Talivaldis Keninš (1919–2008) is a name that is not known to most classical listeners despite of his long international career as a composer. This album presents three orchestral works by one of Latvia’s greatest 20th century composers performed by the Latvian National Symphony Orchestra under the baton of Andris Poga and Guntis Kuzma.

Although born in Latvia, Keninš lived most of his life as an exile. He was educated in Paris, where he studied under Tony Aubin and Olivier Messiaen, and won several awards. Keninš emigrated to Canada in 1951and became a respected pedagogue and a very influential figure in Canada’s music life.

Alongside his pedagogic work he wrote a sizeable catalogue of works, including several symphonies and concertos. According to Keninš, chamber music was the highest form of art. His Concerto di camera No. 1 (1981) reveals his love for chamber music. The work contains hints of Bartók. The composer himself mentioned Mozart’s concertos as his model when writing the work. Concerto for Piano, Strings and Percussion (1990) was completed shortly after the composer’s first visit to Latvia since the 1940s. Latvia was struggling to regain its independence and the work has a particularly tense and tragic atmosphere. When the work was premiered in Canada, the composer drew attention to the events unfolding in his home country when describing the work. Keninš wrote his First Symphony in 1959. This expressive work represents well the element of Latvian folk music in the composer’s work fusing it together with contemporary elements. Upon its premiere, the work received several performances in Canada, including CBC radio broadcasts.

The first album of orchestral works by one of Latvia’s most prominent composers, Talivaldis Keninš (1919–2008), released in October 2020 has received a warm response from music critics around the world. This second volume by the Latvian National Symphony Orchestra under conductor Guntis Kuzma includes two symphonies from the 1970s alongside another concertante gem, Canzona Sonata for viola and string orchestra.

Although born in Latvia, Ķeniņš lived most of his life as an exile. He was educated in Paris, where he studied under Tony Aubin and Olivier Messiaen, and won several awards. Ķeniņš emigrated to Canada in 1951 and became a respected pedagogue and a very influential figure in Canada’s music life. Alongside his pedagogic work he wrote a sizeable catalogue of works, including several symphonies and concertos. At first Ķeniņš focused on writing works of chamber music and completed his first symphony relatively late, in 1959. During the 1970s and 80s, Ķeniņš wrote several symphonies more becoming a major symphonist. The two symphonies included in this volume are compact orchestral scores from the 1970s. Symphony No. 4 is rich with its fine French orchestral textures, while Symphony No. 6 is an impressive symphonic work based on a fugue theme. The expressive Canzona Sonata for viola and string orchestra written in 1986 is a relatively late work and a wonderful example of the composer’s skills in writing concertante music.

Latvian composer Pēteris Vasks (b. 1946) is one of the most prominent names among living composers today. This album by the Latvian National Symphony Orchestra conducted by Andris Poga includes the first recording of Vasks’ atmospheric and pastoral Oboe Concerto written for the centenary celebrations of Latvia’s independence in 2018 and performed by one of today’s leading oboists, Albrecht Mayer. The new concerto is coupled with two early orchestral works from the 1980s, Vestijums and Lauda – both musical manifestations from the final years of the Soviet Union when occupied Latvia started its peaceful fight to regain the country’s independence.

REVIEW:

Although he was a septuagenarian when he composed this Oboe Concerto in 2018, on a commission from oboist Albrecht Mayer, the music of composer Pēteris Vasks has continued to evolve. The inclusion here of two of Vasks’ 1980s orchestral works is to the point, for they are clearly works of the same composer as the Oboe Concerto, showing a characteristic departure from Baltic minimalism in a Romantic direction. Yet Vasks’ weaving of Romantic and minimalist has deepened over the years. One feels that the performances here by are unusually committed; the effect is hypnotic. The detailed notes, providing a good deal of context relevant to the development of Vasks’ increasingly influential music, form another attraction.

-- AllMusic.com (James Manheim)

Arturs Maskats (b. 1957) is an award-winning Latvian composer who has been at the center of Latvian cultural life for decades, especially in the field of theater and opera. Besides operas, incidental music and film music, his catalogue of works includes several orchestral works and concertos, songs and choral works. Maskats’ compositions are tonal, often romantic and cinematic, and marked by deep atmosphere. One of Maskats’ latest creations in the field orchestral music is his Accordion Concerto (2021) here performed by his fellow Latvian, star-accordionist Ksenija Sidorova, one of the brightest names in classical music today. His Tango (2002) for symphony orchestra is Maskats’ internationally most well-known and one of the most often performed orchestral pieces of Latvian music.

