MICHAEL DERVANreviews Leonard, Jones in the NCH and SIOBHÁN LONGreviews Niwel Tsumbu in Whelan's, Dublin

Leonard, Jones

NCH, Dublin

Mozart– Sonata in A K526. Schumann– Sonata in A minor Op 105. Debussy– Sonata in G minor. Ian Wilson– Spilliaert's Beach. Ravel– Violin Sonata

A lot of ink has been spilt over the years about the problems faced by composers marrying the disparate sound worlds of violin and piano.

Wednesday's NCH/ The Irish TimesCelebrity concert by the violin and piano duo of Catherine Leonard and Warren Jones placed what you might regard as exemplary test pieces at either end of what turned out to be an evening of hugely stimulating music-making.

It's all a matter of priorities and balances. The key to the sonatas by Mozart and Ravel lies in the composers' views of what they were doing. Contrary to modern expectations that the violinist will be the focus of attention, Mozart referred to the violin parts of his piano and violin sonatas as accompaniments. He was not alone in this view. More than 10 years after Mozart's death, the violinist George Bridgetower referred to himself as accompanying Beethoven in the first performance of the latter's large-scale Kreutzer Sonata.

Ravel regarded violin and piano as “instruments which are in my opinion essentially incompatible. Far from balancing their contrasts, the Sonata reveals their incompatibility.” These performances by Leonard and Jones showed a rare appreciation of the issues involved. In Mozart’s penultimate work for piano and violin, the Sonata in A, K526, there was no grandstanding, no soloistic attempt to turn violinistic accompaniment into expressive meat. The opening movement was aptly sinewy, the central Andante plaintively haunting, and the brisk finale featherweight and fleet. The balance between the two instruments seemed well-nigh perfect.

The lazy meditativeness of Ravel’s opening movement was beautifully caught, as if the two players were musing with a kind of independent togetherness. Jones’s dissection of the piano writing in the central Blues movement was endlessly fascinating, with even the slightest and shortest of chordal dabs given perfect harmonic colouring, and the violin’s strumming sounding more banjo-like than ever. The moto perpetuo finale was breathlessly exciting.

The three central works offered intriguing contrasts. Schumann's ardent A minor Sonata provided the only outlet for conventional romantic passion. Here, as throughout the evening, Jones sounded the more calculating of the duo, Leonard the more spontaneously inclined. Debussy's late Violin Sonata was sensually svelte and melting. But, curiously, the rarely disturbed stillness of Ian Wilson's Spilliaert's Beach(inspired by Léon Spilliaert's painting Moonlight Beach), with its violin lines falling quietly into chordal pools, sounded more purely impressionist than the sonatas by Debussy and Ravel that framed it. MICHAEL DERVAN

Niwel Tsumbu

Whelan’s Upstairs, Dublin

Antidotes to the recession don't come much more potent than this. Niwel Tsumbu parachuted into town and his indomitable, infectious spirit invaded the intimate confines of Whelan's Upstairs before his first song had evaporated into the ether. Kicking off with Yoka, a song from his shiny new CD, Song of the Nations, Tsumbu takes his audience on a journey of discovery that traverses the peaks and troughs of life's unpredictable terrain with startling precision.

Although he’s spoken of his roots being firmly grounded in jazz, Tsumbu’s Congolese inheritance insinuates itself in every nook and cranny of his music. With long-time percussionist Éamonn Cagney by his side, he gives full rein to a sweep of syncopated rhythms that have many of his punters grasping and gasping to keep up.

The addition of a subtle bass player, Katherine Döhner on violin and backing vocals, and Chinio Cacutso on clarinet brought layers of further complexity to the music, but never at its expense. As Tsumbu ripped through a short set list that swung from the tribal transcendence of Africato Tikaand Kinia, musical motifs snaked their way out of the music, revealing themselves with a confidence that invited everyone to partake in the celebration.

Döhner’s violin was positively muscular, and Cacutso’s clarinet lent a distinctly European flavour to the mix, evocative at times of Belinda Morris’s dispassionate yet crucial role with Hada To Hada many years ago.

The intimacy of the venue was ideal as it stoked Tsumbu's natural affability and lured his audience ever closer as his repertoire unfurled. The verve of his set underscores the methodical progress Tsumbu's made as a live performer, since he was first spotted (in Dublin, at least) playing as a duo with Cagney some two years ago. This quintet incarnation, also christened Song Of The Nations, promises much more to come, particularly in outdoor venues where punters can let every muscle and joint rip in unison. Touring nationwide through April and May SIOBHÁN LONG