Though the great Shostakovich
Piano Quintet may appear to be the main
bill of fare here, this disc is undoubtedly
of chief importance for the other composer
featured. Although she is still a relatively
obscure figure, more has come to light
in recent years about Galina Ustvolskaya,
and in particular her often volatile
relationship with Shostakovich. He always
acknowledged her ability and influence,
but she has tended to just be a name
on the periphery of Soviet music. That
has changed slowly and discs such as
this excellent RCA Catalyst reissue
does her cause a lot of good. She has
also been championed of late by James
MacMillan, part of whose Guardian article
from October 2003, entitled ‘Unholier
than thou’, is quoted on the cover.
He has regularly tried to feature her
music in concerts and has performed
all three of the works on this disc.
It’s great to be able to hear for yourself
why he rates it so highly.
These are all chamber-size
works (even the Symphony) but I was
totally unprepared for the power and
impact of the opening item, innocuously
titled Octet. Her studies
with Shostakovich were important to
her, and the debt is audibly there in
this early piece. As the sleeve-writer
rightly comments, one hears the ‘hallmarks
of development-through-repetition, accentuated
ostinati and unyielding severity’, traits
which became a seminal part of her own
musical language. But this is powerfully
individual music, concentrated and grim
in places given its genesis in late-1940s
Soviet Union, almost inevitably. Nevertheless
it displays an exceptional ear for the
sonorities of her small, unusual combination
of four violins, two oboes, piano and
timpani. The music has a palpable sense
of organic growth, with simple melodic
strands, harmonic cells repeated and
altered into patterns that acquire a
real hypnotic pull. One can easily hear
why her music has been linked to the
minimalist movement, but Ustvolskaya
displays far more control over the material
and obviously feels condensed brevity
is ultimately more powerful than the
half-hours (or more) of phased repetition
we often get with other composers. The
push towards the final movement feels
absolutely inevitable, with the visceral
shock of seven huge, climactic timpani
thwacks - wonderfully recorded - bringing
the work to a startling conclusion that
leaves one dazed. At first I thought
the writer’s suggestion of a firing
squad a little fanciful – now I’m not
so sure.
The next piece, again
with the rather terse and severely modernist
title of Composition No.
3, comes from some years later
but is recognisably from the same imagination.
The dissonance is taken up a notch and
the composer does away completely with
bar lines to give more rhythmic freedom,
but one still senses music that is in
a state of searching, music that is
suspended, uncertain, questioning. I
completely agree with the writer that
its philosophical and emotional landscapes
suggest Ives’s Unanswered Question,
even if the basic tools and language
are different. MacMillan considers the
subtitle, ‘Benedictus qui venit’, to
be the important factor, clearly linking
the work to the Catholic mass. Whatever
one’s view, there is no doubt that this
is seven minutes of seething, uncomfortable
angst, brilliantly scored for flutes,
bassoons and piano.
The Symphony
follows on logically, but as might by
now be expected, this is no conventional
symphony. A brooding twelve-minute setting
of the Lord’s Prayer, it takes the musical
and religious dimensions a stage further.
It once again shows her predilection
for unusual combinations, being scored
for five instrumentalists (violin, oboe,
trumpet, tuba and percussion) and bass
reciter. It is certainly symphonic in
its tight structure, use of tiny cells
that grow organically and its sense
of inevitability. It is also acerbic,
sparsely coloured and uncompromising
in its depiction of an artist’s glimpse
into the dark night of the soul, of
the depiction of a nation’s tragedy.
After all this, the
Shostakovich Piano Quintet
actually comes as light relief. The
classical decorum, strong vein of lyrical
charm and lack of confrontational gesture
provide a good foil for the Ustvolskaya
items. It receives here a good, rather
than great performance. Competition
is stiff, and I felt more than once
that key moments were a shade under-characterised.
The imperious opening gesture, for instance,
does not grab your attention here quite
the same as, say, Constantine Orbelian
and the Russian Quartet (Russian Disc,
coupled with an excellent account of
the Schnittke Piano Quintet). The long,
neo-Bachian fugue that forms the second
movement unfolds with a firm sense of
line, but the cheeky scherzo needs a
greater sense of merriment and abandon.
Likewise, the Intermezzo could be wittier,
but I liked the sense of stoic grandeur
in the finale. In short, an intelligent,
musical reading, that is strong on dignity
and well recorded but a little short
on irony and wit.
Even if your favourite
recording of the Shostakovich Quintet
is unlikely to be displaced, this disc
demands your attention for the Ustvolskaya
works, music that is never comfortable
listening but will linger in your memory
long after the disc has stopped spinning.
Tony Haywood
Kathryn Stott (piano) 
