Ustvolskaya, Silvestrov, Kancheli – Works for Piano and Orchestra, Elisaveta Blumina
Galina Ustvolskaya: Concerto for Piano, String
Orchestra, and Timpani
Valentin Silvestrov: Four Postludes, Hymn
Giya Kancheli: Sio
for Orchestra, Piano, and Percussion
Elisaveta Blumina, piano
Thomas Sanderling, conductor
Stuttgart Chamber Orchestra
Grand Piano GP 678 (58:03)
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Elisaveta Blumina and the Grand Piano label have done sterling work in
recent years in promoting the piano, both solo and concertante, music of
post-Soviet composers. The aesthetic politics here are complicated: Silvestrov
and Kancheli are both of a religious Minimalist persuasion, even when writing
music, as here, that is completely secular. But that school has increasingly
moved into a radical, even confrontational position, with tonality and textural
simplicity presented not only without apology, but almost in deliberate contravention
of Western tastes. The challenge to Modernism here is obvious, but both
composers go further, and if the West is willing to concede a neo-Romantic or
Postmodern dimension to recent musical culture, even that is challenged.
Kancheli is quoted in the liner note extolling Romanticism, with no “neo-”
attached, as ‘a high dream of past, present, and future.’ Conflict seems
inevitable, if only at the level of the individual listener coming to terms
with this radically ahistoric stance. Blumina herself is Russian but based
primarily in Hamburg, a city with a long tradition of supporting recent Russian
music (thanks largely to the music publishing industry there), so presumably
performs for audiences accustomed to the challenges this music presents. She
and her colleges perform the music with real conviction, and there is no sense
that the players share my reservations. As such, then, this is an important release,
not least because it presents two world premiere recordings, and excellent
performances of two other rarely heard works.
Such reflections have little relevance to the first work on the program,
although it somehow manages to fit neatly into the ethos of the recording.
Galina Ustvolskaya’s Concerto for Piano, String Orchestra, and Timpani was
written in 1946 when she was 27 years old and just completing her studies at
the Leningrad Conservatory (following a long disruption caused by the siege).
The style is some distance from the austere Modernism of Ustvolskaya’s mature
work, the single movement written predominantly in the keys of C Major and C
Minor. As well as being in a single movement, the music also seems
monothematic, with a four-note trochaic motif dominating from start to finish.
The composer herself resisted comparisons with her most famous teacher,
Shostakovich, but this motif, and its emphatic recurrence, are reminiscent of
Shostakovich’s Fifth Symphony. On the other hand, that insistence, the
continual focus on a single idea, repeated through different textures and
harmonies, is similar to the approach in her later music: For all its tonal
convention, this is music of an insistent and uncompromising bent. And, as
often with Shostakovich, the positive and optimistic ending feels at least
slightly ironic—exaggerated almost to the point of satire.
No such mixed messages in Silvestrov’s Four Postludes of 2004. Silvestrov specializes in music with a
sense of belatedness, hence the regular us of “postlude” in his titles. That
can come through in stylistic play, but just as often, as here, it is achieved through
an unspecific sense of nostalgia. The music, throughout, is quiet and
reflective, typically with the piano giving attacks to chords and textures,
which the strings then sustain in clear, uncomplicated, diatonic harmonies.
Silvestrov displays an impressive skill in handling this simplicity. The way
that silences are integrated into the discourse is always seamless. And
although the music is nostalgic, it is never sentimental, giving a sense of
focus, even efficiency, to the work’s 16-minute span. The Hymn (2001) that ends the program is in a similar spirit. This work
is shorter and is written for strings alone, one to a part. The dynamic never
rises above mezzo-piano, and is
usually lower, and so the music requires careful concentration, and, again, a
sense of deep stillness and reflection is the listener’s reward.
Between, we hear Sio for
string orchestra, piano, and percussion by Giya Kancheli. The work is based on,
or at least invokes, the folk music of Kancheli’s native Georgia. He explores
the available textures and sounds, including some prominent tuned percussion,
over what feels like a series of loosely structured variations. Occasional
abrupt changes of texture and mood help to define the contours of the work, and
to distinguish it from the more flowing and even Silvestrov scores that frame
it. But, like Silvestrov, Kancheli favors simple, diatonic textures, doubled
between the piano and the strings, and the simplest of accompaniments. For all
its melodic appeal, this remains, at least for me, a radical, even provocative
aesthetic stance.
Excellent performances throughout from Blumina and the Stuttgart Chamber
Orchestra under Thomas Sanderling. This music isn’t about virtuosity or high
level technical skills, but the sheer amount of rhythmic unison and the radical
simplicity of the textures make perfect ensemble and tuning a key requirement,
and that is exactly what we hear. The climax of the Ustvolskaya feels a little
underwhelming, but it is difficult to decide whether the performers or the,
still little-experienced, composer are to blame. I could also imagine the junctions
in the Kancheli to be more pointed, although excessive drama would probably
ruin the effect. At the other end of the spectrum, the delicate, quiet string textures
are ideal, especially for the Silvestrov. Maintaining that sound throughout the
Hymn must be real challenge, and the
last of the Postludes gradually
disappears to nothing, a beautiful effect, especially as presented here.
This review appears in Fanfare magazine issue 40:3
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