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