Review by Simon Jenner, May 14th 2025
Cellist Siriol Hugh-Jones and pianist Stephen Carroll-Turner are both well-known as distinguished soloists on the South coast and further afield. I’ve not heard them together in recital before and it’s a delight to see them perform at St Nicholas in a core repertoire programme.
Beethoven’s Cello Sonata No 4 in C Op 102/1 is a work that like its companion comes from 1815. In other words the compressed, transitional and sometimes unprofitable late-middle years of his career.
Unlike the expansive popular Op 69 in A major, this work, though in ‘white’ C major owns something spectral in its quality. It’s a degree further on from the last Violin Sonata in G Op 96, but there’s a fleetness and occasional raptness that recall it.
More, this work echoes the Piano Sonata in A Op 101. There’s still the same driving motor rhythms but an elliptical development that requires close listening.
There’s two movements of two tempi each. That’s a clue. We start with an Andante that promises expansiveness but even so it moves into an Allegro Vivace shadowed by abrupt changes of tempo as the C major is given a workout.
The following Adagio is the expressive heart of this work, sometimes imitating a drone in the cello against the chirruping piano. Soon though the two instruments coruscate in an Allegro Vivace itself never allowed too much Vivace without eddies of previous movements till all ends in a resolutely cheerful fermata. Hugh-Jones is a warm and firm-toned soloist and Carroll-Turner known for his sovereign pianism is sympathetic and silvery toned here.
Unlike the expansive popular Op 69 in A major, this work, though in ‘white’ C major owns something spectral in its quality. It’s a degree further on from the last Violin Sonata in G Op 96, but there’s a fleetness and occasional raptness that recall it.
More, this work echoes the Piano Sonata in A Op 101. There’s still the same driving motor rhythms but an elliptical development that requires close listening.
There’s two movements of two tempi each. That’s a clue. We start with an Andante that promises expansiveness but even so it moves into an Allegro Vivace shadowed by abrupt changes of tempo as the C major is given a workout.
The following Adagio is the expressive heart of this work, sometimes imitating a drone in the cello against the chirruping piano. Soon though the two instruments coruscate in an Allegro Vivace itself never allowed too much Vivace without eddies of previous movements till all ends in a resolutely cheerful fermata. Hugh-Jones is a warm and firm-toned soloist and Carroll-Turner known for his sovereign pianism is sympathetic and silvery toned here.
Brahms Cello Sonata No 1 in E minor Op 38, unlike it’s joyous F major successor from much later, is one of those works recalling his earlier angst. Dating from around 1863 when Brahms was 30 it bears the scars and doubts of his earlier tyro existence.
Carroll-Turner finds the Brahmsian depth of tone in the piano and Hugh-Jones finds a rich sustained palette the Beethoven wouldn’t afford in its capriciousness. Here after an initial outburst the Allegro non troppo settles into a ruminative regret, its plaint of E minor stretched expressively over spare piano chords into dying falls: that seems tailored for the way exposition repeats intimate obsession, a circling round one’s own grave
And yet Carroll-Turner radiates the brighter piano tones as Brahms seems to rebuke himself and rises taking the cello with the keyboard, though to a new expressive cry. It’s terrific playing, ending in a return to the opening with a few sidelights: wholly Brahmsian in feel and temper. The fining down of volume and quiet radiance is magically conveyed.
The Allegretto quasi Menuetto is in itself a relief – its title proclaims it. Yet it never does to take Brahms on trust. There’s slight mischief in this, a sort of stretto, even alla Marcia is hinted. The Menuetto is in the lightness and pint. It doesn’t last too long before Brahms subjects this wisp of a minute (as he joked about his Scherzo in his Piano Concerto No 2) to done variations, where expressive warmth is found in agogic hesitations and a kind of hurdy-gurdy feel to this movement. There’s a touch of Rondo about it, yet it’s stuck in the middle with a great Allegro to come.
Hugh-Jones and Carroll-Turner enjoy the chiaroscuro of all that. Playful light and shade, pointing up the set of variations that underpins it all. There’s even a wry smile to this movement, perhaps a joy recalled. It ends impishly yet nearly.
The Allegro finale calls back E minor with resolution and independence. This is the first movement’s mood involved with a defiance and threw that’s new. Sone of this recalls – or prophesies – some of Brahms’ scherzos, including the one mentioned above. Though hardly joyful it takes light from the Menuetto and infuses the development with a sort of gnarly optimism.
It’s exciting too in these soloists hands. The working-out and final hard-won triumph is exhilarating. First class performances, idiomatic and immensely satisfying.