REVIEW:

A wonderfully diverse collection of music from this contemporary Latvian composer whose work spans a number of different musical fields. The spirited Tango (2002) pairs well with the very recent Accordion Concerto “What the wind told the sea” and is followed by a further two pieces, Cantus Diatonicus (1982) and the extended My river runs to thee from 2019. All of this music was new to me and very enjoyable.

-- Lark Reviews (Stephen Page)

Final volume in the first-ever complete recorded cycle of symphonies by Talivaldis Keninš (1919–2008), one of the most prominent post-WW2 composers in Latvia and Canada. This album includes three of the composer’s eight numbered symphonies performed by the Latvian National Symphony Orchestra under Andris Poga.

Although born in Latvia, Keninš lived most of his life as an exile. He was educated in Paris, where he studied under Tony Aubin and Olivier Messiaen, and won several awards. Keninš emigrated to Canada in 1951 and became a respected pedagogue and a very influential figure in Canada’s music life. Alongside his eight symphonies, the composer also wrote 12 concertos. However, he also included many concertante elements in his symphonies and the Symphony No. 2, “Sinfonia concertante” (1967), scored for three wind instruments and symphony orchestra, is very close to a triple concerto. The symphony’s extensive second movement is based on a lullaby of the Mi’kmaq First Nations people. Symphony No. 3 (1970) was completed few years after its predecessor and is a step forward in the composer’s journey as a symphonist. Here we encounter the idea of a lyrical hero, which, in the ears of the listener, could be personified. Although many consider Kenins’ 8th Symphony to be his symphonic climax, the 7th Symphony (1980) is by no means a lesser work: it could be even considered as one of the composer’s most personal and intimate creations. The symphony ends with an aria based on a text by the composer’s father and the atmosphere of the work seems to stem from the composer’s emotional trauma on the occupation of his native Latvia by the Soviet troops.

REVIEW:

Ķeniņš composed his first symphony when he was forty and almost a decade elapsed before he turned to the genre again. However, his Symphony No 2 “Sinfonia concertante” does not strictly adhere to any symphonic mould. That the composer had a trio of wind instruments as some sort of a concertino tends to show that he was not completely sure of how to tackle that form again. This also shows is the lay-out of the piece, i.e three movements of strongly contrasting character as well as weight. In fact, the whole weight of the symphony lies in the long central movement whereas the brief opening Lento and the equally brief final Molto animato e marcato merely function as a prelude and epilogue of some sort. Moreover, the central Molto moderato: Tema e variazioni is twice as long as the two other movements put together. The weighty central movement is cast as a theme and variations on a lullaby of the Mi’kmaq First Nations people which the composer also used in his Suite in D major for organ. Anyone interested in what the Mi’kmaq First Nations people may be referred to Wikipedia for it all seems a rather long story. The variation movement of the Second Symphony is an impressive piece of music in which Kenins’ contrapuntal mastery is already fully displayed.

The Symphony No 3 is Ķeniņš’ first large-scale work for large symphony orchestra and again the composer demonstrates his assurance in his handling of form and counterpoint. The central movement Lento inquieto, though shorter than that of the Second Symphony, is again the emotional heart of the piece but it is nevertheless counterbalanced by two outer movements of fairly equal length but of quite different character. Georgs Pelēcis is quoted in Orets Silabriedis’ excellent notes as saying that “Kenins rejects seemingly essential symphony ingredients, such as the sonata form. That does not appear in any of the three movements … only one main theme is developed in each movement, and they are all interrelated. The unifying element is the rich chromatic intonations …”. The Third Symphony is clearly a work by a composer in full command of his aims and means, which shows in the way that the composer handles polyphony – an essential component of his music making. The first and second movements end with uncertainty, preparing for what is to follow, but the final movement Molto animato e brioso ends with an assertive gesture. As Silabriedis puts it: “I am responsible for everything that I have said and done”. (Incidentally, one might be reminded of RVW, whose Fourth Symphony also ends abruptly with a fist banging on a table and a door brutally slammed.

