I first learned the Dvořák Violin Concerto when I was 15. Having studied all the standard war horses, I began exploring the next most frequently requested concertos. I fell in love with the Dvořák right away, and have been fortunate to have performed it regularly since I was a teenager.

When I first began learning the Dvořák, it felt like an old friend. I frequently had listened to his Cello Concerto, had studied a number of his chamber music works, and had even had the opportunity to play a couple of his symphonies. I was drawn to the Violin Concerto and the way it blends a Brahmsian approach to tone with rhythms inspired by Czech folk music. And of course, the rondo theme of the last movement is one of the catchiest melodies in the violin repertoire!

By a lovely coincidence, I recorded the Dvořák concerto on August 22, the birthday of my violin hero, Maud Powell. Powell was of the work’s earliest champions in America. In preparing to perform it for the first time, she met with Dvořák to play it through for him. Before she could start, Dvořák informed her that Joachim felt that the work was too difficult for any woman. Needless to say, Powell proved her old teacher wrong. When she finished, Dvořák jokingly suggested that he "should write to Joachim at once that he had found a woman who could play his concerto perfectly." If only Powell had lived long enough to record her interpretation for posterity!

In 1879, Antonín Dvořák (1841-1904) began writing a violin concerto for the eminent violinist Joseph Joachim. The process, experienced by many composers before him (including Bruch and Brahms), would consist of composing, sharing the music with Joachim, receiving comments, making revisions, and repeating as necessary until Joachim was ready to give the work a public premiere. Dvořák had every reason to expect a favorable outcome. Joachim had already performed some of his chamber music and Brahms, Joachim’s close friend, was an active supporter.

Things did not go as planned. Although Dvořák had been a proficient string player, previously serving as principal viola of the Provisional Theater in Prague, Joachim had concerns about the writing for the solo violin. He wrote in a letter to Dvořák that, “certain details make it clear that you have not played [the violin] yourself for some time.”

Furthermore, Joachim did not look favorably on the formal structure of Dvořák’s first movement. Despite Joachim’s conservative preference for classical form, he had earlier accepted the unusual first movement of Bruch’s G Minor concerto with its segue into the second movement. However, Dvořák’s concept was even more radical – his rhapsodic first movement contains no significant orchestral tutti, no solo cadenza, and a truncated recapitulation that is essentially interrupted by a transitional section. Dvořák’s publisher even tried to get him to change the end of the first movement so that it no longer flowed directly into the second. Thankfully for us, Dvořák insisted on his vision.

The collaborative process dragged on for three years. Joachim had clearly thought enough of the music’s potential to make copious notes necessitating significant rewriting. In November 1882, Joachim gave the piece a run through. However, her was never satisfied and ultimately declined to perform the concerto publicly.

The premiere was given by the young Czech violinist František Ondříček in Prague in 1883. Ondříček, whose own output included a “Bohemian Rhapsody” for violin, clearly had a strong affinity for his countryman’s new piece and toured it all over the world to great success.

Dvořák’s writing demands a fullness of tone typical of German Romantic music and makes copious use of the lyrical quality of the solo violin in all three movements, while incorporating brilliant passagework and characterful dance-like fiddling. The second movement is a gorgeous example of a chamber music dialogue between soloist and orchestra in the context of a lush symphonic sound. Its popularity was such that it was often performed as a stand-alone work. While Slavic rhythms infuse the entire concerto, the last movement is particularly folkloric, with a bagpipe texture in the accompaniment and the typical melancholy “dumka” section in the middle. The main rondo theme is inspired by a Czech folk dance called a “furiant” which contains energetic rhythmic patterns of two against three. The exuberant coda contains a return of the dumka theme, now in triumphant major key.