 Sonata for Piano and Violin in G major, Op. 78 by Johannes Brahms. Violin part marked by Karl Röhrig. G. Henle Verlag urtext edition, €11.
This urtext edition of Brahms' violin sonata in
G major, Op. 78—commonly referred to as the “Regenliedsonate” (“Rainsong sonata”)—offers new evidence concerning the work’s original design. Composed during the summer months of 1878 and ’79, the sonata gets its popular name from the melody at the beginning of the final movement, which is common to the songs of the earlier “Regenlieder,” Op. 59, Nos. 3 and 4, composed in 1873. This dotted-rhythm melody is the seed from which the whole “Rainsong” sonata develops.
A decorated leaf—a page handwritten by Brahms to Clara Schumann and acquired in 2005 by the Brahms-Institut an der Musik-hochschule Lübeck—reveals the central role that she and her son, Felix, played in
the creation of this sonata. That page has sparked a re-evaluation of the timeline of events surrounding this composition. Brahms sent the leaf to Felix, his godson and a talented violinist, who was ill with tuberculosis and died only a few days later.
The leaf contains the beginning of the slow Adagio, and a letter to Clara on the other that expresses Brahms’ concern for the condition of her son. To receive a single movement of an unfinished composition along with a letter was a unique occurrence. Now the Adagio—at least in parts—is believed to predate the final movement, which was long thought to be the starting point for the sonata’s dotted rhythm. Another interesting point is how the Adagio on the leaf ends at the place where, in the later printed version, the funeral-march-like section begins.
It begs the question: Was Brahms inspired to write these measures after hearing of Felix’s death?
This elegant Henle Verlag urtext edition contains a preface that is translated into German, English, and French, as well as a facsimile of the double-sided leaf and a translation of the letter from Brahms. The notated music is clearly written, has easy-to-read type, and is on high-quality paper stock.
Violinists should enjoy the inclusion of two violin parts: one with fingerings and bowings by Karl Röhrig and the other clear
of any markings. —Graham Pellettieri
 Stringprovisation: A Fingering Strategy for Jazz Violin Improvisation by Ari Poutiainen. Finnish Musicological Society, €30.
In Stringprovisation, Finnish violinist, composer, and researcher Ari Poutiainen argues the need for new approaches to teaching jazz violin and presents his own new approach to jazz fingering. The book, which was Poutiainen’s dissertation, is an academic text, but offers practical ideas, exercises, and improvisation tips that should appeal to players and teachers outside of academia.
In the first section, Poutiainen discusses and critiques the publications of other string pedagogues, taking the stance that the contemporary pedagogy for jazz violin does not, but should, take advantage of classical violin literature and other sources outside of the jazz realm. He urges jazz violinists to use more of the fingerboard. He also believes students should not let intonation challenges guide their improvisation.
The second, and more engaging, section focuses on Poutiainen’s fingering approach and provides detailed examples for learning his techniques. Especially interesting are the annotated solos in which Poutiainen breaks down two solos into two- to 15-measure sections. He explains the note and fingering choices for each section, referencing the patterns and techniques provided throughout the book. Although it’s not a method or exercise book in the strict sense, the ideas and examples provided in Stringprovisation should be useful to those interested in serious jazz violin studies. —Lyzy Lusterman
 Sicilienne, Op. 78 by Gabriel Fauré; arranged for cello and guitar by Joaquim de Sousa-Antunes. Alphonse Leduc, $24.
Gabriel Fauré began serious musical training at the age of nine. He played the organ and studied sacred music for ten years at the Niedermeyer School in Paris and later became the organist at the Church of Madeleine. Yet, despite composing in many genres, he never wrote music for the organ.
Nor did Fauré write for the guitar.
This 1893 work was intended for cello and piano, though Fauré later created an
orchestrated version.
This new transcription for cello and guitar features clear and helpful fingerings, formatting and fonts that are easy to read, and no rushed or awkward page turns. Two copies of the score are included. There is a short biography of Fauré on the back cover that is translated into French, German, Spanish, and English. It would be helpful to the reader if the few explanatory notes in the music were translated as well, although this is a minor complaint.
The biography describes Fauré’s music as having an “unusual musical sensitivity” and “elegant counterpoint”—both descriptions fit this new cello-guitar instrumentation very well.
If this edition whets your appetite for the music of this increasingly popular French composer, Fauré’s Pavane, Op. 50; Berceuse, Op. 16; and Aprés un Rêve—each arranged by Sousa-Antunes for guitar and cello—also are available. —L.L.
 Tchaikovsky by Roland John Wiley. Oxford University Press, $39.95.
It’s probably safe to say that Tchaikovsky is one of the most talked-about composers of all time and that much of what is said is sensationalized and based on speculation.
In his new biography of the great Russian composer, Roland John Wiley attempts
to dispel the rumors and disprove the
controversies and present a history based entirely on documentation and solid evidence.
Wiley covers many topics of interest, including Tchaikovsky's childhood, employment as a civil servant, his studies at the
St. Petersburg Conservatory, the complexities of the composer’s courtship and marriage, the controversies surrounding his ill health and subsequent death, and other details that may have been omitted in the biography written by Tchaikovsky’s own brother more than a century ago. But it is the discussions and extensive analyses of
the composer’s work, which are presented in an engaging and approachable way, that are the best aspect of this book.
At 546 pages, the biography is somewhat dense and most suited for readers with a
serious interest in Tchaikovsky, but it’s easy enough to read single chapters of
interest, out of order, without feeling lost or confused. A 13-page personalia indexes the
dozens of characters who pop in and out of the composer's life.
Overall, Wiley has succeeded in proving that it is Tchaikovsky’s music, and not the speculation surrounding his life, that makes him enduringly popular. —L.L. | 
