Giya KANCHELI (b.1935)
Chiaroscuro (2010) [22:36]
Twilight (2004) [25:00]
Gideon Kremer, Patricia Kopatchinskaja (violins)
Kremerata Baltica
rec. December 2014, Lithuanian National Radio and Television, Vilnius, Lithuania. DDD
ECM 2442 (4811784) [47:36]
Giya Kancheli was born in 1935 in Tbilisi in Soviet Georgia
and now lives in Belgium. Much of his music is distinguished by slow - though
not ponderous - anguish that’s intelligently expressed in plangent minor
melodies on strings or is otherwise redolent of that combination of tonality,
tempo and instrumentation. Not unlike analogous approaches by composers such
as Vasks and Sculthorpe, Kancheli’s is beautiful music. It is neither
written merely to evoke a spurious atmosphere nor is it intended to be performed
in a way so excessively reflexive as to become self-indulgent.
Kancheli writes movingly in a short personal creed in the CD booklet, of his
belief that even beauty and creation cannot ‘withstand the destructive
force’ of the world all around him and us. His is no call for action
or optimism in the face of humanity’s refusals to learn all the obvious
lessons. His music is bitter and sorrowful; it’s written - he says -
for himself without expectations that it will find a large audience. In fact,
Kancheli’s music is particularly accessible.
The violin playing of Gidon Kremer (in both pieces here) and Patricia Kopatchinskaja
(in Twilight) is carefully supported by Kremer’s own ensemble,
Kremerata Baltica. They shun any potential maudlin. They play crisply, trenchantly
and effectively - like surgeons reaching in to examine and gently rearrange,
perhaps, the very heart of a healthy patient. Deftly, they expose the valves
and ventricles so as to leave us in awe as much at the patient’s own
core as at their own unselfconscious dexterity.
For instance, the gentleness of the piano’s supporting variations at
nine minutes or so into Chiaroscuro suggests empathy and common cause
with Kancheli rather than merely exposing his apparent desperation. The repetition
of the three Mahlerian ‘strokes’ which follow shortly thereafter
thus come across not as anything more ‘real’; but correspondingly
soul-searching.
Indeed, to continue the medical metaphor, these players seem to be as conscious
of the soul as is a good psychiatrist. Yes, it’s something to be marvelled
at. That marvel is best experienced from intimate knowledge of its object
not by gaping from a distance. Nor do the players make the mistake of trying
to infuse their own awareness of sadness, regret or wry resignation into Kancheli’s
world. He is eloquent enough.
Rather, their tempi and phrasing appear to take the music at face
value, to follow Kancheli’s orders. This decision of Kremer’s
has the result that we come closer to the sear and at the same time the resistance
to dolefulness represented by the contrast between soloist and orchestra;
listen to the sensitive, almost tentative, yet stout tone of Kremer three
or four minutes before the end of Chiaroscuro. He honours the piece
by respecting its direction over any expectation we may have of lush weeping
textures.
The slightly longer Twilight in some ways takes up where Chiaroscuro
left off although the latter was written six years later. It is played with
a greater gruffness by the two soloists and Kremerata Baltica. At times, the
close proximity of the listener to the instruments comes across almost as
roughness. It’s Kancheli’s intensity, not his rawness which impresses
the most. The players exploit the music’s contrasts - particularly in
texture. They also strike just the right balance between offering us what
he wrote, and interpreting it to us.
The acoustic of the Lithuanian National Radio and Television studios in Vilnius
has - or is miked to give - just the right amount of resonance. Undue ‘atmosphere’
is thankfully avoided. In addition to that statement by Kancheli, the booklet
contains simple, personal reflections on the music by the composer and by
Kremer. If you’re looking for a representative entry into this compelling
music, this is a good place to start. Although Chiaroscuro and Twilight
date from 2010 and 2004 respectively, there are no other recordings of them
in the current catalogue - so existing lovers of Kancheli’s music will
want to get them without hesitating.
This is a CD short in duration but strong on impact.
Mark Sealey
Previous review: Dominy Clements
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