David Boldrini & Manila Santini - Johannes Brahms: 21 Hungarian Dances, WoO 1 (For Piano 4 Hands) (2018)

Brahms was surely not gipsy and much less Hungarian. He was born in Hamburg, and this city was, of course, a world away from Hungary, which formed part of the Hapsburg Empire. When Hungarian political refugees on their way to the USA passed through Hamburg after the suppression of the revolutions of 1848, Brahms was exposed to the style hongrois. The first meeting with Hungarian music happened at the beginning of his career thanks to Hungarian violinist Eduard Reményi, whom Brahms had heard in concert in 1850 at age 17. In 1853, three years later, Brahms served as Reményi’s accompanist, touring together with him and deepening knowledge in Hungarian gipsy melodies. In the same year, he met for the first time Robert Schumann and his fascination with this musical idiom grew up and led him to write a set of variations on a Hungarian theme. In many other works it is possible to recognize this interest: in the Finale of his Violin Concerto, in the Gypsy Songs for vocal quartet and piano (1887) as well as in the fourth movement of Piano Quartet in G Minor No. 1 Op.25. On his path, he met another influent Hungarian violinist, Joseph Joachim, perhaps the most celebrated violin virtuoso of the day, becoming friends and musical collaborators soon. In this cd, it is presented the original version for piano four hands, published as two batches in 1869 (numbers 1-10) and 1880 (11-21). In general, the later sets have more of Brahms than of Hungary, and, perhaps consequently, were slightly less popular. Brahms knew well there would be a ready-made audience and they were considerably successful at the time indeed. The piano four hands version were countlessly arranged for different instruments, different groupings, and by many musicians. Seen in this light, the piano duet produced a valuable element in domestic enjoyment as well as serving a more professional purpose for later orchestra transcriptions. It is interesting to note that Brahms refused for all his life to take full credit for the melodies, he referred to them merely as arrangements. Despite his constant interest in Hungarian gipsy music, he failed to distinguish the gipsy from the Magyar correctly. All Dances are somewhat far from their original Magyar folk, and Gipsy forms and only numbers 11, 14, and 16 seem to be entirely original pieces. Almost all the pieces show the lifelong fascination by Brahms for irregular rhythms – as the fourth dance change tempo midway – triplet figures and use of rubato common to this style, they are all characterized by sudden contrasts between straitjacket and explosive energy. The two original groups of pieces have somewhat distinct characters: livelier the first and more concentrated in the melancholy aspects of Hungarian music the second. Most of the dances are rapid, full of exuberances and in some cases, as in the famous fifth dance, even after a mercurial tempo, it becomes even more frenzied. No wonder that Wagner, probably with the Hungarian Dances in his mind, wrote with harshness: “I know famous composers that you can meet at concert masquerades, one day in the guise of a ballad singer, the next in Handel’s Hallelujah wig, another time as a Jewish csardas player, and then again as genuine symphonists dressed up as number ten.”