The Glasshouse

Dvořák’s Cello Concerto is widely considered one of the greatest compositions by the Czech composer and the best cello concerto ever penned. As we approach the classical season finale concert on Saturday 15 June, British cellist Steven Isserlis, one of the world’s best-loved cellists and a national treasure, will be the soloist for this passionate piece. We caught up with Steven to delve into the magic of this masterpiece and to hear his insights ahead of the highly anticipated performance.

You’re playing Dvořák’s Cello Concerto, one of the best-loved works in the orchestral collection. What makes this piece so extraordinary, and what accounts for its enduring popularity among audiences and performers?

It’s simply a masterpiece. It has everything: heroism, excitement, gorgeous melodies, joie de vivre, reflection, tragedy and a profoundly personal narrative. Just this afternoon, I played a Haydn concerto, and after a man brought his young cellist son to the artist’s room. The father said (the boy was very shy) that his son had been about to give up the cello, when he’d happened to hear the Dvořák concerto. That changed everything for him. Very understandable – when I was that boy’s age, I was obsessed with this concerto too.

Dvořák initially had reservations about composing a cello concerto, believing the instrument was better suited for orchestral and chamber music. What do you think prompted his change of heart, and how did he manage to overcome his initial scepticism to create such a masterpiece?

Apparently, the first inkling of the work came to Dvořák as an idea for a symphony when he visited Niagara Falls. But as the idea grew, the cello became an integral part of the work – luckily. Brahms is said to have remarked, on hearing this concerto for the first time, that had he known it was possible to write such a cello concerto, he’d have written one long before.

Could you tell us about any unique aspects or moments in Dvořák’s Cello Concerto that resonate with you personally?

I always find the coda (final section) of the last movement, where Dvořák bids farewell to his beloved sister-in-law Josefina (who had recently died) especially moving. In retrospect, it somehow alters the whole impression of the concerto. This section was added after he’d completed the concerto, but it feels like a very natural ending to the work, a summing up.

Do you remember the first time you played it? Can you tell us about that experience and your first impressions?

I first started to learn it when I was 12 years old – much to my father’s disgust; he thought I wasn’t nearly ready for it. Perhaps he was right, but I was so obsessed with it that I begged my teacher to allow me to play it. And I first performed it when I was 14, at my teacher’s festival in Austria. It was a dream come true.

You’ve performed with some of the world’s leading orchestras. What are you looking forward to the most when it comes to performing with Royal Northern Sinfonia and conductor Dinis Sousa?

I’ll really be among friends. Maria, the leader, is an old friend with whom I’ve played chamber music; I’ve also worked a lot with Madelyn, who’s leading the cellos; and so on. Although Dinis and I met comparatively recently, he instantly became a great friend. But don’t tell him that! I’m also pleased to play the concerto with a chamber orchestra, rather than a huge symphony orchestra. The Dvořák can be a problem for balance – even the reviews from the premiere mention that. You can blast your way through it, of course, but that completely ruins the sense of personal statement that is such a vital feature of the work. So playing it with an orchestra of chamber music players will be a treat.

How does performing at The Glasshouse compare to other venues or events you’ve performed at?

I love the fact that, although it’s quite a large hall, The Glasshouse retains a feeling of intimacy.

Finally, could you tell us about any upcoming projects or performances you’re excited about, either related to this concert or beyond?

This year is Fauré year – the centenary of his death; and Fauré is one of my all-time favourite composers (my son is named after him!). So I’m looking forward to spending much of the summer (in the US) and the first days of November (at the Wigmore Hall) with close friends, performing his chamber music, much of it not nearly as well-known as it deserves to be. He was a genius!  But so was Dvořák.