Silvestrov has long 
                been obsessed by the idea of postlude. 
                "Everything we wish to say is an 
                echo, an allusion, a postlude to something 
                that has already been said at some time". 
                These words, presumably by the composer, 
                printed in Tatjana Frumkis’s essay printed 
                in the accompanying booklet, sum it 
                all up perfectly well. Indeed, Silvestrov 
                composed three chamber works sharing 
                that title, and this set of Postludes 
                may be performed either as a whole or 
                separately: Postludium DSCH 
                for soprano, violin, cello and piano 
                (1981), Postlude for solo 
                violin (1981) and Postlude 
                for cello and piano (1982). Silvestrov 
                composed a Violin Sonata titled Post 
                Scriptum in 1990-1991 which 
                also relates to the same concept. 
              
 
              
Postludium 
                ("Symphonic poem for piano and 
                orchestra") completed in 1984 partakes 
                of the same idea. Postludium 
                and the somewhat later Metamusik 
                share many similarities but the most 
                striking difference is that Metamusik 
                is twice as long as Postludium. 
                Structurally, the two pieces have much 
                in common: both are for piano and orchestra, 
                both open with a powerful ‘Big Bang’ 
                and both include slower sections glancing 
                back at Romantic music, albeit through 
                allusions rather than mere quotations. 
                One might even be tempted to consider 
                Postludium as a try-out 
                for the later, larger work. The earlier 
                work, in spite of its relative brevity, 
                is magnificently accomplished, fully 
                standing on its own musical merits. 
                It is a compact, tightly knit and – 
                on the whole – perfectly balanced piece 
                of music. As already mentioned, it opens 
                with an arresting orchestral gesture 
                and the ensuing music is imbued with 
                doom-laden urgency. The music is more 
                overtly dramatic and straight-to-the-point 
                than in Metamusik which 
                explores its material on a much longer 
                time span. The music quietly dissolves 
                in a tender, dream-like coda. No wonder 
                that this piece has been recorded on 
                several occasions. I can think of – 
                at least – three other recordings of 
                it : one was – and may still be – available 
                on a rare Russian disc which I remember 
                having seen in a record shop in Brussels, 
                whereas two fairly recent recordings 
                are still available (on Sony as a ‘fill-up’ 
                to the large-scale Fifth Symphony and 
                on Megadisc MDC 7837). 
              
 
              
Metamusik, 
                too, opens with a mighty wave of sounds 
                washing everything aside. This is followed 
                by a cadenza introducing a more troubled, 
                menacing section punctuated by massive 
                chords and angry interjections from 
                the orchestra. This sombre, ominous 
                mood is sustained at quite a length 
                in ebbing waves. The tense mood of the 
                music then relaxes in a musing episode 
                in which the piano spins soft, bell-like 
                figurations and arpeggios. At about 
                10’20’’ (track 1), the music looks back 
                in a Rachmaninov-like meditation, which 
                – curiously enough – superficially recalls 
                Richard Rodney Bennett’s romantic film 
                scores. This is followed by a long questing 
                episode more or less mirroring the opening 
                bars of the work. At about twenty minutes 
                in, the Romantic music is resumed with 
                a deeper sense of loss (or regret?) 
                signalling the beginning of what is 
                actually the work’s long-drawn coda 
                concluding in an ethereal mood. Metamusik 
                is a major work, although not an easy 
                one; and certainly one that does not 
                easily yield all its secrets. Silvestrov’s 
                music is not difficult to listen to; 
                the difficulty is rather to see through 
                or between the notes, as Alexei Lubimov 
                rightly remarks in his short essay printed 
                in the booklet. 
              
 
              
Silvestrov is an important 
                composer whose music has been fairly 
                well served so far, as far as commercial 
                recordings are concerned, although some 
                of the symphonies are still unrecorded 
                at the time of writing. He has also 
                found a number of wonderful performers 
                wholly dedicated to his music (Lubimov 
                also has recorded Silvestrov’s Piano 
                Sonatas and Cello Sonata – the latter 
                with Ivan Monighetti – for Erato several 
                years ago). All concerned here play 
                with convincing commitment. These superb 
                performances, recorded under the composer’s 
                supervision, are self-commending. Another 
                magnificent release from ECM. I now 
                wish that ECM could go on recording 
                more of Silvestrov’s music. A recording 
                of the Third Symphony Eschatophonie 
                is now long overdue. 
              
 
              
Hubert Culot