Alexander Wustin belongs
to a generation of Russian composers
often mentioned as a lost generation.
They were all born in the 1940s and
began their composing career under the
repressive Brezhnev regime. They did
not benefit from the so-called ‘thaw’
following Stalin’s death. Their works
were banned, cancelled from concert
programmes and long left unpublished.
In fact, for many long years, these
composers were treated as if they did
not exist. Wustin’s early works, which
he later withdrew, were fairly traditional.
As an editor working for Russian radio,
Wustin had access to recordings of western
modern music, which considerably widened
his musical outlook. His music was thus
significantly influenced by that of
Varèse and Xenakis, which may
be found in his lavish use of percussion.
(Another important factor, too, in this
respect was the existence of Pekarski’s
percussion ensemble for whom Schnittke,
Gubaidulina, Denisov and several other
Russian composers wrote major works.)
In most pieces here, the percussion
has an important part, particularly
so in Memoria 2, Hommage
à Beethoven and Agnus
Dei as well as in Sine
Nomine, his most recent work
in this selection.
Memoria 2
is scored for percussion, keyboards
and strings. It opens rather mysteriously
with trills in the strings punctuated
by bells and piano. This short prelude
leads into a long central section for
percussion alone. This develops roughly
as a fugue building-up to a powerful
climax at which point the orchestra
forcefully re-enters for a brief, sonorous
Coda.
Song from "Tchevengur",
for men’s voices and small orchestra,
sets a short fragment from Platonov’s
novel. This important work was written
in 1927-1929. Parts were published in
the late 1920s, but the whole was available
to Russian readers in 1988 only. It
seems that this book triggered a Platonov
fever among Russian composers (Raskatov,
Tarnopolski and Wustin). Wustin’s short
piece evokes "the inevitable failure
of any utopian vision". It sets
a very short fragment, actually a few
lines (In a distant land/ on the far
shore/what we see in dreams is there/but
the enemy holds it). It opens in a dream-like,
pastoral mood quietly sustained throughout
most of the piece (with telling use
of recorders), briefly dispelled when
the enemy is mentioned. For all its
brevity, this is a poignant, deeply
moving work; and one of the finest here.
Hommage à
Beethoven ("Concerto for
percussion and small orchestra")
is roughly cast as a theme and variations
on an invented theme à la
Beethoven, constantly embellished.
The percussion section keeps contradicting
the apparent tranquillity of the invented
theme which progressively reaches breaking
point. At that very moment, the percussion
breaks loose in a furious cadenza building-up
to a massive climax. This is followed
by a restatement "as in a dream"
of the Beethoven-like theme (in which
the players who can join with their
humming the tune); but it soon disintegrates
into riot and is eventually drowned
by the percussion. This piece is the
only in this selection of Wustin’s output
that is somewhat reminiscent of Schnittke
and his so-called polystylism.
Agnus Dei
is scored for chorus, percussion and
organ. It opens calmly, constantly opposing
long notes on the words Agnus Dei
and shorter, staccato-like notes on
Qui tollis peccata mundi. After
the introduction, a new section begins
in which the percussion plays a prominent
part. The plea for mercy becomes more
urgent, and the words then are declaimed
rather than sung. The music gathers
momentum until the organ enters on soft,
long-held notes. In the coda Christe
eleison/Dona nobis pacem, the words
are "tonelessly" enunciated
by the voices, while the conductor supplies
a rhythmic support on wooden claves.
The very title of Sine
Nomine emphasises the abstract
nature of the work, that the composer
once described as a kind of one-movement
symphony in four sections played without
a break. In the opening section, static
string textures support widely separated
interjections from woodwinds and brass.
This leads into the second section characterised
by "statuesque brass chords"
over nervous scales from strings and
woodwinds developing into some sort
of funeral march. There is then an abrupt
change of mood in the string-dominated
third section, actually a fleeting,
mysterious Scherzo. The fourth section
begins with a varied restatement of
some of the opening material. The mood
becomes more restless (again scurrying
strings to the fore) and the section
builds-up to a massive climax abruptly
cut short allowing the percussion to
fade out quietly.
Wustin’s music was
entirely new to me. Listening to these
highly personal, often gripping woks
made a deep impression of earnestness,
honesty and sincerity which I find most
endearing. This is more than once music
of protest, often rather pessimistic
or bleak, but quite impressive in its
own way. All performances are very fine
indeed, the recorded sound is quite
good and Michael Struck-Schloen’s notes
are well informed, detailed and illuminating
(I have borrowed much from them). A
most welcome and commendable release.
Hubert Culot
Armenian Chamber Choir of Moscowb;
New Moscow Choir (Elena Rastvorova, conductor)d;
Moscow Classical Orchestraabce; Yuri
Nikolaevitchabce 