What do you do when, as a young composer, you write a piece of music that is so beloved that everyone discounts anything you write afterward? While this may seem like a “good” problem to have, for some composers, it becomes a lifelong project to convince the public that they still have more to offer. Beethoven’s early chamber work, the Septet, Op. 20, was so popular that Beethoven struggled to get audiences to accept his later, more audacious music. So irritated was he by the continual praise for the Septet, that he even occasionally claimed that it been penned by Mozart. Gustav Holst grew to despise the intense popularity of his work The Planets, once commenting that “Every artist ought to pray that he may not be a success.” Even Edward Elgar grew annoyed that his wildly popular Pomp and Circumstance March No. 1, still played at countless graduation ceremonies today, overshadowed much of his later work. Add to this list of composers afflicted by early success the gifted Max Bruch who, despite having composed over 200 works, remains most famous for his extraordinary, melodic, virtuosic, highly romantic, and stubbornly popular Violin Concerto No. 1.
Born in Cologne, Germany, in 1838, Bruch was a precocious child who began composing at age nine. He began work on his First Violin Concerto in 1857 at age 19, although he would not complete it until 1865. Its premiere that year was unsuccessful, however, and it was clear to Bruch that the work needed revision. To help with that, he sought the advice of the esteemed violinist Joseph Joachim, who helped rework the concerto and gave the premiere of the revised version in 1868. (Joachim would provide the same assistance to Brahms a few years later, when Brahms was struggling with the composition of his own Violin Concerto.) Bruch’s concerto, in the revised version, was an immediate success, lauded for it soaring melodies and virtuosic writing for the violin. Joachim himself, who was largely responsible for bringing concertos by Beethoven, Mendelssohn, and Brahms to popularity, declared that of the four works, the Bruch was by far “the richest, the most seductive of the lot.”
The form of the concerto is somewhat unusual, as the first two movements are connected, with the first movement serving more as a prelude to the more substantial second movement. (The first movement’s title, Vorspiel, actually means “prelude.”) The work opens provocatively as woodwinds provide a gentle introduction, answered by a pensive cadenza from the solo violin. This repeats with more urgency before the main body of the movement begins. A fiercely dramatic first theme, replete with soaring double stops (playing two notes simultaneously), is followed by a tender, more reflective second theme showing Bruch’s extraordinary gift for melody. The first theme returns, followed quickly by a grandiose orchestral interlude. When the drama subsides, we are returned to the opening introductory music, this time with more fire in the solo part. It is short-lived, however, as we transition directly to the second movement of the concerto. The glorious Adagio features a tender, highly romantic melody that allows the violinist full rein to display their expressive gifts. The music swells and soars as the orchestra and soloist trade rapturous and regal moments in the spotlight. The tempo picks up and the energy surges as the finale begins. This movement is a joyous, yet notoriously difficult romp, alternating between a fiendishly acrobatic first theme and a soaring, passionate second theme. The ending is electrifying as soloist and orchestra race together to a fiery conclusion.
Bruch would go on to write two more violin concertos, as well as the beautiful Scottish Fantasy for violin and orchestra and the moving Kol Nidrei for cello and orchestra, but his reputation as a traditionalist, as well as the fact that his career overlapped with that of Brahms, meant that much of his output did not receive the recognition it deserved. Although he may have come to rue the First Violin Concerto’s popularity (possibly due to the fact that he didn’t earn royalties from performances, having sold the work to a publisher), surely even Bruch would be pleased to know that this glorious work continues to challenge violinists and thrill audiences some 150 years on.
Program notes by © Betsy Hudson Traba 2025