Felix Mendelssohn surely inherited the intellectual curiosity of his grandfather, the famous Jewish philosopher Moses Mendelssohn, but it was really the fortune his father amassed in the banking business that gave Mendelssohn every possible advantage to capitalize on his extraordinary gifts. Guided by elite tutors, he developed into a prodigy unlike any the world had ever seen—a preternaturally mature composer and pianist who could improvise or sight-read anything, and who could also play violin, paint hyper-realistic watercolors, and speak and read in six languages, among his myriad talents. For fun, he would invite Berlin’s finest musicians over to his family’s mansion to play chamber music, which is how he became lifelong friends with a fellow prodigy one year younger than him, the violinist Ferdinand David.

Mendelssohn was a seasoned pro when, at the age of 26, he took over as Music Director of the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra. He invited David to join the orchestra as its concertmaster, and he soon suggested writing a concerto for him. “One in E-minor sticks in my head,” Mendelssohn wrote, “the beginning of which will not leave me in peace.” He finally drafted the concerto six years later, a process that involved many letters back and forth with David to discuss technique. The concerto turned out to be the last orchestral score that Mendelssohn completed; two years after its 1845 premiere in Leipzig, he suffered a series of strokes and died at the age of 38.

Some of the concerto’s most magical moments are those that defy conventional responsibilities, like when the violin launches immediately into the brooding first theme. Instead of a big flourish at the end of the cadenza (which is placed earlier than would be expected), the violin simply continues its ghostly arpeggios while the orchestra brings back the main melody.

A single held note from a bassoon links the first movement to the second, which blooms into an expressive aria for the violinist. As the slow movement recedes, a halting transition builds anticipation and points the concerto toward its sunny conclusion in E. As a contrast to the flirty main theme, a regal secondary theme injects new grandeur and gravitas. This last big tune reworks the rhythms and intervals of the violin’s initial melody, transforming what first appeared as a lonely question into a communal affirmation.

Solo violin; two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, two horns, two trumpets, timpani, strings