First, I am sorry to
say that I somehow missed Volume 1 of
Kirsten Johnson’s enterprising series
of Albanian Piano Music not least because
this volume is so enjoyable and fascinating.
I can only suggest that anyone with
a particular interest look it out, especially
in the light of what I will say about
volume two.
Whilst listening to
and reading the very revealing and personal
booklet notes, I remembered an incident
in 1981 when my wife and I whilst on
a boat sailing the ‘Steno Kerkira’ between
Corfu and Albania in a strong wind,
apparently sailed too close to the Albanian
border line. We were shot at from some
distance; it must be said that it was
something of a shock. Since then I’ve
always regarded Albania as a complete
puzzle.
I was also then pondering
another question which has continued
to bug me, that is ‘what is the effect
of political suppression on artists’.
Now you may say instantly, citing Shostakovich,
that it is a very bad thing that artists
should constantly feel in danger of
their lives, afraid to express themselves
with any originality in case a government
or institutional spokesman comes down
castigating their work and humiliating
them in public. But does this fear make
the music any better to worse?
Whilst listening to
this music, quite a bit of it short
and arguably trivial, I could not help
but wonder what might these composers
have achieved if they had escaped from
the tyranny of the power of the detestable
Enver Hoxha (1944-1985) and his wife
at an earlier date or lived elsewhere.
Then I wondered what masterpieces still
might await discovery. But then I thought
again. Perhaps this music does indeed
represent the best of these composers;
perhaps the tyrannous leadership enabled
them to write in a manner which suited
their sensibilities and abilities. Perhaps
in doing so they have added some music
to the world, based as it often is on
Albanian national styles, which would
otherwise not have been composed. I
know myself how a restriction on the
composing commission can often stimulate
a better and more original composition
than might have been written if a ‘carte
blanche’ had been allowed. Indeed, perhaps
this freedom might have added yet more
twelve-tone composers to the multitude
if the regime in Albania had been liberal.
After all, it seems that the composer
and performers did not lack a solid
training - sometimes in Western Europe
- and certainly did not lack opportunity
and, if they toed the line, financial
support. Indeed the composers could
be awarded titles, so ‘Artiste I popullit’
was given to Ibrahimi and Daija and
the title ‘Artist I merituar’ (artist
of merit) was given to Harapi and Lara.
Enough philosophizing
for now. What about the music presented
here?
As indicated, many
of the pieces are short, some less than
two minutes. However there are some
more substantial ones especially those
by Lara and Harapi and several pieces
are inspired by the folk music of Albania.
To a certain extent
you may feel, especially in the movements
inspired by dances that it is almost
echt Bartók. But listen
further and a more delicate, less percussive,
sound-world hides behind the rhythms.
Some of the intimate
nationalistically-inspired pieces have
a real charm and at times made me want
to book the next plane to Tirana. One
in particular was Papadhimitri’s ‘Little
Shepherdess’ with its simple melody
over a modal drone bass. What a pity
that it is the only piece representing
this composer. Papadhimitri clearly
has a way of making a simple idea so
effective.
The drawing room is
not far away in the various waltzes
and dances. One often feels that a street
musician is lurking somewhere behind
these melodies as in Harapi’s ‘Evening
Song’. A strong element of popular music
lies behind several of these.
Kirsten Johnson managed
to interview some of the composers in
the mid-1990s. The results of these
interviews are mentioned in her essay.
It seems that Tish Daija was the teacher
of several of these composers and Cesk
Zadeja used to play one publishing house
off against another until he got his
way. Ibrahimi often wrote outside the
accepted style using unconventional
rhythms and harmonies which were not
in line with social realism. There are
certainly folk elements in his music
but he had to keep some ‘interesting’
pieces secret. When longer pieces are
attempted they tend to be classically-inspired
and conventional as in the Sonatina
or the quite Romantic, Schumannesque
‘Theme and Variations’ by Harapi whose
work ranks very high in the brief musical
history of this country. There are also
pieces entitled Ballade or brief Sonatas
or Rhapsodies like the wonderful 2nd
Albanian Rhapsody of Ramadan Sokli.
Needless to say, Johnson
plays with real sympathy. I had not
heard these works before - who has?
- and of course have no scores. She
is however a perfect advocate and a
true enthusiast for this little known
music.
I can honestly say
that if I had not been sent this CD
to review then I would have purchased
it. This project is fascinating, enterprising
and should be supported. More music
from Albania should be given an airing.
Quite apart from that it is of good
quality and is immensely enjoyable.
Gary Higginson
see also review
by Rob Barnett
Kirsten Johnson (piano) 
