recreations and not repetitions. The tempos, fingering, bowing, all
change. The general expression (striking in the Bach) and the technique
are used to seek serenity and balance, even if the hands seem to be at
odds with the demands of the music.
There is thus no
definitive interpretation for Menuhin, but the search for repose, for a
place where music, far from any pretension, vibrates naturally, where it
can breathe more than show off. This opening of musical feeling beyond
technique and schools, this fierce desire to gather music at the source,
can be found today in a Gidon Kremer or a Gil Shaham. It is in this
sense that Menuhin's lesson remains exemplary, today more than ever:
born in America when Heifetz was triumphing in the media, Menuhin died
in Berlin, closer to Adolf Busch and Wilhelm Furtwängler.
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