Zoltán Kodály
Sonata for Solo Cello, Op. 8 (1915)
Duo for Violin and Cello, Op. 7 (1914)
Jerry Grossman (cello)
Daniel Phillips (violin)
Recorded at the American Academy of Arts and Letters, New York City, October 1983
WARNER APEX 7559 79672 2 [59:09]
Kodály’s early works for string instruments — here, the Sonata for Solo Cello and the Duo for Violin and Cello — inhabit a fascinating crossroads where folk idioms jostle, sometimes awkwardly yet often magnificently, with rigorous formalism.
This Apex release, recorded some forty years ago but sounding remarkably fresh, offers a rare glimpse into those formative years when Kodály, alongside his friend and occasional collaborator Bartók, was mining Magyar folk music for its raw, elemental power. Jerry Grossman’s cello tone immediately commands attention: it’s rich, resonant, with a honeyed warmth that refuses to blur the edges of line and gesture. The instrument’s sonority fills the acoustic space with a grand sweep even in moments of hushed delicacy — especially in the Sonata’s opening movement, where the cello’s romantic yearning, almost Brahmsian in its breadth, is refracted through a prism of austere intervals—fourths and fifths—that subtly remind us of Kodály’s ethnomusicological roots.
And yet, this is no mere pastiche. Grossman’s phrasing never allows the music to settle into nostalgia. There is a palpable tension—between lyricism and austerity, between tradition and modernity—that keeps the music alive and unpredictable.
The Sonata moves with a purposeful gravitas, its architecture clear and compelling; one senses the composer’s strict formal procedures binding the work, yet never stifling its expressive range. The "finale", marked Allegro molto vivace, bursts forth with thrilling virtuosity. Grossman is at full stretch here, negotiating the rapid passages with muscularity and — well — precision — you can almost hear the wooden body of the cello vibrating under the strain, the strings singing on the edge of their tensile limits.
That particular brightness of period instruments catches the ear.
Daniel Phillips, paired with Grossman in the Duo for Violin and Cello, matches his partner with instinctive responsiveness. The Duo is a masterclass in textural variety: Kodály conjures orchestral effects from just two instruments, weaving contrapuntal lines that sometimes recall a Bartók string quartet in miniature. The second movement’s Adagio is a study in suppressed passion, its brooding intensity captured in Phillips’s warm, singing violin tone and Grossman’s weighty, expressive depth.
The "finale" snaps back to life with invigorating rhythmic energy — syncopations and folk dance-like gestures that feel both playful and fiercely driven. Their interplay is one of the disc’s strengths: the give-and-take, the mutual shaping of phrases, the subtle balancing of melodic and harmonic roles — — all suggest musicians deeply attuned not only to the notes but to the stylistic nuances and historical resonances Kodály embedded in the score. The recording itself, a product of the Apex budget series but with sound quality that rivals pricier releases, is a revelation: natural, spacious, and intimate, it manages to capture the cello’s bloom without sacrificing clarity, and the violin’s clarity without sterility.
One might quibble that the performances, while authoritative, occasionally smooth over the rougher edges in Kodály’s writing — — a certain rawness inherent in the folk-inspired idioms feels tamed here, perhaps in deference to tonal beauty. Yet this is a minor reservation in an otherwise compelling interpretation. Ultimately, this release is more than a bargain; it’s a vital document.
It invites listeners beyond the more familiar Bartók canon into Kodály’s distinctive voice — one that merges scholarly rigor with heartfelt lyricism and rhythmic vitality. For those willing to embrace music that challenges as much as it rewards, this album is indispensable. Grossman and Phillips offer not just performances, but stewardship of works that deserve far wider recognition.
In sum: an outstanding edition, musically and sonically, that affirms Kodály’s place among the great early twentieth-century modernists — and confirms Apex as a budget series with serious artistic credentials. Don’t hesitate.
