Includes work(s) by Alfred Schnittke. Ensemble: Tapiola Sinfonietta. Conductor: Ralf Gothóni. Soloists: Ralf Gothóni, Tero Latvala, Ulf Wallin.

Classical Music

SCHNITTKE: Piano Quintet / String Trio / Stille Musik

111 musicians celebrating a large-scale symphony sounds like a performance of a work by Mahler, Strauss or early Schönberg. In fact, the composer of this symphony, Alfred Schnittke, had precisely these (and other) composers in mind back in 1981. Whereas he initially mirrored styles from these and otrher composers, he soon was borrowing concepts from “trivial music” folklore, jazz, tango, etc… was He himself described his compositional technique as “polystylistic; which was more than just a technique but an aesthetic program: a serious effort to break through the vicious circle of self-satisfied and self-sufficient avant-garde music. His Third Symphony testifies to all this searching, this “inbetweenness”. The four-movement work, written on commission to inaugurate the new Leipzig Gewandhaus, confronted not only a multi-layered historical past but a weakened current state of affairs while remaining highly respectful of the achievements of the past and present. Vladimir Jurowski leads the Berlin Radio-Symphony Orchestra in this recording of a great and intricate work.

SCHNITTKE Violin Sonatas: Nos. 1–3. Violin Sonata (1955) • Carolyn Huebl (vn); Mark Wait (pn) • NAXOS 8.570978 (69:20)


The four violin sonatas by Alfred Schnittke (1934–98) could be seen as representing four distinct periods in his life and career. The newly discovered Violin Sonata (1955) was a student work, so it did not receive a place in his official catalog. It anticipates none of Schnittke’s later experimental or dramatically extravagant devices, consisting of a largely romantic first movement featuring an adept and impulsive, if generic, development of his material, and a folk-like second-movement theme subjected to three distinct variations. The so-called First Sonata (1963) is a large leap forward in risk-taking and character, the first movement beginning with a 12-tone theme presented in concisely lyrical and eloquent fashion, followed by a gnomish dance; a reserved, hymnlike movement with Messiaenic piano accompaniment; and a lilting, quasi-fugal finale. The Sonata No. 2 (1968), subtitled “Quasi una Sonata,” was one of his breakthrough works—a single, extended, intuitively designed movement that plays with the conventional relationship between the two instruments, breaks apart and juxtaposes material of varying stylistic demeanor and mood, and employs advanced techniques, especially in the violin. By the time of his Sonata No. 3 (1994), Schnittke had suffered several near-death illnesses and many of his works of this period, such as this one, display a deeply contemplative melancholy and passionate outbursts suggesting a metaphysical struggle. There are moments here, especially in the stark, sparse passages of the final two movements, reminiscent of Shostakovich’s late-in-life violin and viola sonatas.


This being the only currently available collection of all four sonatas on a single disc, it is fortunate that violinist Carolyn Huebl and pianist Mark Wait make such a convincing argument for each of these distinctive works. They handle the variety and contrasts of Schnittke’s polystylistic perspective with sensitivity and security, and adapt their impressive tonal resources to every demand the composer makes. It’s a shame that Gidon Kremer, such a strong advocate for Schnittke’s violin concertos, has not (yet?) turned his attention to the sonatas, although he has recorded the orchestral version of the Sonata No. 2 that Schnittke made in 1987. (There is also an orchestral version of the Sonata No. 1, dating from 1968.) For the historically minded, Mark Lubotsky, who premiered the three numbered sonatas, recorded the First and Second for Ondine with pianist Ralf Gothóni, and, on another Ondine disc, documented the Third with the added bonus of the composer’s wife, Irina Schnittke, on piano. The Joanna Kurkowicz/Sergey Schepkin duo has received praise in these pages for their Bridge recording of the first two as well. But if you’re in the market for an engaging and inexpensive introduction to this music, you need look no further.


FANFARE: Art Lange

SCHNITTKE Concerto for Choir. Three Sacred Hymns. Voices of Nature. PÄRT Dopo la vittoria • Peter Dijkstra, cond; Bavarian R Ch • BR 900505 (61:38 Text and Translation)


The continuing popularity of Schnittke’s music is fuelled as much by the enthusiasm of performers as by that of audiences. That’s especially true of the Choir Concerto, although the motivations of the choirs who have approached it have not always worked in the Concerto’s favor. The music is based on 19th-century Russian Orthodox traditions, so the aesthetic is largely tonal, or at least modal, but the demands on the singers are extreme. Extended passages in loud dynamics and encompassing the far ends of the tessitura are the rule rather than the exception, and many professional choirs have treated the piece as a vehicle to showcase their virtuosity. Unfortunately, the result has been many performances that have been given just to show that the performers can sing the work at all, not that they can sing it well.


When it comes to recordings the situation is very different. There are only a handful on the market, but all are good, and this new one from the Bavarian Radio Choir sits well alongside the competition. The benchmark remains Valery Polyansky, whose two recordings, from 1988 and 1991, perfectly capture the liturgical atmosphere of this music but without sacrificing any detail. He also has the advantage of Russian singers, with all the benefits that suggests in terms of pronunciation and focused, weighty bass. Polynasky’s two recordings are very similar: The first, with the USSR Ministry of Culture Chamber Choir, was released on the state-owned Gramzapis label, while the second, with the Russian State Symphonic Cappella, is on Chandos. It would take a keener ear than mine to hear the differences between the two, and as the venue and production team are exactly the same, it raises the suspicion that these are in fact the same choir and the same recording. But whatever Chandos was up to here, the company has certainly done the work proud, later releasing a second recording, with the Danish National Radio Choir under Stefan Parkman. It has the same liner note, but is a markedly different reading, more expansive and less focused. It too is excellent, but Polyansky retains the edge. Since then there has been a British contender, from the Holst Singers under Stephen Layton on Hyperion. That’s a good recording too, but like the Danes the Holst Singers emphasize atmosphere at the expense of detail. In both cases, the choir is relatively small and has really to push to get the volume required for the louder passages.


