SHOSTAKOVICH: Piano Sonata No. 2, Op. 61. Three Fantastic
Dances, Op. 5. Five Preludes. Lyric Waltz from Dances
of the Dolls. Short Piece and Spanish Dance from The
Gadfly. Nocturne from The Limpid Stream. Aphorisms,
Op. 13. Polka from The Golden Age.
Vladimir Ashkenazy, pianist
DECCA B000184602 (F) (DDD) TT: 61:43
SHOSTAKOVICH: Violin Sonata, Op. 134. 24
Preludes for Violin and Piano, Op. 34 (trans. Dmitri Tziganov
and Lera Auerbach)
Grigory Kalinovsky, violin; Tatiana Goncharov, piano
CENTAUR CRC 2636 (F) (DDD) TT: 66:43
Both of these collections are superbly recorded,
as befits their respective needs, and both are praiseworthy despite
some formidable competition in the the cases of the Violin Sonata
of 1968, composed for Igor Oistrakh’s 60th birthday, and
the Second Piano Sonata of 1942. Centaur’s Grigory Kalinovsky,
a Russian-born protégé of Pinchas Zukerman who now
teaches at the Manhattan School of Music, has only Rostislav Dubinsky,
accompanied by Luba Edina on Chandos, in the same sonic class (Lillian
Mordkovich, also on Chandos, is an eccentric interpreter in this
instance). Ositrakh himself recorded it only twice: in 1968 “at
home” with the composer at the piano (5 minutes shorter than
the recent crop of interpreters!) and in 1972 with Sviatoslav Richter
on Melodiya 30157, long gone. Richter also played it, however,
with violinist Oleg Kagan in 1985 which appears in various collections – a
performance I’m sorry I don’t know, although the timings
are very close indeed to Kalinovsky’s on Centaur with pianist
Tatyana Goncharova.
The Violin Sonata is a late work: no more kowtowing to bureaucratic
ukases and implicit punishments for defying them. It is a sober
work, often somber,
but temperamentally of this world still. The illnesses that led to Shostakovich’s
death in seven years later had already begun to manifest themselves individually,
but his darkening of spirit in the final three quartets, the last three symphonies,
and the viola sonata finished just a month before his death did not yet dominate
all of the violin sonata, although it ends as ambiguously as it began with
a 12-note series on the piano. Where there is humor it is no longer saucy,
much less nose-thumbing, but humor there is, as a rule unexpectedly, and technical
brilliance which can make it difficult to play both accurately and beautifully.
But Kalinovsky and Goncharova take the most challenging hurdles in stride.
What makes their disc unique is all 24 of the Op. 34 keyboard Preludes from
1933 in transcriptions for violin and piano. In the later ‘30s, Dmitri
Tziganov, leader of the storied Beethoven Quartet, asked for – and received – permission
from Shostakovich to transcribe 19 of the Preludes, which astonished the composer
(“When I heard [them] I forgot they were originally written for the piano,
so natural did they sound”). But Tziganov rearranged the sequence, and
omitted Nos. 4, 7, 9, 14, and 23. Kalinovsky commissioned Lera Auerbach, a
Russian-American composer, to complete the set which she did brilliantly in
1999, and in their original order. Dubinsky plays Tziganov’s 19 on his
Chandos disc with Edina, but here are all 24. If you have Oistrakh’s
version with Richter, by all means keep it – they gave the premiere and
were disciples of the composer (along with the cellist Rostropovich) after
Stalin’s death. But Centaur’s sound is contemporary, which Melodiya
never imagined much less captured.
Ashkenazy’s collection of shorter piano works along with the Second Sonata
from 1942 while Stalin still lived, meaning the composer had turned his back
on avant-garde earlier pieces that proclaimed him both as a prodigy
and an enfant
terrible. The most advanced
of these were the 10 Aphorisms of 1927, a world apart from the Three
Fantastic Dances (1920-22) and the five early Preludes (1919-21).
Ashkenazy adds a series of transcriptions including the Spanish Dance from The
Gadfly, and ends with
the saucy Polka from The Golden Age (lest listeners be stunned
by the “Lullaby” that
ends the 10 marvelously gnarly Aphorisms). In an age when pianists have turned
to conducting with increasing frequency, Ashkenazy is virtually alone in keeping
up his keyboard technique, and Decca recorded his recital in Potton Hall in
Suffolk with dead-on accuracy in matching subject matter and its execution.
