Regular readers will know that I am a big fan of the piano trio – piano, cello, violin. I think it’s a great way into chamber music: the most approachable and also the most satisfying version of the form. And it gives us the composers working with the three great instruments in their most intimate and involving compositional moods.
My favourite young British piano trio is the Mithras – Dominic Degavino on piano, Ionel Manciu on violin, and Leo Popplewell on cello. They won the Trondheim International Chamber Music Competition and the Royal Over-Seas League Music Competition in 2019. They were also selected as BBC Radio 3 New Generation Artists for the 2021-23 seasons. Go and see them if you get the chance: their live performances are so full of verve, freshness and vitality, and the versatility of their repertoire is unparalleled.
And so it was a great pleasure to catch up with 29-year-old Degavino to discuss piano trios and to attempt to answer a question that I had following the last piece I wrote in these pages. It’s the same question that I get asked when programming piano trio concerts by audiences new to the form: Where’s a good place to start? And what are the top ten piano trios?
Of course, it is also an impossible question to answer – since there are so many first-class examples, and they’re all so very different. All the same, Degavino is a great guide. His modesty and unassuming conversation belies the fact that the Mithras sound – bold, interesting, committed – is in no small part because of his skilful phrase-making. And there can be no better young ambassador in the UK to provide a guide for those wanting to begin their piano trio journey.
We start with Beethoven. I suggest the Ghost Trio, Op 70, No 1, but Degavino has a soft spot for Op 70 No 2 (the E-flat major – also composed in 1808). “It is very underrated… the opening is magical, and the last movement is scarily challenging – especially for the pianist to play,” he says. “But in the end, we have to go for Beethoven’s Archduke [Op 97]. It’s simply one of the greatest pieces of all time – never mind one of the greatest trios.”
From Beethoven to Schubert, as so often. “Both of the Schubert trios are amazing,” Degavino says, “but Op 100 in E-flat is more luxurious to play and slightly easier to let go – whereas Op 99 is tighter.” You can’t go wrong with either of these, but those new to the form will likely recognise the second movement of Op. 100 – probably the most famous passage of any piano trio written. Start here if you are short on time and just need a quick shot and a way in.
Tchaikovsky’s only piano trio is next – probably my favourite at the moment. “It’s one of those pieces that has the whole world in it,” Degavino explains. “Yes, it’s very dark in some ways, but it’s also a joyous celebration of life as well… both of those things at the same time. And it’s a real emotional experience to play it.” If you ever get a chance to hear this piece live, you should go. It’s immense, dramatic and deeply moving, and – aside from anything else – has the single most haunting and life-arresting ending to any piece of music ever written.
Conversely, Shostakovich’s second piano trio (Op 67, E-minor) probably has the greatest opening of all the trios – the cello playing in high-pitched and ghostly harmonics. Shostakovich wrote it in 1944 and it premiered in war-ravaged Leningrad. Words such as “haunting” and “desolate” don’t do it justice. “The journey that you go on is just extraordinary,” Degavino says. “The wildness of the last movement… which just becomes more and more manic and the sheer desolation at the end. And it’s one of the most challenging trios for the strings, too – a real workout.”
We move on to the French. Degavino starts with the famous Ravel trio from 1914 in A-minor. I love this piece because it blends that shimmering impressionistic sound with Basque influences. For Degavino, “it’s the colour and the harmonic language and the way the piece transcends the sound of a piano trio in a good way. When you are playing it, you lose the traditional roles somehow… The piano textures are so different and summon up a different sound world.”
From Ravel, it’s a short leap to the other mighty French trio – Fauré’s D-minor Op 120. This was composed in 1922-23 when he was in declining health and nearly deaf. The piece is famous for its layered elegance, lyricism and harmonic sophistication. “It’s almost a trance in the first two movements,” Degavino explains, “you lose track of time and space before the last movement jerks you back into the present moment.”
We hit a dilemma with Brahms. “I want to say the first in B-major, Op 8. It’s such an expansive piece which he revised much later in his life, and it’s got some wonderful tunes, but I’m going to go for the C-minor [Op 101] because it was one of the first trios we played together as the Mithras. The piece just has this concentrated energy. Very, very few pieces say so much in 20 minutes.”
I am lobbying for Mendelssohn, but we both realise with horror that we’ve left out Mozart, which no account of music can do. “It has to be the B-flat [K 502],” Degavino affirms. “I am in love with this because it’s very beautiful. I love the lightness, and the interplay between the instruments is such fun. We do enjoy having a play around with repeats and ornamentation. The melodies get stuck in your head, and it has one of the most beautiful slow movements in all classical music.”
I do not know Degavino’s next choice at all: Iván Erőd, Trio No 1, Op 21. “We have recorded this trio,” Degavino says, “and it’s super-inventive and accessible for a modern work… the jazzy last movement always gets audiences going.” This was completely new to me, so I went away and listened and loved it: the piece is somewhere between Bartók and jazz, with more than a suggestion of Shostakovich in the rhythm and attack.
At this point, we are bumping up hard against the impossibility of lists since there are at least another dozen contenders. But suddenly, Degavino brightens and says with clarity: “Ah, I would definitely want to include the amazing Amy Beach, Op 150. It’s a late piece from 1938, and it’s so full of colour. Her style had changed a lot… it’s almost impressionist… full of interesting harmony and something you can get really stuck into.”
We’re out of time and space, “but obviously”, Degavino adds, “you want to mention another dozen or so… Dvořák, Saint-Saëns, and another personal favourite, Helen Grime, who we have also recorded.” And Mendelssohn, I say.
[See also: Why we’re stuck in Ancient Rome]
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