I’d mentioned in an earlier review
that artists do many things to pass
the time between large works or
to pay the bills, and here we have
a disc of what many modern composers
did for that regular paycheck. It’s
been well documented elsewhere that
Alfred Schnittke earned his bread-money
by writing music for dozens of films.
As Schnittke’s star rose, his film
music never really followed suit.
Finally CPO came out with some of
the long-neglected pieces (see review)
and here Capriccio continues its
exploration of this neglected —
and quite significant — area of
his work (see review
of Volume 1).
For those who find Schnittke forbidding
and stark, here we have him, at
the outset, at his most accessible.
As soon as the introduction for
Clowns und Kinder is under
way, we find a very outgoing Schnittke,
clearly revealing the influence
of Shostakovich. One could say he
is leaning a bit heavily — the opening
bars immediately call to mind Shostakovich’s
own film music and Jazz suites,
right down to the instrumentation
of the title music and following
waltz-intermezzo. Schnittke knows
when he has a good thing, and the
theme for the waltz haunts most
of the subsequent music for this
film. It shows up first in the upper
strings and ends with the piano
replicating the wonderfully off-kilter
tumbling figure before it stops
abruptly. One doesn’t normally think
of Schnittke as hummable, but hummable
— even catchy — this is.
The disc moves to a slightly cooler
tone with the next film, Der
Walzer. The waltz theme insistently
bobs through all of the pieces here.
Schnittke can’t resist the urge
to quote Strauß, who is dragged
before the footlights with a swelling
in volume before he is unceremoniously
dumped off the lip of the stage
right onto the chimes. Schnittke
returns to his own waltz theme before
all crashes into a dissonant, tense
episode. In spite of all the waltz
swims to the surface of such dark
water and all returns to sunny sociability.
An exciting aspect of this recording
is the programming which is not
chronological, but begins with Schnittke
at his most accessible, progressing
on to more austere and, well, Schnittke-like
soundworlds. The Glasharmonika
shows aspects of the concerti grossi,
beginning with frosty, brittle music
that slides into a quaintly comforting
section that recalls earlier music
styles. It combines the use of a
Theremin and early Russian electronics
to replicate an unearthly mezzo-soprano
part. This is a challenging score,
both in the listening as well as
in the performing, and the Rundfunk-Sinfonieorchester
Berlin do admirably.
Perhaps most forbidding of all is
the final score Der Aufstieg,
the first track of which is a seven-minute-long
crescendo with outbursts from the
brass, mounting after a very long
build-up to a crashing climax. This
is followed by the “On the Sled”
section, an oppressive, obsessive
piece reeling in cold and self-doubt.
The regret of horrible deeds haunts
both the movie and the music, ending
strangely unresolved, not with a
bang but a whimper.
The sound quality of this SACD,
played for this review on a conventional
player, is exceptional, and the
argument is emphatically stated
in playback that Schnittke’s film
music is an artistically significant
area of his oeuvre that needs to
be explored further. An exciting
release.
David Blomenberg
see review
of Volume 1
for
details
Rundfunk-Sinfonieorchester
Berlin/Frank Strobel
[55:30]
