Some of Chandos’s Polyansky
recordings of Russian music have been
patchy in quality (I’m thinking here
of a couple of his Prokofiev discs)
but there is no doubting the success
of his Schnittke series. This latest
instalment, like most of the others,
pairs a symphony with a concerto or
concertante work, and this particular
coupling works better than most.
The Sixth Symphony
was commissioned by Rostropovich and
the National Symphony Orchestra of Washington,
and was given its first performance
in Moscow on September 25, 1993. It
is a brooding, intense work (even for
this composer) and it’s no coincidence
that Eric Roseberry’s excellent liner
note mentions a link to composers such
as Mahler, Shostakovich, Berg and Britten.
The shadow of death looms large over
the proceedings, but things never get
maudlin. Instead, Schnittke seems to
be railing at forces larger than all
of us, but which we are powerless to
act against or control. This is evident
from the very opening, where a cataclysmic
growl from the depths of the orchestra
seems to come from the earth’s very
core. In fact, the sound is all twelve
notes of the chromatic scale piled up
into a huge dissonance (Mahler 10?),
which then dissolves into a chamber-like
section of spare transparency. This
juxtaposition of extremes is a familiar
Schnittke thumbprint, and one he inherited
from his predecessors and took to new
heights. Such features recur throughout
and one can readily hear examples of,
for instance, the Mahlerian contrast
of the serious with the trivial, as
at 7’41 into track1, where deep clusters
of low strings and brass are followed
by a daintily scored section, almost
childlike in its simplicity. This long
first movement (almost as long as the
other three together) has Shostakovich
written all over it, but never descends
into mere pastiche. The skill of Schnittke’s
orchestration helps, as does Polyansky’s
expertise in holding such disparate
elements together. The ending of this
first movement is almost frightening
in its intensity, shrill blasts from
the brass and deep clusters on strings
sounding like some primordial animal
writhing in pain.
The other three movements
of this classically proportioned work
follow on without a break, and though
extremes of contrast (especially dynamics)
are again present, they offer little
by way of consolation. The players obviously
relish the material, and the barbaric
drumming that announces the finale has
a wonderfully freewheeling energy and
zest. Schnittke seems to have had difficulty
with the ending of such a personal piece,
and we get a sort of stammering halt
in mid sentence. Roseberry likens this
to ending with a gesture of ‘anxious
questioning’, which is an apt description,
and again one’s mind does back to other
great death-haunted works of the 20th
Century (Sibelius 4 sprang to mind).
A gripping listen, but not for the faint
hearted.
The elements that one
loves or hates about Schnittke’s particular
brand of poly-stylism are most evident
in his series of Concerti Grossi.
They are all quirky pieces, and No.2
is no exception. The sheer depth of
feeling and truthfulness displayed in
the Symphony is lacking here, but the
work can be enjoyed on another level,
mainly of Shostakovich-like wit and
satire. It’s hard to get emotionally
involved in music which constantly aims
to disrupt and disorientate the listener,
but one can enjoy the fun and games
along the way. Schnittke plays a running
joke in this piece by using as a motto
theme the first phrase of ‘Silent Night’,
which is played with and distorted to
almost cruel proportions. He used this
more than once, and it’s as if he is
taking this icon of peace and tranquillity
and telling us it’s all an illusion,
particularly in the finale, where the
famous tune gets the roughest ride.
Add to this the usual chunks of Handel
and Vivaldi that keep bursting forth
unannounced, and you have a riotous
mix that has, in Roseberry’s words,
‘a Mozartian flicker of moods ... and
its own ambiguous smile’.
It’s all beautifully
performed, with the virtuosic solo parts
played with real relish by Schnittke
authorities, Ivashkin and Grindenko.
The recording, once again supervised
by Polyansky himself, is better than
previous discs, with excellent balance
and wide-ranging depth. A must for Schnittke
fans but the uninitiated be warned,
it’s not an easy ride.
Tony Haywood
Tatiana Grindenko (violin)