The Symphony No 7 “Symphony in the form of a Passacaglia” is scored for large orchestra and a mezzo-soprano in the final aria. Half the duration of the piece is purely orchestral and cast as a fully developed Passacaglia capped, so to say, by a short Allegro molto before the final aria for mezzo-soprano on a poem by the composer’s father, Atis Ķeniņš (1874–1961), who was also a statesman and one of the founders of the Republic of Latvia in 1919. The poem must have had a particularly personal resonance for the composer. “The mezzo-soprano solo links the composer more tightly with his family roots, expresses itself in more trusting and optimistic feelings; however, the unease in the harmonies and rhythm likely cannot hide the composer’s fears about out era. The concluding epilogue is like an Agnus Dei. The finale should express hope and faith, which stands over life’s troubles, soothing our darkest predictions, and suppressing our fears” (the composer’s words quoted in Silabriedis’ notes). The text, as translated in the booklet, may seem somewhat dated but has now acquired some new relevance in our troubled times and the symphony now carries a most welcome and needed appeal for peace. Nonetheless, Ķeniņš’ Seventh Symphony is quite an impressive piece of music in its own right and its “message” (if such there is) may be heard by any man of goodwill.

This final installment in Ondine’s Ķeniņš cycle has been carefully prepared and is as immaculately performed as the preceding ones. These are committed performances throughout, in excellent sound, up to Ondine’s best standards and Orests Silabriedis’ notes are excellent.

Ķeniņš’ symphonic cycle is on a par with other largely forgotten similar cycles that would probably have remained ignored or little known, were it not for brave and enterprising recording companies who have invested in similar projects. Examples that immediately come to mind are BIS’ recordings of Tubin’s symphonies and the hopefully ongoing Wordsworth cycle by Toccata. One cannot but hope that ventures such as these will encourage others to follow suit.

Ķeniņš’ music is too good to be ignored and these performances do it full justice; I am sure that they will play a part in securing his music its deserved status.

-- MusicWeb International

Andris Poga and the Latvian National Symphony Orchestra plunge into Keninš’ challenging idiom with a vengeance, turning in bracing, invigorating performances of both symphonies.

This third album release in the first complete Tālivaldis Ķeniņš (1919–2008) symphony cycle includes the composer’s final symphonic creation, Symphony No. 8, with a remarkable organ solo part performed by the award-winning organist Iveta Apkalna, alongside the composer’s dramatic and concise 5th Symphony, both conducted by Andris Poga and performed by the Latvian National Symphony Orchestra.

Tālivaldis Ķeniņš (1919–2008) wrote an impressive cycle of eight numbered symphonies. Especially the 1970s and the 1980s were fruitful years to Ķeniņš as a symphonist: both Ķeniņš’ 5th and 8th Symphonies were premiered in Toronto, the previous in 1976 and the latter in 1986. Ķeniņš 5th Symphony starts with a powerful orchestral climax and itis a work with dark undercurrents. However, here the composer balances with two different opposite materials: the robust, contemporary world meets a fairy tale landscape glittering with the magic of dusk in the Latvian countryside. The Symphony No. 8 lends itself to analysis but not to description. In this work, Ķeniņš has quite possibly attained his highest metaphysical peak. From the storms of the first part and some longed for unattainability, through the second part’s luminous chorale to the finale of the third part with its eight double and triple beats, concluding with a single beat and transcendence. This symphony-concerto for organ and orchestra calls for a combination of masterful solo organ skills. In addition to excellent technique and a deep understanding of complex forms, a fine sense of the organ’s registers is also required, so that the organ part can both blend and shine in a surprising balance of musical pattern and orchestral instrumentation.

REVIEW:

Tālivaldis Keninš (1919-2008) was born in Latvia, but spent the largest portion of his life in Canada, and his name turns up on recordings dedicated to the music of both countries. He was educated, however, in France, and his music definitely reveals the influence of his main source of inspiration, Arthur Honegger. There is that same seriousness of purpose, amounting to grimness, and a similar rugged, dissonant, vigorous idiom—only more so. Compared to his model, Keninš’ music is more percussive, less anchored in tonality, but still fundamentally melodic and at heart, lyrical. It definitely takes some getting used to, but many listeners will find it worth the effort.

The Fifth Symphony (1976) starts with a bang, and the tension scarcely lets up through four connected movements lasting about twenty minutes. Give Keninš credit for not overstaying his welcome and fatiguing his listeners with an excess of relentless, grinding turmoil. The Eighth Symphony (1986-his last) has a concertante part for organ, making for some truly scarifying climaxes alongside meditative passages of a more brooding, quasi-liturgical character. The Aria for strings impressed me least, being simply glum and grey.

However, I have to say that Andris Poga and the Latvian National Symphony Orchestra plunge into Keninš’ challenging idiom with a vengeance, turning in bracing, invigorating performances of both symphonies, very well-recorded. Iveta Apkaina presides over an appropriately forbidding sounding organ, and the ultimate impression is that of a kind of purgative tantrum. You may not want to hear it every day, but there are circumstances when this sort of thing might be just the ticket.

-- ClassicsToday.com (Dsvid Hurwitz)