Mieczysław WEINBERG (1919-96)
Sonata No.3, Op.126 for solo violin (1979) [22:14]
Trio, Op.48 for violin, viola and violoncello (1950) [14:48]
Sonatina, Op.46 for violin and piano (1949) [13:18]
Concertino, Op.42 for violin and string orchestra (1948) [15:51]
Symphony No.10, Op.98 for string orchestra (1968) [34:34]
Gidon Kremer (violin), Daniil Grishin (viola)
Giedre Dirvanauskaite (cello), Daniil Trifonov (piano)
Kremerata Baltica
rec. November 2012 and July 2013, Neuhardenberg, Germany and Lockenhaus, Austria
(opp.46 and 126)
ECM 2368/69 [50:20 + 50:25]
As a huge fan of Weinberg I am thrilled that the list of discs of his music
being released is ever-growing. This latest addition is particularly welcome
since it includes solo, chamber and orchestral works. Additionally since these
five works are from various periods of his composing life they offer an interesting
insight into his creative thinking.
Gidon Kremer places Weinberg’s lengthy and extremely complex sonata for solo
violin alongside that of Bartók which is considered as one of the pinnacles
of 20th century music. This will undoubtedly surprise many, especially
those who have not yet discovered the breadth of invention this composer demonstrates.
The work is dedicated to the composer’s father who, along with the rest of
his family who had escaped the pogroms which swept away his grandparents and
many other relatives, died in the Nazi’s concentration camps. Weinberg was
left as the sole survivor. Kremer’s playing is superb as one would expect
and shows complete understanding of the material by a violinist who has clearly
lived with the work for some considerable time. Solo violin sonatas are not
an easy proposition for many but for those prepared to listen to this work
several times the rewards will flow. Gradually complexity is replaced by sheer
beauty which shines through strongly together with both irony and wit.
The Trio is much more immediately appealing: full of catchy little
tunes laced with Weinberg’s facility for incorporating Jewish musical references
that involve irony, wit, sadness and resignation. The first movement is merrily
dance-like while the second is melancholic in nature. The last reverts to
the atmosphere of the opening, though now whetted with a sardonic edge. It
is surprising and regrettable to read that this was the only piece he wrote
for this combination of instruments.
The earliest work on the first disc is Weinberg’s Sonatina for violin
and piano which he wrote in 1949. Considering the political atmosphere of
that period of Soviet history, with Stalin’s paranoia manifesting itself in
increasingly tyrannical edicts that swept millions into the gulags, this work
is surprisingly upbeat. You can hear this in its opening movement although
the second is a good deal more serious. The last is also happy with dancing
rhythms subjected to some ironic twists. It is said that Weinberg, who had
more reasons than Shostakovich to be anxious about the authorities given their
attitude towards Jewish composers, was nevertheless generally given to greater
optimism and this is reflected in his music.
The second disc opens with his Concertino, Op.42 for violin and string
orchestra which dates from 1948, the same period as the Sonatina.
It’s another breezy and delightfully tuneful work that often sounds a million
miles away from the terrors being visited upon the composer’s adopted homeland.
Reviewing
a disc of Russian Violin Concertos back in January which also included this
work I noted how much the opening movement reminded me of Vaughan Williams,
Bax and Walton. It radiates a feeling of rolling countryside which is so often
reflected in English music. The first movement fairly skips along with a bright,
carefree, happy tune while the second, though more reflective, is still light
in character. The last is in the form of a waltz with a charming rather wistful
melody at its core though it becomes manic at the end. The booklet notes say
of the whole work that “... its lyrical character satisfied official demands
for ingratiating melody ...” If that is the case then I say that it’s an ill
wind that blows no one any good. After all, there is so much of Weinberg that
had to steer carefully in the prevailing atmosphere in the Soviet Union, that
is more than just listenable but is genuinely wonderful. The same can be said
for Shostakovich and a host of other Soviet composers; without the diktats
of the authorities which were ridiculous at best and downright evil at worst
we wouldn’t have Shostakovich’s fifth symphony which became the public’s favourite
which it still is.
Weinberg’s Tenth Symphony, written in 1968 was commissioned by conductor Rudolf
Barshai and is dedicated to him and the Moscow Chamber Orchestra. Scored for
string orchestra it is a remarkable work which has been described as “...
a truly major achievement of contemporary music, standing next to Einojuhani
Rautavaara's 7th Symphony "Angel of Light" from 1994, and Olivier
Messiaen's Turangalila Symphony from 1948.” This is completely justified
since this mighty work is much greater than the sum of its parts and across
its 34 minutes inhabits whole worlds. Within it there are periods in which
solo instruments give the impression of a concerto for variously violin, viola,
cello and even double bass. It is a complex work that requires several hearings
before it reveals itself completely and is the closest to atonality that I
have heard Weinberg come. The first movement opens with a theme that recurs
several times. This symphony is experimental in nature as well as being quite
a lot darker than I have become used to expecting although it lightens up
later for a short time. The cello takes a significant role in this movement
heralding a return to darkness. It is not surprising that, originally scored
for only 17 instruments, it has the feeling of a chamber symphony. That said,
the powerful nature of the music seems accentuated by the sparse writing.
Generally I can do no better than quote what the brochure writer Wolfgang
Sandner says, “... above all it is an uncommonly gripping work flanked by
two mighty grave sections and abounding in unexpected combinations
of sound, powerful forte explosions, orgies of glissando, and furtive
drone basses beneath freely phrased cantilenas and contorted rhythms, including
a sonic Tower of Babel perceptible only through a perusal of the score.” It
certainly gives profound food for thought as a symphony that is as serious
as any one can name. It is so utterly compelling that it doesn’t easily let
you go and the feeling that you must hear it again, when you surely will uncover
more layers, is almost irresistible. Beware, though, as it leaves you quite
drained.
The Kremerata Baltica is a fantastically impressive ensemble whose every fibre
is strained to ensuring readings of the highest quality. Each of the featured
soloists proves himself or herself amongst the worthiest of musicians. All
go towards making this an extremely significant release in the ever-expanding
discography of a true giant of twentieth century music.
Steve Arloff
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