WEINBERG Children’s Songs. Beyond the Border of Past Days. Rocking the Child • Olga Kalugina (sop); Svetlana Nikolayeve (mez); Dmitri Korostelyov (pn) • TOCCATA 0078 (60:12 Text and Translation)


Mieczyslaw Weinberg (to use what has become the preferred spelling of a composer whose music is hard to find because of the various ways he is listed—Vainberg, Vaynberg, Weinberg) was born in Poland in 1919. He spent most of his life in the Soviet Union, and was a close friend and colleague of Shostakovich, whose influence on Weinberg was very strong.Weinberg had fled the Nazis in 1939, escaping from a horror that saw his parents and sister murdered, settling first in Minsk then hiding again from Nazis in Uzbekistan. In 1943, Shostakovich invited him to move to Moscow, where he lived until his death in 1996. Weinberg wrote 26 symphonies (one fewer than Miaskovsky!), 17 string quartets, other chamber works, a few hundred songs, sonatas and concertos for various instruments, seven operas, much incidental music for film and the theater, and much else. His music is finally being discovered by an enterprising record industry that has run out of room for more Beethoven or Mahler! If it is unlikely that Weinberg will enter the central canon in a way that Shostakovich has, it does seem as if he might occupy an important place on the periphery, perhaps similar to that now occupied by Nielsen.


It is easy to point to the Shostakovich influences on his music; one hears it in many of the songs that make up these three cycles (particularly Rocking the Child ). But he is not a carbon copy of Shostakovich, and certainly not a “poor man’s Shostakovich.” Weinberg has his own musical face, and the more of his music one hears, the more familiar it becomes. The Shostakovich relationship is handy as a tool for placing Weinberg, stylistically, to someone unfamiliar with his music. If you respond to the music of Shostakovich, you are very likely to find Weinberg attractive.


But there is a touch more restraint and straight-forward lyricism in Weinberg; he doesn’t always show the anguish, the pain that one hears in Shostakovich’s scores, nor does he demonstrate quite the same degree of sarcastic wit. Not that those qualities are not there (and there are some works, such as the Requiem, that sear with their pain), but they are perhaps just a bit less extreme in Weinberg. The Jewish influence on Weinberg’s music is strong—and although Shostakovich was influenced by klezmer and other Jewish musical traditions (just listen to the Piano Trio), it is a more integral and consistent part of Weinberg’s art, perhaps stemming in part from his roots as a pianist and conductor at a Warsaw Jewish theater. It is particularly present in the Children’s Songs and Rocking the Child , more subtle in Beyond the Border of Past Days.


The Children’s Songs, op. 13, are set to poems by Itzhol Lejb Perez; Beyond the Border of Past Days sets poems by Alexander Blok (Shostakovich’s Blok songs are among his finest); and Rocking the Child to poems of Gabriela Mistral. The Perez and Mistral poems are translated into Russian and set in that language. Thanks to Toccata Classics for providing Cyrillic and English texts (no transliteration, but that seems only a minor problem). Excellent notes by David Fanning round out the high production values.


The two singers are satisfying. Children’s Songs and Rocking the Child are for soprano, Beyond the Border of Past Days for mezzo. Both singers have a bit of what we like to call that Slavic edge, but it is not too severe. Both are masterful at shaping the music, and they and pianist Dmitri Korostelyov do not seem to be sight-reading the material at all. One feels that they are deeply into the music. Natural and well-balanced sound completes the picture. This disc is a major addition to the catalogue, introducing us to some deeply moving music.


FANFARE: Henry Fogel

KOSENKO 11 Etudes in the Form of Old Dances, op. 19 • Natalya Shkoda (pn) • TOCCATA 36 (69:01)


Viktor Stempanovich Kosenko (1896–1938) trained at the St. Petersburg Conservatory, where he studied composition and theory with Mikhail Sokolov, a Rimsky-Korsakov pupil, and piano with Irina Miklashevskaya. His early years were hard, much as they certainly were for most other artists of his generation in a young Soviet Union. It wasn’t until 1929 that his employment prospects began to improve with a teaching position at Kiev’s Lysenko Institute of Music and Drama. In 1934, he accepted a post at the Kiev Conservatory, and in 1938, he received the Order of the Red Banner. With many concerts, a great deal of teaching, and a small number of published works to his credit, Kosenko died in his early forties of kidney cancer.


As for the Eleven Etudes , they fit into a genre of “olden style” pieces that reflected late 19th/early 20th-century nostalgia for a sentimentalized or nationalized 17th- or 18th-century past. A variety of composers tried their hand at this, including Grieg, Parry, Elgar, Giordano, Massenet, Reger, and Saint-Saëns, among others. Their works were never intended to be mistaken for period music, but were amiable stylizations that embedded thematic, harmonic, or contrapuntal devices in a generalized Romantic language, then poured the results into small-scaled Baroque or Classical dance forms.


Kosenko’s collection of gavottes, minuets, courantes, rigaudons, etc, fits perfectly into this group. It’s conventionally Romantic, with nothing evident of the olden style save in titles and a very occasional turn of phrase. Brahms, instead, is the main influence on Kosenko. Rhetorical devices and harmonic progressions occasionally point directly to specific pieces by the older master (the Sarabande in A Minor glances at Brahms’s Piano Concerto in D Minor), but the overall sense is of a composer finding his own creativity in the language of another, rather than simply as a Brahmsian manqué. The quality of the works varies, but at their best, they demonstrate some imagination, an idiomatic use of the instrument, and a good deal of charm.


