Alfred SCHNITTKE (1934-1998) Concerto for Viola and Orchestra
(1985) [33:42]
Dmitri SHOSTAKOVICH (1906-1976) Sonata for Viola and Piano (1975)
[31:39]
Antoine Tamestit (viola); Markus Hadulla (piano)
Warsaw Philharmonic/Dmitrij Kitajenko
rec. October 2007, Warsaw and January 2008, Sion, Switzerland. DDD
AMBROISIE AM168 [65:26]
The opening Largo of Schnittke’s Viola Concerto is dark
and harrowing, with an ominous atmosphere beautifully conveyed by these performers.
This first movement sets the scene for what is to come: a serious, thought-provoking
work which seems almost to predict the composer’s impending ill-health.
The second movement opens with an explosive repeated pattern on the viola,
to the accompaniment of strong, pounding beats in the orchestra. The momentum
seems to increase almost uncontrollably, building the tensions to bursting
point. A wonderful section of turgid, sour harmonies breaks in to the movement,
before the opening material is transformed into a ghoulish waltz. A baroque-style
ornament, first heard in the opening movement, breaks the tension, and is characteristic
of Schnittke’s music, often using elements from previous eras. This is
built into a wonderfully eerie melody line, with the viola line rising higher
and higher in pitch over an arpeggiated accompaniment, before the mood of the
opening returns, this time with grotesque waltz elements occasionally appearing.
Military aspects are undoubtedly present, and the cadenza at the end of the
movement made me wonder if, despite happiness at the end of the regime, there
might also have a been a hint of fear at the unknown which was to follow it.
The final movement is contemplative and has a sense of introspection. This
is a stunning movement, with strong emotional impact and a well developed compositional
style. The end is particularly equisite, and Tamestit’s performance captures
the essence of the music extremely well.
There is a sense of freedom in Schnittke’s writing; composed in the year
that Gorbachev came to power in the USSR, the regime was relaxing and Soviet
citizens were able to travel for the first time. Presumably also, artists were
allowed freer expression in their works. This is a stunning work, which is
powerful and dramatic in equal measure.
Shostakovich’s Viola Sonata was composed ten years later, when
the composer was already dying. He never heard the work performed but worked
closely with its dedicatee, violist Fyodor Druzhinin during the compositional
process. In slow-fast-slow form, the opening movement uses long melodic lines
which interweave between the instruments, creating a long arc structure and
giving a sense of a long journey. The second movement is in the style of a
Scherzo, brighter and lighter than the opening. The music develops into a folk-inspired
dance, whirling and then fizzling out towards the end of the movement. This
is an enjoyable movement, with technical challenges such as parallel fourths
in the viola part, performed here with ease. The final movement is a tribute
to Beethoven, and is reminiscent of the Moonlight Sonata in the pedaled
accompaniment of the piano. This is immediately poignant, as though the central
movement was a brief moment of respite in an otherwise sorrowful time. The
viola’s dotted rhythm motif is heavy, interspersing a legato melody line.
The viola’s sound is perfectly suited to this music; rich, sonorous and
wonderfully expressive, without the brightness of the violin or the depth of
the cello. It is testament to Shostakovich’s genius that he writes so
successfully for this instrument, bringing out its idiosyncratic qualities
to give a sense of raw emotion. The playing of Antoine Tamestit and pianist
Markus Hadulla is breathtaking throughout. The performance seems effortless
despite its intense musical impact.
This is a wonderful recording, capturing the essence of both works with understanding
and communicating effectively to the listening audience. I am lucky enough
to be able to listen to music in one form or another on a daily basis, including
by a range of composers and by performers at various stages in their careers.
They are mostly always technically perfect, especially in recorded form, and
that is something that can be taken for granted most of the time. Very occasionally,
however, I hear a recording which moves me to the extent that this one did;
a rare exception where the performers transcend the technical to create something
truly magical, extending a musical and emotional message to the listener. Exceptional.
Carla Rees