Scottish Fantasy, Op.46

Like many European composers, writers, and painters of his generation, Max Bruch had a strong romantic attachment to Scotland. He loved its music and he was moved by its literature - which, basically, is how the Scottish Fantasy came about. The emotional stimulus for the work he found in the novels of Sir Walter Scott; its melodic material he drew from the wealth of Scottish folk song. Another, slightly incongruous inspiration was the violin playing of the Spanish virtuoso, Pablo Sarasate, to whom the Scottish Fantasy is dedicated and who was the soloist in its first performance (in a Bach festival) in Hamburg in 1880. Perhaps the composer felt that a prominent part for the harp, an instrument with Celtic associations, would compensate for the somewhat un-Scottish flamboyance of the violin writing.

The work begins in the rhythm of a funeral march quietly articulated on the brass as a background to the eloquently improvised lament of the solo violin. The key changes to the major for the Adagio cantabile but it is still in a heavily nostalgic mood that, accompanied by soft arpeggios on the harp, the soloist introduces “Auld Robin Morris,” which is the main theme of the movement and which, whether harmonised in double-stopped thirds or poised sweetly high on the E string, is a good subject for violin colouring.

Bruch must have been particularly fond of “Auld Robin Morris,” since he recalls it twice before the end of the work. It reappears for the first time at the end of the Scherzo - a brilliantly scored dance (with a hint of the bagpipes) based on “Hey the Dusty Miller” - to make a transition into the sentimental atmosphere of the Andante sostenuto. This slow movement is a setting of “I’m a-Down for lack o’ Johnnie,” which melody is developed in a quicker middle section before the orchestral violins take it up again in its original form.

The second reappearance of “Auld Robin Morris” occurs shortly before the end of the work - as a briefly conciliatory gesture after a fierce finale headed Allegro guerriero and echoing with the truculent rhythms of “Scots wha hae.” The warlike gestures derive more from the orchestra than from the soloist, who not only performs decorative acrobatics round the main theme but also offers a little lyrical contrast to it.

Like many European composers, writers, and painters of his generation, Max Bruch had a strong romantic attachment to Scotland. He loved its music and he was moved by its literature – which, basically, is how the Scottish Fantasy came about. The emotional stimulus for the work he found in the novels of Sir Walter Scott; its melodic material he drew from the wealth of Scottish folk song. Another, slightly incongruous inspiration was the violin playing of the Spanish virtuoso, Pablo Sarasate, to whom the Scottish Fantasy is dedicated and who was the soloist in its first performance (in a Bach festival) in Hamburg in 1880. Perhaps the composer felt that a prominent part for the harp, an instrument with Celtic associations, would compensate for the somewhat un-Scottish flamboyance of the violin writing.

The work begins in E flat minor with the rhythm of a funeral march quietly articulated by the brass as a background to the eloquently improvised lament of the solo violin. The key changes to E flat major for the Adagio cantabile but it is still in a heavily nostalgic mood that, accompanied by soft arpeggios on the harp, the soloist introduces “Auld Robin Morris,” which is the main theme of the movement and which, whether harmonised in double-stopped thirds or poised sweetly high on the E string, is a good subject for violin colouring.

Bruch must have been particularly fond of “Auld Robin Morris,” since he recalls it twice before the end of the work. It reappears for the first time at the end of the Scherzo – a brilliantly scored dance in G major (with a hint of the bagpipes) based on “Hey the Dusty Miller” – to make a transition into the A flat major tonality and the sentimental atmosphere of the Andante sostenuto. This slow movement is a setting of “I’m a-Down for lack o’ Johnnie,” which melody is developed in a quicker middle section in B major (not as distant from A flat major as it looks) before the orchestral violins take it up again in its original form.

The second reappearance of “Auld Robin Morris” occurs shortly before the end of the work – as a briefly conciliatory gesture after a fierce finale headed Allegro guerriero and echoing with the truculent rhythms of “Scots wha hae.” The warlike gestures derive more from the orchestra than from the soloist, who not only performs decorative acrobatics round the main theme but also offers a little lyrical contrast to it.