It was two days after the storm that cancelled flights and trains
to much of the Northeast. (Including mine; I barely made it to
Manhattan.) Anne-Sophie Mutter, who just did a recital in Los
Angeles, could have cancelled her trip too, but she is a trooper.
She once played through a hurricane in Kennedy Center, anchoring
two concertoes in one night.

Mutter did not wear a gown; on this cold windy day her strapless
dress was blood-red, embroidered at the top and hemline. It might
be the outfit seen in her recent Schubert album cover, but it
also reminded me of the battle dress of the Cylon assassin No. 6's
in "Battlestar Galactica." Like her couture, Mutter's performance
was subversive and provocative -- a killer.

The concert started audaciously with the world premiere of Andre
Previn's sonata "The Fifth Season," dedicated to the violinist. The
composer was sitting somewhere in the second level balcony. I cannot
claim to remember much of it, haven't heard it before or since, but
for long stretches in the beginning it featured a solo violin
occasionally interrupted by Lambert Orkis' jazzy piano chords. The
slow movement was not as memorable as that in Previn's previous violin
sonata, which famously involves the use of a mute in the slow. But
it was pleasant, and would merit a place in the sonata repertoire.

This short piece smoothly segued into Bach's Partita #2 for violin.
(The program was very thoughtfully put together, showcasing Mutter's unacompanied work.) She often played the "Sarabande" in concert
encores, but to my knowledge has never recorded Bach's solo string
pieces. This night she breezed through the "Allemande" and "Courante"
with silky touches, as though channeling Heifetz; I was a bit
annoyed. But she was just warming up. Starting with the "Sarabande"
she got serious -- white-towel-on-shoulder serious -- and in her
signature style begun playing like she wanted to murder every note
and watch it bleed. The drama and intensity she brought to bear was
stunning. It was succeeded by a lightning fast but emphatic "Gigue."
(Playing faster than the norm in virtuosic movements, but more
deliberately than most musicians in slow passages, has become the
standard in her recitals.) The finale, "Ciaconni," is the most famous
movement in Bach's sonatas and partitas for solo violin, and I could
sense the audience's abated-breath anticipation. Mutter delivered
an overpowering, emotional rendition. It probably did not break
Hilary Hahn's record of 18 minutes, but the sense of brooding drama
and pathos she conveyed brought down the house. She was met with
rounds of pre-intermission ovation. In fact, starting at the midway
point, she must have switched to fortissimo all the way home. I'm
not sure that's way Bach wrote it -- in fact Mutter's rare Bach
performances have faced much criticism from specialists (I wonder
what the late Jim Stoller would have thought of it) -- but we all
loved it. It was a emotionally draining, cathartic experience, perhaps
the centerpiece of the concert.

After the intermission, the theme seemed to be "serenade." Brahms'
sonata #2 is not a virtuosic piece, but it is graceful and song-like.
Instead of a classic fast/slow/fast structure, the three movements
all have varying tempos. The titles "allegro amiabile," "andante
tranquillo -- vivace," and "allegretto graziso" would fit any of
them. I have listened to her recording of this sonata countless
times, and this was the third time I had the honor of hearing her
play it live. It was very much like the rendition I first heard
at Carnegie Hall more than seven years ago, except that she might
have started the first movement more softly, letting the piano
dominate, and ratcheted up the intensity late in the movement.
She does more on volume control than most violinists I know,
probably because dynamics is the prime way to inject variation into
modern atonal music, and she had focused so much energy on those.

It must have been a brave choice to end the concert wth Penderecki's
sonata #2, a long, complex, fiendishly difficult composition. This is
one of Mutter's few recordings I don't own. I spent a week listening
to a Naxos copy and still struggled to follow the performance.
Apparently Penderecki wrote the sonata for Mutter. It started with
long pizzicato passages, and I wondered if this wasn't a private
joke with Mutter, who in my opinion is a bit laissez-faire when it
comes to plucking strings in live performances. (The Brahms sonata
also features plucking; it was really an unusually cohesive program.)
Part of this sonata is like a song; it is amazingly melodic for a
composition written in 2000. But unlike the Brahms, which emphasizes
rich, graceful, low-pitched sound that so flatters Mutter and her
Stradivarius, the Penderecki skews towards the upper octaves. And
part of the piece is extremely agitated, even violent. Starting
with the 12-minute third movement, Mutter draped her violin in
her towel, jammed it into her neck, and slashed away at the beast
with unbridled fury; when finally slayed, it went out with a
strangled wail, rendered with the highest, most pitiful pitch the
violin could convey. Bach's "Ciaconni" was inspired by the death of
one of his wives. What motivated Penderecki's #2 is anyone's guess.

The encore was chosen from her Schubert album, and was appropriately
song-like in the extreme. Schubert's "Staendchen" (D957/4, literally
a "serenade") has at least two violin-and-piano arrangements.
Mutter and Orkis played the infrequently heard version by Mischa
Ellman. (Itzhak Perlman is another violinist who has tried it;
his youtube version is much too fast for my taste, however.) The
piece featured playing on two strings simultaneously and extremely
colorful fingerings; my violinist friend marveled at its difficulty.
It was heart-stoppingly melancholic, perhaps surpassing even the Bach
in its drama and pathos. It could be the single best piece Mutter
had recorded since her 2010 Brahms album. The audience absolutely
erupted. I was astonished that she could switch from the strident
Penderecki to a completely different mood so seamlessly. Violinists
are amazing creatures; among other things, they must be able to
summon different emotions at a moment's notice, like actresses who
cry on demand.

Afterwards I went to the CD signing. Mutter was mobbed but
I managed to chat with Orkis for a few seconds, and urged him to
record the Schubert Fantasia in C, which they played so majestically
in Chicago. Sadly, I don't think it will happen.

(for Jim, and for A.)

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