Revelatory. The music
of Samuil Evgenievitch Feinberg is hypnotic
in the extreme, most obviously close
to Scriabin in mystical mode. All credit
to BIS (who already are doing sterling
work for the composer Nikos Skalkottas)
for releasing this magnificent disc,
with superbly detailed annotations by
Christophe Sirodeau, one of the two
pianists featured on the disc, and a
composer himself. Both Sirodeau and
Samaltanos contributed to the Skalkottas/Feinberg
concerts held in Paris in 1999.
Intriguing, also, to
have two such fine pianists’ reactions
to the same composer’s music. Rather
than dwell on any immediate differences,
it seems truer to the spirit of the
disc to point out both artists’ obvious
dedication to and love of this music,
two facets that result in this disc
being the special release it is. It
is certainly on my short-list as one
of my ‘Discs of the Year’.
The shifting colours
of the First Sonata are a fair indication
of this composer’s sound-world. Shifting
colours here both in the sense of Samaltanos’s
keyboard touch, which is magnificent
in its scope, but also in the harmonic
language the composer uses. There is
a lingering intensity about this statement,
as the harmonies move from Scriabinesque
to Bergian. The violent end of this
short (6’50) Sonata comes as a surprise.
Although contemporaneous
with the first Sonata, the Second (both
date from the year of Scriabin’s death)
exhibits a wide frame of reference.
The booklet notes point us towards Medtner
and early Szymanowski. Similarly in
one movement, it comes across as a single
flow of consciousness. The pianist here,
Christophe Sirodeau, realises the fairly
unrelenting intensity while demonstrating
an approach generally softer than that
of Samaltanos - more identifiably Gallic,
perhaps?
The Third Sonata, although
it was composed in 1916, had to wait
until 1974 for publication! The Marcia
funebre and the fugato were reused in
his Piano Concerto No. 1, Op. 20. Much
larger in size (three times as long
as the First Sonata), it speaks of extremities
of utterance that, technically, pose
no problem to Sirodeau. Quasi-consonant
harmonic arrival points act as markers
or as the notes would have it, ‘life-buoys’.
The prelude is dark, and harmonically
advanced in the manner of late Liszt,
while the similarly dark chordings of
the Marcia Funebre make this experience
hard work for both pianist and listener.
The third movement, curiously and confusingly,
is also called ‘Sonata’. The reference
point that kept on cropping up was Steven
Osborne’s excellent Hyperion disc of
Kapustin (CDA67159).
Feinberg dedicated
his Fourth Sonata to Miaskovsky. The
impulsive, thrusting nature of the music
is again reminiscent of Scriabin, almost,
at his most elusive. Samaltanos returns,
using a gentle touch now. In his booklet
notes, Sirodeau refers to Bulgakov’s
magnificent novel The Master and
Margarita, with its unlikely parade
of horror/comic ‘happenings’, as a point
of reference. It is easy to see what
he is getting at although Feinberg comes
without the laughs. Feinberg’s harmonic
logic ensures a stream of free-flow
washes from first to last. For some
reason, on each playing of the disc
it was at this point that I mentally
remarked on the excellence of the recording.
Perhaps this one is just that bit superior
to the rest? The recording date for
Sonatas 1-5 is merely given as ‘Spring
2002’.
Samaltanos is the featured
pianist in the Fifth Sonata of around
1920-21. At first it reminded me of
Scriabin’s Fourth Piano Sonata, where
harmonic drug-hazed meanderings meet
elusive prestissimi. However
Feinberg inhabits a world of his own
- the figure of Ravel simultaneously
hovers over the opening. The Allegro
main section is relatively violent,
featuring determined arpeggios. It is
magnificent, because of the surety of
Feinberg’s compositional hand; always,
you are aware that the guiding voice
is that of a Master.
The Sixth Sonata is
probably the finest work in the present
set. It takes in a world of references
- the bell-like tolling of the opening
seems to recall Debussy’s ‘Cathédrale
engloutie’ (Préludes I);
but Janáček
and Schoenberg both vie for attention,
all sitting alongside a perceptive use
of the B-A-C-H motif. Some of the reiterated
block chords (around 6’) even sound
like gestures from early Stockhausen
electronic music! The performance (Sirodeau)
is miraculous. It is here that
virtuosity reaches its peak.
The structure of the
Sixth Sonata is determined by its ideas
- there is no recap as such, just a
sense of continual evolution. As Sirodeau
writes, ‘the composer seems to find
himself on the tip of an apocalyptic
sword ... and the listener remains imprisoned
by the spirit of confusion and even
of irreparable tragedy that dominates
this work.’
Often dark and violent,
but also containing passages of Messiaen-like
luminosity, this is a tour de force,
a piece that simply refuses to let the
listener go. The very close is typical
in its thought-provoking way, leaving
the listener hanging in the air. Ee
are left waiting for the next Sonata
- Volume 2 of this series is a June
2004 release, BIS CD-1414.
Incidentally, Sirodeau’s
biography of Feinberg (actually the
first two pages of his booklet notes)
are available for viewing on the Web
at www.skfe.com/biog_en_feinberg_sirodeau.html
.
The present issue is
not really one to listen to straight
through, not if you’re really
listening - it would simply be too tiring.
Enjoy the Sonatas one at a time, and
enjoy the voyage of discovery.
Colin Clarke
Samuil
FEINBERG
(1890-1962) Piano
Sonata No.7 Op.21 (1924-28) Piano Sonata
No.8 Op.21a (1933-34) Piano Sonata No.9
Op.29 (1939) Piano Sonata No.10 Op.30
(1940-44) Piano Sonata No.11 Op.40 (1952)
Piano Sonata No.12 Op.48 (1962) 
Nikolaos Samaltanos (piano) – Sonatas
9, 10 and 11 Christophe Sirodeau (piano)
– Sonatas 1, 8 and 12
Recorded in the Eglise Evangélique
Saint-Marcel, Paris 1999-2002
BIS CD 1414 [79.57] [JW]
There
are tough and combative, rewarding and
enlivening things here; touching, too.
... see
Full Review
