Introduction and Tarantella Op.43 (1899)

Sarasate had his limitations as a violinist. In the Beethoven Concerto, according to Carl Flesch, he was “impossible” and the Brahms he wouldn’t play at all: “Do you really think I’d be so insipid as to stand there on the stage, violin in hand, while the oboe plays the only melody in the Adagio?” He did, however, set new standards in accuracy while cultivating a caressingly flawless sound and a uniquely elegant style. The “ideal embodiment of the salon virtuoso,” as Flesch called him, he not only inspired works like Saint-Saëns’s Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso, Lalo’s Symphonie espagnole and Bruch’s Scottish Fantasy but also supplemented his repertoire with dozens of devastatingly brilliant works of his own.

Not a great melodist himself, Sarasate drew on ready-made material from any likely source, not least the popular operas of the day. National melodies were another favourite source, particularly if they were Spanish, but gypsy tunes were an inspiration too and he also made good use of Scottish, Venetian and Romanian examples. The themes of the Introduction and Tarantella, however, could well be his own. A stylishly sentimental Neapolitan love song – which is particularly expressive in the lowest register of the violin but effectively coloured too in a passage of harmonics at the other end of the range – introduces the tarantella, which is less remarkable for it melodic distinction than for its virtuoso treatment which, far from stopping to draw breath, races from one brilliant effect to another even more brilliant effect and yet another.

Sarasate had his limitations as a violinist. In the Beethoven Concerto, according to Carl Flesch, he was “impossible” and the Brahms he wouldn’t play at all: “Do you really think I’d be so insipid as to stand there on the stage, violin in hand, while the oboe plays the only melody in the Adagio?” He did, however, set new standards in accuracy while cultivating a caressingly flawless sound and a uniquely elegant style – qualities which, happily, are preserved in the recordings he made towards the end of his career. This “ideal embodiment of the salon virtuoso,” as Flesch called him, not only inspired works like Saint-Saëns’s Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso, Lalo’s Symphonie espagnole and Bruch’s Scottish Fantasy but also supplemented his repertoire with dozens of devastatingly brilliant works of his own.

Not a great melodist himself, Sarasate drew on ready-made material from any likely source, not least the popular operas of the day –- Carmen most memorably but also Der Freischütz, Don Giovanni, Faust, La forza del destino, Martha, Mireille, Roméo et Juliette … National melodies were another favourite source, particularly if they were Spanish, but gypsy tunes were an inspiration too (for Zigeunerweisen) and he also made good use of Scottish, Venetian and Romanian examples. The themes of the Introduction and Tarantella could well be his own, however. A stylishly sentimental Neapolitan love song – which is particularly expressive in the lowest register of the violin but effectively coloured too in a passage of harmonics at the other end of the range – introduces the tarantella, which is less remarkable for it melodic distinction than for its virtuoso treatment. Far from stopping to draw breath, it races from one brilliant effect to another even more brilliant effect and yet another.

Sarasate had his limitations as a violinist. In the Beethoven Concerto, according to Carl Flesch, he was “impossible” and the Brahms he wouldn’t play at all: “Do you really think I’d be so insipid as to stand there on the stage, violin in hand, while the oboe plays the only melody in the Adagio?” He did, however, set new standards in accuracy while cultivating a caressingly flawless sound and a uniquely elegant style - qualities which, happily, are preserved in the recordings he made towards the end of his career. This “ideal embodiment of the salon virtuoso,” as Flesch called him, not only inspired works like Saint-Saëns’s Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso, Lalo’s Symphonie espagnole and Bruch’s Scottish Fantasy but also supplemented his repertoire with dozens of devastatingly brilliant works of his own.

Not a great melodist himself, Sarasate drew on ready-made material from any likely source, not least the popular operas of the day –- Carmen most memorably but also Der Freischütz, Don Giovanni, Faust, La forza del destino, Martha, Mireille, Roméo et Juliette … National melodies were another favourite source, particularly if they were Spanish, but gypsy tunes were an inspiration too (for Zigeunerweisen) and he also made good use of Scottish, Venetian and Romanian examples. The themes of the Introduction and Tarantella could well be his own, however. A stylishly sentimental Neapolitan love song – which is particularly expressive in the lowest register of the violin but effectively coloured too in a passage of harmonics at the other end of the range – introduces the tarantella, which is less remarkable for it melodic distinction than for its virtuoso treatment which, far from stopping to draw breath, races from one brilliant effect to another even more brilliant effect and yet another.