VASKS Lonely Angel (Vientuļais
eņģelis) (version for piano trio). Episodi
e canto perpetuo. Plainscapes (Līdzenuma ainavas)
(version for piano trio)
Trio Palladio
ONDINE 1343-2 (62:05)
Buy from:
New classical music releases reviewed in detail by Gavin Dixon
Friday, 28 February 2020
VASKS Lonely Angel Trio Palladio
Buy from:
Like most of the composers loosely grouped into the “Eastern
Minimalist” school, Pēteris Vasks
regularly makes arrangements of his works for different ensembles. This disc
presents three piano trios, but only the second, Episodi e canto perpetuo
(1985), was originally written for these forces. The opening Lonely Angel (this
version 2019) was originally the fifth movement of Vasks’s Fifth String
Quartet, composed in 1999 for the Kronos Quartet, while Plainscapes (2011) was
originally for violin, cello, and choir, that version written in 2002 and
premiered by Gidon Kremer. But the sound of solo violin and cello is a common
factor linking each of these works in their various versions, “my beloved
strings” as Vasks describes them in justification for the original scoring of
Plainscapes.
Lonely Angel and Plainscapes are both classic Vasks,
slow-moving, contemplative scores, the individual lines based on repeating
phrases, but the music always retaining a sense of mystery through the
harmonies, tonally ambiguous and often resting on mild but sustained
dissonance. The music also has a sense of direction and evolution that
distinguishes it from the more static scores of Arvo Pärt, yet the direction
itself remains nebulous and intangible. Vasks talks in mystical terms about
Lonely Angel, dedicated to his own guardian angel, and also inspired by a
painting by Hugo Simberg, The Wounded Angel. Plainscapes is inspired by nature,
specifically the Zemgale plain region of Southern Latvia. The original version
culminates with the choir imitating birdsong, an effect that Vasks has reworked
into a spectacular, though still atmospheric, piano solo. The work apparently
has a sectional structure of interconnected sub-movements, but the aural
experience is of gradually evolving continuity.
Episodi e canto perpetuo is an early work, and a fascinating
window onto the early development of Vasks’s style. The piece was written in
response to Messiaen’s Quartet for the End of Time, and even without hearing
it, a connection seems obvious between the serene slow-moving string solos of
Messiaen’s score and similar textures in Vasks’s mature music. Episodi seems
like a transitional stage between the two. Like Messiaen’s quartet, it is
structured in eight movements. A quiet and meditative mood prevails, but the
serenity of the string solos is emphasized through contrast to a series of
oppressive climaxes, where heavy, dissonant textures are hammered out by all of
the instruments, and sustained too long for comfort.
Not an easy listening disc, then, and even the quieter works
have an expressive intensity that focuses the listener’s attention. The
performances are excellent. Trio Palladio is an all-Latvian ensemble, made up
of pianist Reinis Zariņš; Eva Bindere, concertmaster of Kremerata Baltica; and
Kristīne Blaumane, principal cello on the London Philharmonic. The players are
pictured with Vasks in the liner, which also states that the arrangement of
Lonely Angel was made specifically for the album. The sheer virtuosity of the
string playing is an asset in all three works. The recorded sound is warm and
involving, an ECM-style sound picture, ideal for this music.
This review appears in Fanfare magazine issue 43:5.
Thursday, 27 February 2020
Tishchenko Harp Concerto Marinutsa Sugako
Boris Tishchenko
(1939–2010) To My Brother, op. 98. Testament, op. 96. Harp Concerto, op. 69
Ionella
Marinutsa (hp)
Anara Khassenova
(sop)
Artem Naumenko
(fl)
Anna Homenya
(org)
International
Parisian Symphony Orchestra
Mikhail Sugako,
cond
NAXOS 8.579048
(53:25)
Buy from:
Boris Tishchenko (1939–2010) is routinely described as
the direct successor to Shostakovich, including on the blurb for this release. So
are many other Russian composers of his generation, especially when, like
Tishchenko, they specialized in symphonies and concertos. Tishchenko studied
with Shostakovich, and also with Ustvolskaya, and inherited much from both,
though in the case of Ustvolskaya, only from her “official” side. But
Tishchenko’s music is rarely as anguished as theirs. While conservative in
style—and fully meeting Socialist Realist requirements—there is a questing,
exploratory aspect to his music, often experimenting with unusual tone colors
and exploring surprising instrumental combinations.
Those are the strongest qualities of the three works
presented here. The disc is titled Complete
Works for Harp, which seems arbitrary, given that the program is made up of
a substantial concerto with two short songs as filler, both with harp in the accompanying
ensemble. But the program does make sense, as the soprano from the songs, Anara
Khassenova, returns in the concerto to provide a vocalize obbligato in the
fourth of its five movements.
The two songs were composed in 1986, the first in
memory of the composers’ brother, Mikhail. Confusingly, the two works both set
poems called “Testament,” the first by Lermontov, the second by the Modernist
poet Nikolay Zabolotsky. In the first, soprano and flute are equal partners,
exchanging lyrical phrases over the harp’s sometimes petulant accompaniment. Testament replaces the flute with an
organ, which balances the percussive interjections of the harp.
The concerto was composed in 1977, for the composer’s
third wife, Irina
Donskaya-Tishchenko. Her recording has been reissued on Northern Flowers 9963. Although the work is long—over 40 minutes—the scale of the musical
expression is generally modest. Perhaps with an eye to balance between harp and
ensemble, Tishchenko rarely employs the full orchestra (just a chamber ensemble
in any case), instead matching the harp to solo instruments for extended duets.