Yet even if the music had no significant quality of its own, it would still be interesting because it had been composed at the end of the 1920s in the Soviet Union. This was a period unfriendly to traditional nationalists like Glière, much less composers who “whored after foreign gods.” (Fears of ideological contamination from abroad have a lengthy history in Russia, and the government there has always played this card successfully—much as governments have done elsewhere, but seldom with such ceaseless success.) Although the radicals of the Russian Association of Proletarian Musicians who briefly controlled the Soviet musical apparatus in the late 1920s were never as doctrinally unified as some musicologists believe, their repeated friendliness to Kosenko is surprising. Beginning in 1927, they invited the composer to give a concert of his music in Kharkov each year, for three consecutive years. Kosenko was also allowed to publish some of his music at that time, and his teaching position at the Lysenko Institute has already been mentioned. None of this would have been possible without RAPM intervention; yet these were the same people who urged the desertion of traditional classical structures for “revolutionary” ones, and the abandonment of the classical repertoire as bourgeois and formalistic. Perhaps RAPM’s Ukrainian branch was more ideologically flexible than its Russian one? The whole matter remains curious, and in need of greater elucidation through modern scholarship.


Natalya Shkoda’s thesis project for her Ph.D. earlier this year in piano performance at Arizona State University was a combination of this CD and a research paper on Kosenko’s op. 19. I hope the research paper went well, because the CD is an attractive testament to her current level of skill. She displays a solid technique and a convincing ability to modulate between the intimacy of such works as the Gavotte in B Minor (a lovely little thing, Brahms in an autumnal mood) and the ambitious, flashy Passacaglia. Her rhythmic sense is elastic, and her affection and knowledge of this music is obvious at every turn.


Sound quality is good and close, with fine presence along the full range of the instrument. Shkoda herself supplies the better than average notes. As this is marked volume 1, I assume more is on the way, and I sincerely look forward to hearing it, too.


FANFARE: Barry Brenesal

This is an issue of considerable potential significance, the opening installment in what is planned as a complete recording of Telemann’s 1725/26 Harmonischer Gottes-Dienst, the first integral cycle of church cantatas for the liturgical year ever published. Ever the astute self-publicist, Telemann had first announced in the Hamburg press plans to publish a cycle of cantatas as early as 1723, but the late delivery of the texts by the poet, Pastor Michael Brandenburg, forced Telemann to turn to a new cycle, Harmonischer Gottes-Dienst. For this, he sought the help of various poets, but in the end employed texts that were mostly the work of a young Hamburg writer, Arnold Wilckens, who based them largely on the Epistle for the day.

Planned more with domestic than church use in mind, the 72 cantatas are chamber works scored for a single voice, an obbligato instrument (specified with characteristic pragmatism by the composer as “a violin, or oboe, or flute, or recorder”), and continuo. The earliest cantatas of the cycle, sold by subscription, were ready by the end of 1725, in time for the issue of the first in the cycle, the cantata for New Year’s Day. Numerous reprints and the number of published copies still extant testify to the success of the venture, a success that was doubtless responsible for Telemann issuing a second collection in 1731–32.

The first six cantatas to be issued in Toccata’s new series are all for high voice, and cover a wide range of the liturgical year. The claim that four cantatas (TWV 1:941, TWV 1:730, TWV 1:1502, and TWV 1:96) are first recordings is untrue, the first three being available in current recordings. Toccata has also got in a mess with their TWV numbering, giving Hemmet den Eifer the number of In gering (wrongly listed as TWV1:549) instead of its correct number, TWV1:730. Hemmet den Eifer is also erroneously listed on the cover as being for the First Sunday after Epiphany rather than the Fourth, although the booklet gets it right. Not an auspicious start for an ambitious series.

The form of each cantata is the same: opening and closing da capo arias framing a lengthy plain (or secco) recitative. The use of rhetorical gesture is a feature of the cantatas, either in obvious mimetic ways such as the graphic shakes on the word “regen” (“trembling”) in the opening aria of TWV1:1040, or with greater musical subtlety when the music of TWV 1: 1502’s first aria becomes disjointed to illustrate the impotence of mortal wisdom “to gain complete perfection.” Hemmet den Eifer starts in strikingly bold fashion with an aria demanding “Stifle your eagerness/banish revenge,” but the most dramatic music here is to be found in “Du bist verflucht” (“You are accursed”), the opening aria of TWV1:213 for the Fourth Sunday of Lent. Here a turbulent accompaniment underpins a colorfully declamatory text, the “voice of terror” inspiring a headlong chromatic descent in the voice, fearfully dogged by the recorder.

Mona Julsrud’s account of these six cantatas is generally very satisfying. She is a bright, agile soprano with a good technique that gets her around ornaments with ease, phrases musically, and sings with clarity and good diction. But on the debit side, the voice lacks distinctive color, and there’s a tendency for upper notes to sound “hooty.” She is well supported by the members of Bergen Barokk, although it might have provided greater interest had at least one of Telemann’s alternative obbligato instruments been employed rather than using a recorder throughout. Other than the solecisms noted above, the presentation is good, with a slipcase that includes the disc, and an informative 60-page booklet that deserves full credit for printing the relevant biblical text before each cantata. Good sound. Overall, this is a promising, if not perfect start to a project one wishes every success.

FANFARE: Brian Robins