26/03/2025 Kryštof Kohout (violin) and Findlay Spence (cello)

Luboš Fišer’s Sonata for Violin and Piano “Hands” was a pivotal work in establishing his reputation as one of the most forward-thinking Czech composers of the late 20th century. Though widely celebrated for his evocative film scores, Fišer’s concert music is equally striking, often filled with a strong programmatic essence.

Originally titled Crux, the piece was renamed to avoid religious connotations under Czechoslovakia’s restrictive cultural policies imposed by the communist regime. Instead, Fišer chose Hands, after a poem by Otokar Březina, a title that aligned with the socialist ideals of labor and human perseverance. Yet beneath this surface lies a deeper, more dramatic narrative and in line with the originally intended title, the work can be interpreted as a depiction of the Stations of the Cross, from torment and suffering to a solemn funeral march (pizzicato) and, finally, a resplendent apotheosis evoking the sound of bells.

Roxanna Panufnik composed Hora Bessarabia for the 2016 Menuhin Violin Competition celebrating the violinist’s centenary. The work draws on the rich traditions of Jewish folk music and Eastern European Romani melodies—both of which deeply influenced Menuhin throughout his life. The slower sections evoke the improvisatory style of a Romanian Doina, with the violin imitating the ornamentation and timbres of folk instruments like the cimbalom. In contrast, the energetic Hora sections grow increasingly virtuosic, driven by vivid, poised rhythms in varying meters that build to a dazzling, spirited finale.

Dvořák composed his Ballade in D minor in the autumn of 1884, intended for the Christmas edition of the London Magazine of Music. At this point in his career, his international reputation was quickly growing and many commissions from England were coming in. Though much more modest in scale than his Seventh Symphony, written shortly after, the Ballade shares something of its tragic tone and emotional depth. The violin’s reflective opening melody carries a sense of longing, and in its expressive contours, one might even hear a glimpse of the style Janáček would later develop.

György Kurtág’s Signs, Games and Messages is a collection of miniatures—each a distilled fragment of memory, emotion, or musical gesture. Within this kaleidoscope of expression, Doloroso stands out for its sparseness and fragility. Though barely more than a whisper, it carries immense emotional weight, creating a moment of stillness and introspection. Its quiet intensity lingers, offering a deeply human pause amidst the surrounding music.

In 1943, while living in the U.S. and struggling with poor health, Béla Bartók was commissioned by Yehudi Menuhin to write a work for solo violin. Deeply moved by Menuhin’s performances of his Violin Concerto No. 2 and Violin Sonata No. 1, Bartók found inspiration in the violinist’s deep connection to both Bach’s solo sonatas and the Eastern European folk traditions that had shaped his own music. The result was the Sonata for Solo Violin, a work that fuses raw folk energy with the composer’s inspirations in baroque style and J. S. Bach in particular, manifested in the deep mastery of form, harmony and counterpoint.

The second movement, Fuga, opens in a traditional strict imitative manner, yet it quickly takes on a freer, more dramatic character. Bartók’s approach to polyphony is bold and full of character as well as meticulously analytical. The fragmented fugue subject, punctuated by silences, allows for extensive thematic expansion, creating a movement that is both rigorous and expressive, deeply rooted in tradition yet striking as revolutionary.

Romance élégiaque by the renowned Czech violinist and composer Váša Příhoda is a beautifully expressive work that showcases his deep affinity for lyrical writing. Infused with late-Romantic harmonic language and sensibility, the piece unfolds in long, singing phrases, rich colours, and delicate rubato, evoking both nostalgia and quiet yearning. While Příhoda was celebrated for his dazzling virtuosity resemblant of Paganini, Romance élégiaque highlights his gift for melodic elegance and emotional nuance. Příhoda worked   making it a gem in the violin repertoire.

Composed in the year Richard Strauss met his future wife, soprano Pauline de Ahna, the Violin Sonata overflows with passion and lyricism—most strikingly in its rhapsodic Improvisation, a movement so beloved that Strauss later published it separately. The outer movements, set in the heroic key of E-flat major exude confidence and brilliance, tempered by moments of darkness. The first movement is rich and exuberant, with bold metric shifts and profound lyricism. The finale begins with a hushed piano prelude in the minor, perhaps the darkest moment in the entire sonata, before erupting into a stormy yet majestic main theme. Throughout the movement Strauss weaves together strong motifs, soaring lyricism and sparkling interplay between the two instruments. Written just before Don Juan, Death and Transfiguration, and Macbeth, the sonata foreshadows the dense textures and dramatic sweep of Strauss’s great tone poems, while retaining the instrumental sparkle of his earlier works.

