Jānis IVANOVS (1906-1983)
Symphony No 15 “Symphonia Ipsa” in B-flat minor (1972) [32:11]
Symphony No 16 in E-flat major (1974) [30:30]
Latvian National Symphony Orchestra/Guntis Kuzma
rec. 2021, Great Guild Concert Hall, Riga, Latvia
SKANI LMIC126 [62:11]
Another disc, another new discovery and an immediate feeling that I must find more of Ivanovs’ music following this introduction to it. For such a small country with a population of under one million (for comparison the greater metropolitan area of Manchester has 2.7 million) it is astonishing that the most cursory search will bring up 50 Latvian composers from the last 150 years. I was amazed that through my reviewing as well as attending the wonderful Vale of Glamorgan Music Festival, I had come across at least seven of them. There are plenty of reasons why he is almost unknown outside Latvia when one considers that during the Soviet period it was not easy for anyone save a chosen few to gain recognition in the West. However, I don’t feel so about not having come across his music before when I read in the booklet that he is far less well-known in his own country than he deserves, since celebrities who visit the country tend to play the standard repertoire, which reinforces the idea that their own home-grown composers somehow matter less that ‘the greats’.
I can well understand Ivanovs being called the greatest Latvian composer of symphonies of all time given that he has composed no fewer than twenty-one, though I feel he may struggle to merit that title while the contemporary Pēteris Vasks continues to be so high-profile. Of course, such an argument is of no consequence; it is the music that matters. He began composing symphonies in the 1930s and his final and unfinished 21st was composed in 1983, the year he died. His 15th symphony was composed in 1972 and bears the subtitle “Symphonia Ipsa” meaning “Symphony about itself” but which has been interpreted by some critics as being more “about myself”, so could be considered autobiographical. Composed as it was during the declining, so-called “years of stagnation” under Soviet President Leonid Brezhnev, it describes a picture of a country treading water with no real sense of purpose. It begins quietly, unfolding slowly creating a suitably bleak landscape. Soon, however, there are some hints of disturbance to come and the music becomes anxious with short bursts of restlessness which subside only to reappear shortly after and it is in this mood that the movement progresses with its main theme rising in intensity during these outbursts and the movement concludes without resolution; the story, however, is far from over. The second movement takes the essence from the opening with lyrical passages in amongst this overall feeling of unease. Doubtless due to the weather and the light in the Baltic countries - features which are shared with Northern Russia and Scandinavia as a whole - there is a bleakness which pervades so much of the music composed in that part of the world; you’d never confuse it with music written in Southern Europe. If you like your music sombre and reflective, as I do, you will find much to enjoy in the landscapes conjured up by this music, which has a chilly breeze blowing through it along with equally bleak political undertones.
The third movement again seems to grow out of its predecessor; in fact, there is a satisfying feeling of uniformity about all the movements, giving a sense that a single statement is being made and there is no real relief from the sombre atmosphere that pervades the symphony as a whole. A build-up finally comes to momentary climax after six minutes, only immediately to subside into a calm that sees the movement out.
The final movement opens with music that is more anxious and disturbed, with a theme that leads to a number of climaxes, only to revert to a calm that continues until the symphony’s close.
The 16th symphony opens with a real Sibelian feel to it, with more bleak and icy landscapes conjured up but which are accompanied by some beautifully articulated thematic material, weighty in portent, a feeling of anguish never far from the surface. Towards the movement’s close, the music becomes much more agitated yet a regal background succeeds in calming things down. The brief scherzo restates the anxious and disturbed character of the first’s momentary outbursts as if it were trying to get it out of its system.
The third movement shows it didn’t quite manage to do that, as the tensions are still there, although they are rather more restrained. There is a main theme that demands to be heard despite other elements appearing to try and subdue it and an oboe gently leads the movement to its conclusion. The final movement again begins in agitated mood vying with elements of the previous movements that seek to tame it and which this melodic material succeeds in doing, thus leading the symphony to come to a suitably calm resolution.
I see that Ivanovs’ symphonies have featured in Music Web reviews for many years, so I realise that I have missed out and have much catching up to do. I’d encourage readers who, like me, wish to investigate Ivanovs’ music further to search against his name on our site and read the views of some of my colleagues, including those who have already reviewed this recording. I can also recommend a website I discovered while I have been living with this disc:
Classical Podcasts. My readings have revealed Ivanovs as a true pathfinder in his country’s musical heritage and while it may be true, as another reviewer wrote, that he may not rank alongside the greats in classical music, he had much to say and said it well, interestingly and extremely musically.
The Latvian National Symphony Orchestra demonstrates unflinching commitment to their country’s major symphonist and conductor Guntis Kuzma makes sure that this is matched by superlative performances with great sound. Listeners who enjoy new discoveries should not hesitate to get hold of this disc, which will reward them for years to come.
Steve Arloff
Previous reviews: Rob Barnett ~ David McDade ~ Stephen Greenbank