This new recording from Peter Dijkstra is probably the best one since Polyansky. He has an impressively large choir at his disposal, and an impressively professional one too. His reading is considerably faster than all the others on the market. On all the previous recordings, the first movement comes in at over 17 minutes, but Dijkstra delivers it in 14:48. Yet it never sounds rushed, and the singers retain a sense of poise throughout. This is, I think, the first commercial recording to be made in a studio rather than a church, which may explain the shorter running time. The sound is reverberant enough for the music’s liturgical character, but Dijkstra never has to wait at the end of phrases for the sound to die away before continuing.


My only major complaint is the lack of agogic definition. Schnittke’s setting of the text skillfully propels the music through the use of hard downbeat consonants, and in the second movement in particular, those regular and rhythmic entries give the music pulse and pace, however much reverberation is involved. Here the accents are often lost in the sonority of the textures, a result perhaps of his large choir, although not an automatic one. Also, the far ends of the tessitura are not served here as well as they are by Polyansky’s choir(s). Enough basses are deployed to ensure the sound is bottom-heavy when required, but the singers don’t have the focus of tone that a smaller Russian basso profundo group could offer. And the sopranos occasionally struggle with the loud high passages. That’s true of all the commercial recordings, but again, Polyansky gives us the best high notes.


Compared to the substance and dramatic weight of the Concerto, the remaining works seem insubstantial indeed, but they’re worth hearing nonetheless. The Three Sacred Hymns were all written in a single night, and show a fluency of melodic and harmonic writing that comes with masterful composition at that speed. The Hymns are the closest Schnittke ever got to actual Orthodox liturgical music and fit within most of the stylistic prescriptions, the only exception being that he uses a mixed choir. The Bavarian voices are less taxed here technically, although they are still at a disadvantage to their Russian colleagues in terms of style. But actually they do a very good job of sounding like a Russian church choir and the music is given a very fine performance. Voices of Nature is a work for 10 female voices singing vocalise and a very subtly deployed vibraphone. Stylistically, it sits somewhere between Orthodox liturgy and the more consonant sonorism of late Penderecki. Like the Three Hymns it is fairly inconsequential music, and poses few problems for the singers here.


Several other short works by Schnittke could have been chosen to round out the program, but instead we are offered Arvo Pärt’s unaccompanied cantata Dopo la vittoria . The comparison between this and Schnittke’s Choir Concerto would put Pärt in a poor light, but the comparison that the program suggests instead is with the Sacred Hymns and with Voices of Nature . The similarities are strong, and attest to the fact that the composers were close friends for many years. We don’t tend to think of Schnittke as a religious minimalist these days, but the comparison with Pärt here shows that he did at least dabble.


Recording quality is very good (why no SACD?) and the choir throughout sounds immediate and clear, but without that detail detracting from the overall warmth of sound. Chances are that Schnittke’s Choir Concerto will continue to appear on commercial recordings in the years to come, but it is unlikely that any subsequent releases will be significantly better than this one.


FANFARE: Gavin Dixon

Danish cellist, Carl-Oscar Østerlind (b. 1984) is one of his generation ?s most versatile musicians. He has been described by the Los Angeles Times as a “superb cellist” and was recently awarded the Danish Arts Council ?s career grant “Den Unge Elite”. In 2010 he won the Danish String Competition and was a top prizewinner of the “Ljunggrenska Competition” in Sweden. Carl-Oscar Østerlind appeared as a soloist and chamber musician at festivals such as Ravinia Festival’s Steans Music Institute, Piatigorsky Cello Festival, Verbier Festival, Ipalpiti Festival, Prussia Cove ?s “Open Chamber Music” and Bergen Festspillene. As a concerto soloist, he performed in front of orchestras in Denmark, Sweden, USA and Mexico.

Cello Recital: Gustafsson, Jan-Erik - SZYMANOWSKI, K. / KODA

REVIEW:

On the face of it, it makes good sense to group these three relatively early works by Schnittke together on one disc, and the documentary interest of the issue is enhanced by the fact that both sonatas are dedicated to Mark Lubotsky. The downside is that Schnittke is rarely at his best in these pieces, and the recording allows the piano too great a degree of rather harsh prominence.

The First Sonata (1963), which documents Schnittke's emergence from the cocoon of conformity to a style that owes much to Shostakovich, and its wide range of reference, from serialism to Latin American rhythms, is now less striking than the skill with which Schnittke shapes the third movement's gradually intensifying melodic line. In the Second Sonata (1968), again, it is the growth of continuity out of fragmentation that impresses, giving the single-movement structure a substance it would otherwise lack. Even so, the sonata is more a manifesto of defiance than a fully realized proposal for a new musical order. It is to the credit of both performers that they don't try to oversell the music's aura of iconoclasm, though a recording more favorable to the violin would have done these well-considered accounts greater justice.

Schnittke concocted his Suite in the old style (1972) from various film scores. It would be unduly censorious to complain of the composer's self-indulgence in music as charming as this, and in any case a more sinister note enters the final ''Pantomime''. Here, at least, the authentically alarming later Schnittke briefly stands revealed.

-- Arnold Whittall, Gramophone [4/1994]