Pàdruig Morrison Fadhail

Fadhail is inspired by fords (tidal sea channels). There are fords not far from my house which my father and grandfather navigated weekly each summer to fish for lobsters in the Atlantic, as well as to go from the island of Grimsay to neighbouring North Uist and Benbecula. It’s a challenging bit of sea to sail as the channel, which is carved out by the water currents from the sand, moves every year; sometimes to the north of a rock, sometimes to the south. With increasing extreme weather events, they will change even more from one year to the next. Additionally, the ford cannot be sailed with charts or modern navigational equipment due to its depth – it requires knowledge which has been learned by fishermen over generations, and this, like much indigenous knowledge, will soon fade from memory as the tradition bearers pass away. Furthermore, traditions, cultures, and languages in coastal communities (the world over) are forecast to lose the most according to current climate projections. The sustainable creel fishing, founded on intergenerational indigenous knowledge and an industry which continues a living Gaelic tradition, would be one such loss. – Programme note by Pàdruig Morrison

Aaron Jay Kernis Air for Cello and Piano

Air is a love letter to the violin. Songlike and lyrical, it opens up a full range of the instrument’s expressive and poignant possibilities. Composed with two main themes and open in harmony, the first poses melodic questions and their response, while the second is very still, rising ever-upward into the highest range of the violin. Following a middle section of dramatic intensity it cycles back to the themes in reverse, developing each along the way, and ending quietly after a final plaintive ascent. Air is dedicated to pianist Evelyne Luest, the composer’s wife, and was composed in 1995 for violinist Joshua Bell. Since it’s premiere it has been arranged in many versions with solo instrument and orchestra, chamber ensemble or piano. – Programme note by Aaron Jay Kernis

Simon Holt feet of clay

I was approached by the cellist Ulrich Heinen, at about the time of the first performance of ‘Boots of Lead’ (a setting I made of Emily Dickinson’s ‘I felt a funeral in my brain’ for alto and ensemble, commissioned by the Birmingham Contemporary Music Group and their Sound Investors scheme), to write a solo piece for cello. I knew immediately that this had to be a challenging piece, and one that would stretch Uli’s playing as far as possible. Uli had played in several of my pieces with BCMG and I’d always enjoyed his seemingly effortless musicianship coupled with the incredibly compelling intensity of sound that he brings to everything he plays. It was his presence when playing that gave me the idea of the hero being at the centre of the discourse, however. The cello is traditionally seen as being the instrument that comes closest to sounding like the human voice and I suppose I wanted to see if I could make an attempt at redefining this aspect of the instrument’s nature. Consequently, the piece begins with a kind of cri de coeur. There’s a strong sense of the heroic about the piece and the piece unfolds like a dramatic scena: a hero returns and tells the tale of how the battle was won. But, was the victory pyrrhic? – Programme note by Simon Holt

Anna Thorvaldsdottir Hvolf

Anna Thorvaldsdottir is a unique and leading voice in contemporary music, known for her atmospheric soundscapes that blend natural and instrumental textures. An Icelandic composer, her music often evokes vast landscapes, geological forces, and organic processes of growth and decay.

The title, Hvolf, translates to ‘vault’ or ‘dome’ in Icelandic, suggesting both architectural and celestial imagery around the curvature of the sky. The piece builds an austere and layered sound world, where sustained tones, fragile harmonies and deep pulse create a sense of suspended time. The music moves like shifting clouds or tectonic plates—gradual yet full of latent energy.

The original vocal text consists of shards of Icelandic language (embrace, night choir, streaked northern lights, cold-footed angel, praying…), evoking a feeling of great loneliness on an ice plain beneath the Northern Lights. The work invites deep listening, drawing the audience into a space where sound seems to breathe and evolve organically. It is a piece that does not unfold in traditional melodic phrases but instead sculpts an aural landscape, inviting the listener to enter a realm of contemplation and quiet intensity.

James MacMillan Cello Sonata No. 1
i. Face
ii. Image

The work was commissioned by the Bath and Queensland Biennial Festivals of 1999 and specially written for its dedicatee Raphael Wallfisch. The most important element in the Sonata’s two movements is the interval of a minor 3^rd, from which emerges much of the music’s material and which binds the ideas together.

The first movement Face begins with a lyrical, cantabile melody for the cello accompanied by delicate trills, shimmering tremolandi and scurrying scales on the piano. The cello gradually descends to its lowest register with a brooding and introspective theme. Against this the piano has a completely contrasting idea – an innocent and simple theme like a child’s clockwork musical toy.

The cello writing becomes faster, evoking the dance lilt of a jig, but the piano gradually becomes more ominous. This leads to a central “fantasy” section of violence and brutality with strange, surprising sounds coming from both instruments.

Another dance-like episode follows for pizzicato cello, punctuated by brittle clusters on the piano. Towards the end of this section a short, keening, two-note figure emerges and provides the basis of the final section. The cello rises anxiously and expressively using only five notes (across a number of octaves) while the piano material is based on a martial idea that becomes increasingly agitated. The climax of this interaction leads to a short coda in which the music winds down through a number of earlier ideas.

The second movement Image is a mirror image of Face. The structural procession of elements is inverted, and the roles of the instruments are reversed. Even some of the themes are retrograded. The coda brings the music back to the melodic and tonal simplicities of the opening bars of the first movement, before fading serenely to nothing. – Programme note by James MacMillan