Likewise recommended.
R.D. (April 2004)
|
SHOSTAKOVICH: Violin Sonata, Op. 134. 24 Preludes for Violin
and Piano, Op. 34 (trans. Dmitri Tziganov and Lera Auerbach)
Grigory Kalinovsky, violin; Tatiana Goncharov, piano
CENTAUR CRC 2636 (F) (DDD) TT: 66:43
Both of these collections are superbly recorded, as befits
their respective needs, and both are praiseworthy despite some formidable
competition in the the cases of the Violin Sonata of 1968, composed for
Igor Oistrakh’s 60th birthday, and the Second Piano Sonata of 1942.
Centaur’s Grigory Kalinovsky, a Russian-born protégé of
Pinchas Zukerman who now teaches at the Manhattan School of Music, has
only Rostislav Dubinsky, accompanied by Luba Edina on Chandos, in the
same sonic class (Lillian Mordkovich, also on Chandos, is an eccentric
interpreter in this instance). Ositrakh himself recorded it only twice:
in 1968 “at home” with the composer at the piano (5 minutes
shorter than the recent crop of interpreters!) and in 1972 with Sviatoslav
Richter on Melodiya 30157, long gone. Richter also played it, however,
with violinist Oleg Kagan in 1985 which appears in various collections – a
performance I’m sorry I don’t know, although the timings
are very close indeed to Kalinovsky’s on Centaur with pianist Tatyana
Goncharova.
The Violin Sonata is a late work: no more kowtowing to bureaucratic ukases
and implicit punishments for defying them. It is a sober work, often
somber, but temperamentally of this world still. The illness that led
to Shostakovich’s death in seven years later had already begun
to manifest themselves individually, but his darkening of spirit in the
final three quartets, the last three symphonies, and the viola sonata
finished just a month before his death did not yet dominate all of the
violin sonata, although it ends as ambiguously as it began with a 12-note
series on the piano. Where there is humor it is no longer saucy, much
less nose-thumbing, but humor there is, as a rule unexpectedly, and technical
brilliance which can make it difficult to play both accurately and beautifully.
But Kalinovsky and Goncharova take the most challenging hurdles in stride.
What makes their disc unique is all 24 of the Op. 34 keyboard Preludes
from 1933 in transcriptions for violin and piano. In the later ‘30s,
Dmitri Tziganov, leader of the storied Beethoven Quartet, asked for – and
received – permission from Shostakovich to transcribe 19 of the
Preludes, which astonished the composer (“When I heard [them] I
forgot they were originally written for the piano, so natural did they
sound”). But Tziganov rearranged the sequence, and omitted Nos.
4, 7, 9, 14, and 23. Kalinovsky commissioned Lera Auerbach, a Russian-American
composer, to complete the set which she did brilliantly in 1999, and
in their original order. Dubinsky plays Tziganov’s 19 on his Chandos
disc with Edina, but here are all 24. If you have Oistrakh’s version
with Richter, by all means keep it – they gave the premiere and
were disciples of the composer (along with the cellist Rostropovich)
after Stalin’s death. But Centaur’s sound is contemporary,
which Melodiya never imagined much less captured.
Ashkenazy’s collection of shorter piano works along with the Second
Sonata from 1942 while Stalin still lived, meaning the composer had turned
his back on avant-garde earlier pieces that
proclaimed him both as a prodigy and an enfant terrible. The most advanced
of these were the 10 Aphorisms of 1927, a world apart from the Three
Fantastic Dances (1920-22) and the five early Preludes (1919-21). Ashkenazy
adds a series of transcriptions including the Spanish Dance from The
Gadfly, and ends with the saucy Polka from The Golden Age (lest listeners
be stunned by the “Lullaby” than ends the 10 marvelously
gnarly Aphorisms). In an age when pianists have turned to conducting
with increasing frequency, Ashkenazy is virtually alone in keeping up
his keyboard technique, and Decca recorded his recital in Potton Hall
in Suffolk with dead-on accuracy in matching subject matter and its execution.
Likewise recommended.
R.D. (April 2004)
|