Johannes Brahms 1833–1897 Cello Sonata No.1 in E minor Op.38 1 I. Allegro non troppo 14.22 2 II. Allegretto quasi Menuetto 5.24 3 III. Allegro 6.41

Max Reger 1873–1916 Suite for solo cello No.2 in D minor Op.131c/2 4 I. Präludium: Largo 6.10 5 II. Gavotte: Allegretto 4.21 6 III. Largo 5.05 7 IV. Gigue: Vivace 3.37

Robert Schumann 1810–1856 Fantasiestücke Op.73 8 I. Zart und mit Ausdruck 3.26 9 II. Lebhaft, leicht 3.41 10 III. Rasch und mit Feuer 4.16 11 Adagio and Allegro in A flat Op.70 8.38 65.45

Nina Kotova cello

José Feghali piano

Brahms became familiar with the basic workings of the cello at an early age, with a little help from his father. Although it was the piano that became his lifelong musical confidante, it was the cello’s natural baritone–tenor–alto compass that dominated his creative thinking. His penchant for imposing middle-range textures

is evident from his earliest surviving piano sonatas, while his close affinity with the expressive properties of string instruments was honed by close contact with two of the finest violinists of the age: Eduard Reményi (1828–1898) and Joseph Joachim (1831–1907). It was during an early tour with Reményi that Brahms first became acquainted with the infectious chutzpah of Hungarian folk music, while his friendship with Joachim – to whom both his Violin and Double Concertos are dedicated – had an incalculable impact on his string writing in general.

So close was Brahms’s sense of identity with the cello’s soundworld that he chose it for the first of his seven duo sonatas (the others are for violin and clarinet). He appears to have selected the relatively unusual key of E minor for its brooding melancholy and searing dramatic power. In contrast to Beethoven in his Op.90 Piano Sonata and Mendelssohn in his popular Op.64 Violin Concerto, Brahms returns the finale resolutely to the tonic minor – an uncompromising emotional trajectory that he repeated in his Fourth Symphony.

Brahms was notoriously secretive about the background to his music, insisting that it arose primarily from a structural foundation of immutable counterpoint – revealingly, the opening theme of his E minor Cello Sonata bears an uncanny resemblance to that of Bach’s contrapuntal musical compendium, The Art of Fugue. Yet there is no denying the life-changing events that led up to and then continued during its composition between 1862 and 1865. During this period, Brahms’s most valued and distinguished supporter, Robert Schumann, had passed away, his subsequent close friendship with Schumann’s widow, Clara, had cooled slightly following his two-year courtship of and broken engagement to soprano Agathe von Siebold. Furthermore, his hopes of obtaining the directorship of the Philharmonic Orchestra in his hometown of Hamburg had been dashed, necessitating a change of domicile to Vienna. As a result, a number of works started around this time had prolonged gestationary periods, including the Piano Quintet (which started out as a string quintet before morphing into a sonata for two pianos) and most notoriously the First Symphony, which wasn’t completed until 1876.

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The E minor Cello Sonata also took a while to find its creative feet – Brahms eventually jettisoned a planned Adagio third movement (ideas from which appear to have been recycled in the Second Cello Sonata of 1886) leaving a highly unconventional (for its time) three-movement work, embracing a central minuet and trio and an impassioned fugal finale. The latter was the last to be composed, which helps explain its stylistic variance from the melodic luxuriousness of his pre-Viennese music towards the imposing intellectual rigour of his creative middle period.

The impetus to finish the sonata came from gifted amateur cellist Josef Gänsbacher (1829–1911), a noted member of Vienna’s acclaimed Singakademie, of which Brahms had just been appointed director. During their first run-through, Gänsbacher complained that he was struggling to make himself heard over Brahms’s typically fulsome piano writing. With a twinkle in his eye, the composer responded with characteristically dry wit: “It’s probably just as well!”

Listening to this glorious work reminds us just how far Brahms had travelled musically in the twelve years since the composer Robert Schumann had first alerted the musical world to the emerging young genius – “a gift from the gods… the chosen one” – in one of his last articles for the musical journal of which he was co-founder and editor: Neue Leipziger Zeitschrift für Musik. If Brahms was an instinctive symphonist, with a passion for long-range structures – his shorter pieces often feel as though they are being held under super-heated compression – Schumann was arguably the most profoundly gifted of all miniaturists, whose more extended creations feel like inspired expansionism. Yet Schumann shared one very important creative tendency with Brahms: a propensity for middle-range textures, which made him an ideal composer for the cello, as witness the many inspired passages for the instrument in his chamber music and most especially the heart-rending Cello Concerto of 1850.

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Schumann was capable of producing music at an astonishing pace, most notably between March and July 1840, when he composed over 140 lieder of the highest quality, including the classic cycles Dichterliebe (“A Poet’s Love”) and Frauenliebe und -leben (“A Woman’s Love and Life”). February 1849 witnessed another remarkable outpouring of inspiration, when in the space of just one week Schumann produced both the Adagio and Allegro Op.70 for horn, violin or cello and Fantasiestücke (“Fantasy Pieces”) Op.70 for clarinet, violin or cello.

