In almost every piece of music by Antonín Dvořák, there’s a moment that makes you feel as if you want to cry. I’ve played his works so many times that there are some where that effect has lessened over time, but his Romance in F minor is one of those pieces that never fails to touch me, whether I’m performing or teaching it.
TOP PHOTO KAUPO KIKKAS. MAIN PHOTO COURTESY ORCHESTRA DELLA SVIZZERA ITALIANA
It was the first piece by Dvořák that I ever played. I first came across it when I was twelve years old and practising for the 1995 Menuhin Competition, but it was only when I was older and had played more of Dvořák’s compositions that I really felt as if I understood it. I sometimes think that we appreciate his music for the wrong reasons: there’s often a real sense of tragedy in his work that is dressed up as nostalgia. There are moments of intense melancholy, and even in his more lighthearted works there’s a sense that he’s writing about very deep and serious things. Then there can be just one harmonic change and everything is sunny again. The depth of emotion in this work is incredible.