There is most certainly something entrancing about the music of Johannes Brahms’ Piano Trios that draws a sigh from the depths
of its listeners’ hearts and heavy tears to fall from their laden eyes. Piano Trio No. 1 in B major Op. 8, and Piano Trio No. 2 in C major Op. 87 possess an almost magical ability to create simple progressions of notes that strike universal chords within its equally translucent and heart-broken audience. The moment I heard the opening theme of Brahms’ early piano trio of 1854, I could do nothing more than sit in complete stillness and surrender to the entrancing sounds. Unfortunately, his compositions are not often performed because of their remorseless obscurity and dark tone. The B major Op. 8 begins with great force during the 10 minutes and 47 seconds of the Allegro con brio. The theme of this
movement is hurled at its listeners with an orchestral-like subtlety of character. The beauty of its slow and flowing movement remains with its listeners far after the work concludes, as the Opus transitions into the fast paced Scherzo-Allegro molto movement.
In the B major’s opening Allegro, the violinist and cellist offer a lovely, evenly blended sound with the pianist. The richness of the piano, the sweetness of the violin, and the overall warmth and energetic charge of their blend seems to be kept in sync with Brahms’ intent, as I understand it to be. Much, if not all, of Brahms’ instrumental dialogue in his Piano Trios is a reflection of his emotional state, which is one of romantic angst and despair. This is further highlighted in the C major’s andante with the rise, fall and sigh of the piano line. It is not until one compares this musical collection of piano trios to those of a differing time period and
composer, however, that their true enjoyment can be rightfully appreciated.
Nikos Skalkottas, the first Greek composer to adopt the twelve-tone system, composed a compilation world/folk CD of cello works and piano trios in 2003. Skalkottas chose Kitsapoules to play the cello for his pieces, Asteriedou on piano and Demertzis on violin. The CD begins with a three movement Piano Trio (Andante-Allegro guisto-Andante, Thema con variazioni, and Molto vivace), transitions into a Largo for Cello and Piano (a fairly slow and broad tempo piece), Bolero for Cello and Piano (a Spanish dance in triple time that involves foot-stamping and dramatic posing), Serenata for Cello and Piano (a choral work popular during the 18th century, often based on a religious text and having solos and duets), Sonatina for Cello and Piano (short, technically undemanding piece of music for cello and piano that consists of three movements), a Tender Melody for Cello and Piano, and concludes with 8 Variations for Piano Trio (on a Greek folk tune). While combining the same medium as Brahms (the piano, cello, and violin), the similarities between Brahms and Skalkotta’s musical style abruptly ends there.
The Naxos Music Reviewer characterizes Skalkotta’s music as having a highly personal approach to atonality, into which he incorporates elements of traditional Greek folk music. This is especially evident, as a first time listener of Skalkotta, in the last piece of his CD, 8 Variations for Piano Trio (on a Greek folk tune). Atonality is, literally, the absence of key. Atonality in music is defined as notes that are not related by any mode or key. Upon further investigation of the society in which Skalkotta composed these works, it is evident that the rise of Nazism, which led him to return from Berlin (where he studied music) to Greece in 1933, where the conservative musical climate was hostile towards contemporary music, first profoundly influenced his unique, and arguably chaotic, musical style. This CD gives listeners an opportunity to experience the composer’s concerns with a folkloric gist and modernistic fashion in a personal arrangement. Skalkottas’s inquisitive approach to composition is palpable in this varied program; his highly individual way of applying the theories he learned in Berlin under Weill and Schoenberg to the musical tradition of Greece can, for instance, be intensely sampled in the 8 Variations for Piano Trio from 1938. According to Mudi, the International Record Review calls this disc “superb” and “an important and strongly recommendable set” that is “not less than wonderful.” I, on the other hand, had a significantly different opinion.
Skalkotta’s music can be defined as containing ear-tickling textures. Some of the melodies lodge themselves in the mind, but it ultimately sounds like ‘composer’s music.’ By the latter statement, I am insinuating that I personally conceive Skalkotta’s CD to be technically brilliant, but a little soulless and with undesirable, constant note-spinning. The Largo movement has a long-breathed opening melody which is certainly memorable, but I got the sense that the composer was too much in love with the material to be ruthless with the formality of his extravagance. The finale, 8 Variations for Piano Trio, is tighter and gives a better balance to the mix of instruments, emerging with a little wit and irony. As a whole, I cannot say that I agree with the International Record Review and consider the CD to be particularly pleasing to the ear, but I can form an appreciation for what it is, as an expression of the German, anti-contemporary society from which it hailed.