The latter was originally titled Soiréestücke, presumably to set it apart from Schumann’s existing Fantasiestücke for solo piano and piano trio. However, it may also have been his desire to align it with other works he composed under the umbrella term Hausmusik, intended primarily for gifted amateurs to be played in the relaxed surroundings of their own home. He often gave such pieces picturesque titles, but in this case gave only an indication of their mood and content with German instructions, opening with a hauntingly reflective “Zart und mit Ausdruck” (“Tender and with expression”). There follows a nimble intermezzo headed “Lebhaft, leicht” (“Lively, light”) and an exuberant, headlong finale with the colourful inscription “Rasch und mit Feuer” (“Fast and with fire”). The set is bound together by subtle thematic cross-referencing, which explains why Schumann indicated in the score that the three pieces be played with only a short break in between.

Barely was the ink dry on the Fantasiestücke, when Schumann returned to traditional Italian nomenclature with the Adagio and Allegro, completed in just two days. Combining and offsetting two of his most characteristic expressive soundworlds – gentle ecstasy and uncontainable euphoria – Schumann’s wife, Clara, enthused at the time that it was “a magnificent piece, fresh and passionate”.

Schumann’s inspired sense of fantasy and Brahms’s contrapuntal mastery are fused together in the music of Max Reger, who unlike his near-contemporaries Gustav Mahler and Richard Strauss remained devotedly true to his Bachian principles of absolute structural integrity. Indeed, it was Pablo Casals’s turn-of-the-century advocacy of Bach’s six solo cello suites that inspired Reger to compose his own set of three, Op.131c, in 1914. The second of the set, in D minor, is cast in four movements, offsetting the noble expressive intensity of the opening Präludium and the Largo third movement with two traditional dance genres: a delightful F major Gavotte and a nimble-fingered Gigue finale.Julian Haylock

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A Personal Note from Nina Kotova José Feghali was an extraordinary musician whose sensitivity to detail and passion for excellence were paramount. José was a Renaissance man in the classic definition of the word; I was fortunate to have José as one of my most important chamber music colleagues, and we performed together on important concert stages.

José became a family friend. We both lived in Texas and often had the chance to meet and celebrate milestones in both of our lives. I fondly remember performing at the Cliburn Concerts with José at his 40th birthday celebration, spending time with him and Van Cliburn together afterwards and hearing Van’s effusive praise for our performance together. I trusted José’s musical choices without doubt. There were moments while performing or rehearsing with José that made me want to stop time and marvel at the beauty, as if that was the “golden moment.”

This was the last professional recording José made before his passing in 2014. I then had the sole responsibility to work together with the album’s producer and engineer to edit and finalize the recording. José and I both enjoyed working on it, and at the time we were planning our next concert programs together. I’m excited that this recording has come to fruition.

I hope listeners appreciate this beautiful recording as much as I enjoyed making it with him. The Cliburn Foundation has also written a wonderful tribute to José which can be found on page 10.

José Feghali 1961–20141985 Cliburn Gold Medalist

José Feghali will long be remembered as a beautiful musician, a masterful teacher, and a brilliant mind.

After his gold medal win at the Seventh Van Cliburn International Piano Competition in 1985, José went on to perform in over 1,000 concerts worldwide, including orchestra appearances with the Berlin Philharmonic, London Symphony, Concertgebouw of Amsterdam, Royal Philharmonic, and virtually all American orchestras. Recital engagements also took him around the globe, including major venues such as Carnegie Hall, the Kennedy Center, Wigmore Hall, and Chicago’s Orchestra Hall.

He was a dedicated and sought-after teacher, serving as artist-in-residence at TCU from 1990 until his death in 2014. He quickly became a beloved part of the Fort Worth community and a fixture in its cultural scene. José took an active role on the Cliburn’s board of directors, often sharing his passion about its direction and future. As recently as the 2013 Competition, he would call in to help tweak the sound levels of the webcast, always dedicated to perfection.

José was a talented producer, and recording and mastering engineer, working on over 50 projects, including as the remastering engineer for the Cliburn’s Retrospective series of CDs. He was also an avid storm chaser and amateur radio operator.

His love for music was rivaled by his love for technology, which led him to also serve as the TCU School of Music’s coordinator of internet technologies, where he was awarded the Mike Ferrari Award for his work with Internet2, and video conferencing and streaming technology. He fixed coding issues in a Microsoft videoconferencing program to improve the audio quality and was consequently invited to speak at a Microsoft conference.

His dedication and generosity were seemingly endless. He had a mind that could conquer anything, and a smile that could light up a room. We were honored to know him.The Van Cliburn Foundation

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Recorded: Ed Landreth Auditorium, TCU, Fort Worth, TexasProducer: Philip Traugott

Recording Engineer, Editing, Mixing and Mastering: Tom LazarusPhotography: Robert Voltaire · Design: Paul Marc Mitchell for WLP Ltd P 2021 Nina Kotova under exclusive licence to Parlophone Records Limited

A Warner Classics release, C 2021 Parlophone Records Limitedwarnerclassics.com

All rights of the producer and of the owner of the work reproduced reserved Unauthorised copying, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting

of this record prohibited.

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