This often plays out as Klangfarbenmelodie,
as one accompanying instrument gives way to another of similar tone. Tishchenko
also takes a coloristic approach to modality, and the soloist moves between two
harps with different tunings. The harp writing is fairly conventional, though
more adventurous than the continual arpeggios that make up most orchestral
writing for the instrument. There are occasional glissandos, but otherwise most
of the solo part is made up of single-line melodies and chordal interjections.
Ionella Marinutsa is a Russian harpist, based in
Paris. In fact, the conductor and all of the soloists are from former Soviet
republics but now Paris-based. Marinutsa gives fine performances, suitably elegiac
and reflective in the concerto’s many quiet moments, and always sustaining the
melodic line. Soprano Khassenova has a rich, even tone, which balances well
against the harp. The International Parisian Symphony Orchestra appears to be a
pick-up group, founded as recently as December 2018 by the present conductor
and here making its recording debut. The players cope well with the exposure of
their minimally accompanied solos, but the ensemble playing is ordinary and
lacks color. Packaging and documentation are the usual Naxos bare bones, though
Richard Whitehouse’s generous liner note includes translations of the poems, but
without the Russian originals.
This review
appears in Fanfare magazine issue 43:5.
Wednesday, 26 February 2020
Karl Weigl String Quartets 7 and 8 Thomas Christian Ensemble
Weigl String
Quartets Nos. 7 and 8
Thomas Christian
Ensemble
CPO 555 201-2
(54:45)
Buy from:
The CPO label regularly unearths composers of the
late-Romantic era who have fallen into obscurity. Karl Weigl (1881–1949) fits
that bill, although he is not completely unknown on records, and this is one of
12 discs of his music currently available, on a range of labels—though the only
one to present either of these works. Weigl’s path to relative obscurity is a
wearingly familiar one: a Jewish musician in Vienna, well-respected and
reasonably successful, forced to flee the Nazis, then exiled in America and
forgotten. But Weigl’s story doesn’t quite fit the mould, especially as his
time in the States was more successful than that of his many colleagues,
especially Zemlinsky, who had been his teacher, and Schreker, who had
previously conducted Weigl’s orchestral works. Weigl arrived in New York in
1938, and established himself as a piano soloist, and also performed piano duets
with his wife, the composer Vally Weigl. He also pursued an increasingly
successful career as a teacher, with appointments at the Hartt School of Music,
the Boston Conservatory, and the Philadelphia Academy of Music. These two
string quartets, his last, were written during these years, in 1942 and 1949
respectively. The Eighth was one of his final works, and neither was performed
in his lifetime.
Weigl brought to America a wealth of Viennese
tradition. His outlook was largely traditional, yet his position in the culture
wars of turn-of-the-century Vienna is difficult to pin down. The excellent
liner note, by Michael Haas, offers some clues. Schoenberg admired Weigl’s
music, and described him as “one of the best composers of [the] older
generation … ” a curious statement, given that Schoenberg was seven years
younger than Weigl. What he meant was that Weigl was “ … one of those who
continued the dignified Viennese tradition of the Porporas, Fuxes,
Alberchtsbergers and Sechters.” But the fact that Schoenberg rated Weigl’s
music at all suggests that he was far from a reactionary conservative. The
aesthetic path of Weigl’s music paralleled the Second Viennese School, at least
in the first decade of the century. And even if it remains tonally-oriented,
and broadly Romantic, right up to the end, there is a radical streak here, and
an individual voice. Brahms is an over-riding influence, as he was for almost
every composer of the era, but Weigl shapes the Brahmsian model—of rigorous
counterpoint and intricate rhythmic working—in a satisfyingly personal way.
Of these two string quartets, the real find is No. 7.
Both quartets are on a similar scale, 30 and 24 minutes respectively, and both
traditionally structured, but the Seventh is much the more involving. The
opening movement resembles Reger, with Brahmsian counterpoint over adventurous
harmonies, but is less fraught. The second movement, an Allegro molto scherzo, is biting and rhythmically focused. Mid-way
through a stamping folk dance appears in the cello, but, typically for Weigl,
it dissipates after just a few bars, giving way to rigorous development of its
motifs. The slow third movement is a gem: one of those Adagios were time seems to stand still, with long melodic lines,
always logical but never predictable, and a background that merely suggests
tonal areas and chordal warmth. It is a direct successor to the third movement
of Mahler’s Fourth Symphony, and just as engaging.
The Eighth Quartet is more austere. Again the textures
are mostly built on extended passages of rigorous counterpoint, but, unlike in
the Seventh, this seems more the subject than the medium. Harmonies are colder,
and the textures more brittle. But the music is often involving too. The slow
opening of the last movement is particularly attractive, another atmospheric
moment of delicately contoured counterpoint, hanging weightlessly in the upper
register of the instruments, an effect of almost orchestral sophistication.
The performances and recordings here are excellent.
The Thomas Christian Ensemble is a chamber music collective organized by the
eponymous Christian, who here leads an quartet of Raimund Lissy, second violin;
Robert Bauerstatter, viola; and Bernhard Naoki Hedenborg, cello; that last name
familiar from the roster of the Vienna Philharmonic. Weigl’s contrapuntal style
it well represented in performances of great detail and clarity. Vibrato is
kept to a minimum, and balances within the group are carefully gauged.
Christian’s violin dominates the sound picture, and his tone sometimes narrows
in the upper register, but again, this isn’t the sort of music that invites
warmth and richness from its players. The CPO recording is similarly dry and
detailed, though not claustrophobic or overly analytical. A fascinating
release, recommended primarily for the Seventh Quartet.
This review
appears in Fanfare magazine issue 43:5.
