Henryk Wieniawski
Concerto for Violin and Orchestra No. 1 in F sharp minor, op. 14

There is no doubt among experts: Henryk Wieniawski’s First Violin Concerto is one of the most challenging of all – a true “finger-breaker” that demands the utmost from the soloist, not only in fingering, but also in bowing technique. Wieniawski was only 17 when he composed it in 1852, yet he was already something of an “old hand”. At the age of seven, he had given his first public concert in his native Poland; by thirteen, he had embarked on an international concert career as a traveling virtuoso. His reception was immediate and enthusiastic: following the death of the “devil’s violinist” Niccolò Paganini in 1840, the musical world was eager for a worthy successor – and found one in the young Polish virtuoso, who tirelessly toured the concert halls of Europe. As Wieniawski was keen to showcase his extraordinary skills, he created a repertoire to match. His Concerto in F sharp minor, which received its premiere on 27 October 1853 with the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra under Ferdinand David, was just such a work – one that few besides the composer himself dared to attempt for many years to come.

At first, everything seems to proceed as expected, with an orchestral introduction of approximately three minutes presenting the two principal themes: the clarinet begins, followed by the oboe, introducing a melancholy motif that is soon taken up by the full orchestra. This is followed by the lyrical second theme, suffused with yearning, immediately revealing why Wieniawski was often compared to Chopin. One might think: how wonderful – this could continue forever. But with the entry of the solo violin, a new chapter begins. The violin makes its entrance with intricate double stops, rendered particularly tricky by their sharply dotted rhythm. The two principal themes dominate the musical discourse, but the solo violin embellishes, varies, and develops them with breathtaking virtuosity. Wieniawski soars into the highest registers, ventures daring leaps, and delivers fearsome cascades of double stops. Meanwhile, the orchestra’s role is largely to provide a comfortable sonic backdrop for the violin diva.

The slow movement that follows is entirely different. Wieniawski titled it Preghiera (Prayer), modelling it on the prayer scenes then fashionable in operas such as Rossini’s Otello or Weber’s Freischütz. The solo violin assumes the role of a singer, intoning a deeply felt, inward, and simple melody. Interestingly, Wieniawski keeps the violin’s part almost entirely in its lower register – nothing artificial, contrived, or overly dramatic here, just music that speaks from the heart. But with the finale, a rondo, Wieniawski makes another abrupt turn. Here, he ignites a dazzling alla polacca dance, full of syncopated rhythms, sending the violin fluttering into sparkling high notes. Only in the episodes that interrupt the refrain does the music take on a more song-like quality – though still highly virtuosic, as Wieniawski takes one final opportunity to demonstrate what his instrument – or rather, he himself – is capable of.