Arnold Bax (1883–1953) is a composer whose chamber music, quite frankly, has not made as strong an impression on me as have his large-scaled tone poems and symphonic works. His clutch of sonatas for violin and piano (the others are taken up by these same players on a companion Naxos disc, 8.570094) is no exception; and judging by the lack of enthusiasm violinists have shown in them as evidenced by the paucity of recordings, apparently I am not alone.
This new release, however, is unique in that it offers up the E-Major Sonata in its twice revised 1920 and 1945 version, along with the world premiere recording of Bax’s original 1910 second and third movements that he subsequently jettisoned. The work opens in that typical English, Celtic-flavored pastoral style that often colors the music of other composers that have, fairly or unfairly, been labeled or libeled as belonging to the “cow and pasture” school of English pastoralists, such as Vaughan Williams, Butterworth, Gurney, and Delius. But the mood doesn’t last long; for it is soon overtaken by music of a more restless and ruffled nature. The program note tells us that the Sonata was inspired by a passionate but short-lived love affair between Bax and a Ukrainian girl named Natalia Skarginska in the winter of 1909–10. If so, the resulting score is closer to Janáček’s angst-ridden, desperate, and despairing love twitchings than it is to, say, Elgar’s effusive, romantic outpourings. The two movements Bax wrote to replace the Sonata’s second and third movements are not reworkings of the original material, but entirely new.
The Sonata No. 3 dates from 1927, and contains music of an entirely different character. I am not familiar enough with Bax’s biography to know if he ever met or was familiar with the work of Bartók, or vice-versa. But much of the concluding Allegro molto movement of this two-movement sonata exhibits both the signature of a Hungarian folk dance and the driving rhythmic propulsion heard in many of Bartók’s works. The question is which came first, or who was the originator and who the imitator? Of the two sonatas on the disc, the No. 3 strikes me as the more musically interesting, the more tightly constructed, and the more effective. The No. 1, whether in its revised form or with its original movements restored, comes across, to me at least, as an exercise in having not much to say but in saying it anyway, and at great a length; it rambles on for 32 minutes.
Technically, these are challenging scores to play; and together Laurence Jackson and Ashley Wass, without making them sound easy, manage not to make them sound effortful. In other words, they’ve taken the time to learn them well, and to present them with professional polish and committed sounding playing. Perhaps further listening will change my impression, but for now these sonatas are not likely to show up on my list of favorite works for violin and piano. Recommended, nonetheless, for excellent performances and to those Bax fans who might wish to explore beyond his more widely recorded orchestral output.