“Would you please write me a violin concerto? A truly original one, full of melodies and written for good violinists? Please, drop me a line!”

These words in a letter from the publisher Simrock to , dated January 27, 1879, resulted in the composition of his Violin Concerto in A minor. Although Dvořák concluded the work towards the end of the summer of 1879, after completing his exceedingly successful Slavonic Dances, a further four years would pass before the violin concerto finally appeared in print and actually received its première. With his reference to “good violinists”, Simrock (ever on the lookout for a good business deal) probably had one person in particular in mind: Joseph Joachim. Two years previously, this violinist – who nowadays would enjoy the status of a megastar – had “launched” the violin concerto written by Johannes Brahms, following a period of intensive collaboration with the composer. So it seemed only logical that Dvořák – who was now also gaining an international reputation – would write the next concerto specifically for the famous virtuoso. During the summer, Dvořák and Joachim spent some “pleasant and delightful moments” together in Berlin. It seemed as if nothing would stand in the way of a rewarding and steady collaboration. Thus in the autumn of 1879, Joachim received the manuscript of the concerto. However, apart from his thanks for the dedication, his reaction was mainly to send back a list of requests for massive changes in both the formal structure of the work and the solo violin part. After meeting personally with him in April 1880, Dvořák decided to fundamentally revise the work, which he concluded the following May. Joachim’s words must have had a significant effect on Dvořák, as the latter wrote the following to Simrock: “I have revised the entire concerto, not a single bar have I retained”. The second version was again sent to Joachim – however, the violinist did not react. At least, not straight away. Finally, some two years later in August 1882, the answer arrived. Once again with requests for changes, which Dvořák implemented without complaint. (The well-known Dvořák-scholar, Klaus Döge, described Joachim’s conduct quite drastically as “downright neglectful”.) Following a concert held in Berlin (which was not accessible to the general public) in which Joachim gave a performance of the work, further cuts were planned. They were the last. In 1883, Simrock published the concerto, which finally received its première in Prague that year, on October 14. And the soloist was … František Ondříček! So no trace of Joseph Joachim, who had played a leading role in the shaping of the composition. In fact, despite being the dedicatee of the concerto, Joachim never even played the work in public... A very peculiar end to a long story.
Although the labour pains involved in the composition of the work are not audible, it definitely demands to be performed by “good violinists”. The construction of the work is traditional, on the whole; however, the inner structure presents solutions that are absolutely unique to the composer. Thus, for example, in the first movement Dvořák combines elements from the sonata form with a rondo. The first theme begins unisono in the striking orchestral tutti, after which the solo violin immediately takes over the cantabile postscript. The extremely abbreviated “recapitulation” is followed by a transition, which immediately leads into the Adagio. Here, the violin takes over: tranquil, cantabile, almost melancholy, yet with caution. The ensuing Finale in A major is geared entirely to national dances: together, the furiant and the dumka provide an interplay of turbulent and lyrical sections.
Dvořák’s Romance in F minor, Op. 11 dates from 1877. It received its première in Prague on December 9, 1877, and was dedicated to Dvořák’s “dear friend František Ondříček”. The work was not originally written for “concert performance”, to quote Dvořák in a letter to Simrock; rather, it was an arrangement of the slow movement from his String Quartet in F minor. The mainly lyrical character of the work is written in three-part Lied-form, and provides the soloist with the opportunity to display both his cantabile and virtuoso talents.

Karol Szymanowski (1882 – 1937) was born in the Ukraine to prosperous parents, and grew up in highly artistic surroundings. As a result of extended trips to, for example, Berlin and Vienna at the beginning of the 20th century, the young Szymanowski – who had already presented to the public highly virtuoso piano compositions around the turn of the century – was noticeably influenced by German composers of the late-Romantic era, such as Reger and Strauss. Later on, the impressionist compositions of Ravel became important to him, and his intensive study of ancient Mediterranean cultures and oriental mystique shaped his further works. That Szymanowski once again raised the music of Poland from its backwardly provincial status to an international level is most definitely a direct result of his work in the field of Polish folk music and folklore following the First World War. In both his opera King Roger and his Stabat mater, he created a new Polish idiom.
Szymanowski’s Violin Concerto No. 1, Op. 35, dating from 1916, has come a long way from the romance of Dvořák’s composition. As are all his other violin works (!), it was written for his friend Pawel Kochański. However, following his emigration to the USA, Kochański was not able to give the première of the work, and thus Jozef Oziminski was the soloist in Warsaw on the evening of November 1, 1922. Szymanowski wrote the following to Kochański in the USA: “The sound is so magical that the people here seemed frozen to the spot. And Pawelczek, just imagine, the violin comes out on top the whole time!” Kochański knew what he was talking about; after all, he had given Szymanowski all kinds of advice and support while the composer was completing the solo part. Shortly after the première, the Violin Concerto was already considered a masterpiece, and yet even today, it does not yet have the status allotted to other 20th-century masterpieces in this genre.
Luckily, a new generation of excellent violinists has taken it upon itself to promote this work, in order to re-establish it in the concert repertoire world-wide. Even if the structure of the violin concerto may seem rather arbitrary (if not without structure!) upon first hearing, one is forced to acknowledge rapidly that the one-movement form is, in fact, meant simply to provide a handy precondition for the unbelievable lyrical power, the enormously distinctive expressive will and the ecstasy of this music. Here, the primary factor is not the presentation and development of themes or variations, or the contrapuntal finishing touch. Rather, Szymanowski creates varying colourful worlds, allows non-thematic sound-fields to come up against tautly rhythmic sections – and allots the violin its place under the sun. Continuously, the solo part soars (and sings) high above the orchestra, as if improvised; it produces bird-calls, revels in sumptuous coloratura. Here, the listener senses a direct link to Tadeusz Miciński’s poem May Night, by which Szymanowski had apparently been inspired. To be sure, this is not programme music, but rather a musical translation of poetic inspiration in the form of a free fantasy. The orchestra employed is so large that the listener almost fears for the soloist: however, the subtle sound textures, reminiscent of Debussy and Ravel, soon disperse this fear. “Good violinists” can well assert themselves.

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