Johannes BRAHMS (1833-1897)
Sonata in F minor for Clarinet and Piano, Op. 120 No. 1 (1894) [22:17]
Sonata in E-flat major for Clarinet and Piano, Op. 120 No. 2 (1894) [21:55]
Jessie MONTGOMERY (b. 1981)
Peace, version for Clarinet and Piano (2020) [4:38]
Carl Maria von WEBER (1786-1826)
Grand Duo Concertant, Op. 48 (1816) [18:02]
Anthony McGill (clarinet)
Gloria Chien (piano)
rec. 31 October-2 November, 2020, Mechanics Hall, Worcester MA
Reviewed as 16-bit download from press preview
CEDILLE CDR90000207 [67:15]
The clarinet came late to Brahms—and thank heaven for Richard Mühlfeld. Without that Meiningen virtuoso’s dark, plangent tone catching the composer’s ear in 1891, we wouldn’t have these two sonatas, written in the summer of 1894 at Bad Ischl. They’re valedictory works, certainly, but not in any morbid sense. Rather, they show Brahms at his most distilled, his most inward—chamber music that breathes with an autumnal warmth even as it looks backward to the contrapuntal rigors of an earlier age.
Anthony McGill and Gloria Chien understand this implicitly. Their Cedille release (though curiously labeled as BIS in the metadata—someone’s having database troubles) captures performances of exceptional beauty and intelligence, recorded in the sympathetic acoustic of Worcester’s Mechanics Hall. McGill’s tone has none of the reedy astringency that can make the clarinet tiresome in extended doses; instead, he produces a sound of remarkable roundness and bloom, particularly in the lower register where Brahms so often dwells.
The F minor Sonata opens with that wonderful rising gesture, half question, half sigh. McGill shapes it with exquisite care, and Chien—whose partnership here proves ideal—provides harmonic shading of great subtlety. Listen to how they handle the transition into the development section: there’s real conversation here, not mere accompaniment. The Andante un poco Adagio that follows (marked “sostenuto” in some editions, though Brahms himself was inconsistent) unfolds with patient dignity. McGill resists any temptation to over-sweeten the line, and the result is all the more moving for its restraint.
Where this rendition particularly distinguishes itself is in matters of color and texture. The Allegretto grazioso third movement—that tender intermezzo in A-flat—receives playing of wonderful lightness, the clarinet’s staccato articulation crisp but never brittle. And in the finale’s variations on a theme that could have come straight from a Baroque passacaglia, McGill and Chien trace the architecture with clarity while never losing sight of the expressive content. The sixth variation, where Brahms suddenly shifts to F major and the clarinet soars into its highest register, emerges with radiant warmth.
The E-flat Sonata has always seemed to me the more immediately appealing of the pair, though perhaps the less profound. Its opening Allegro amabile proceeds with an ease and geniality that belie its contrapuntal sophistication—Brahms was studying Bach chorales intensively during this period, and it shows. McGill’s phrasing here is exemplary: long-breathed, naturally inflected, never metronomic. The Allegro appassionato second movement, with its almost Schumannesque agitation, crackles with energy, though I wonder if they might have pushed the tempo just a hair more. The Andante con moto variations that conclude the work receive playing of great intelligence, each transformation clearly characterized.
How do these performances stack up against the competition? David Shifrin and Carol Rosenberger on Delos (DE 3025) offer slightly broader tempos and a more overtly Romantic approach; Jon Manasse and Jon Nakamatsu on Harmonia Mundi bring technical polish but less tonal warmth. McGill and Chien find a middle path that honors both the music’s expressive depth and its classical proportions.
The Weber Grand Duo Concertant makes an apt coupling—this is the work that essentially established the clarinet-piano duo as a viable genre. Written in 1816, it shows Weber at his most operatically inclined, all bravura and theatrical gesture. McGill dispatches the technical challenges with apparent ease, though I confess I find Weber’s rhetoric a bit hollow after the profundity of Brahms. Still, it’s handsomely done, and Chien proves herself equally adept at Weber’s more extroverted piano writing.
Jessie Montgomery’s “Peace” (2020) provides a brief contemporary interlude. Originally for string quartet, the work translates well to clarinet and piano, its modal harmonies and gently rocking rhythms creating a meditative space. At under five minutes, it’s more palate cleanser than main course, but McGill’s singing tone makes a compelling case for it.
The recorded sound deserves mention: warm, present, with outstanding balance between the instruments. Mechanics Hall’s acoustic provides just enough resonance without blurring detail. The 16-bit download I auditioned sounded entirely satisfactory, though I suspect the full-resolution files would reveal even more of McGill’s tonal nuance.
This is clarinet playing of the highest order—technically assured, musically perceptive, tonally radiant. If you want more extroverted, risk-taking interpretations of these Brahms sonatas, look elsewhere. But for performances that honor the music’s autumnal introspection while maintaining structural clarity and expressive warmth, McGill and Chien have given us something quite special. Strongly recommended.
