Editorial Board
MusicWeb International
Founding Editor Rob Barnett Editor in Chief
John Quinn Contributing Editor Ralph Moore Webmaster
David Barker Postmaster
Jonathan Woolf MusicWeb Founder Len Mullenger
Buy
through MusicWeb
for £13.50 postage paid World-wide.
Boris
TISCHENKO (b. 1939)
Violin Concerto No. 1, Op. 9 (1959) [25:33]
Concerto for Cello, Seventeen Wind Instruments, Percussion and Harmonium,
Op. 23 (1963) [26:20]
Soundtrack to the Motion Picture Suzdal (1964) [12:07]
Viktor Liberman (violin); Mstislav Rostropovich (cello); Valentina
Kozyreva (soprano); Anatoly Manukhov (tenor) Leningrad Chamber Orchestra/Edward Serov (Violin Concerto);
Members of the Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra/ Igor Blazhkov (Cello
Concerto); Kirov Opera Chamber Orchestra/Igor Blazhkov (Suzdal)
rec. St. Petersburg Recording Studio, 1977 (Violin Concerto); 1966
(Cello Concerto); 1967 (Suzdal)
NORTHERN FLOWERS NF/PMA9967 [64:02]
Boris Tischenko studied at the Leningrad Conservatory with,
amongst others, Galina Ustvolskaya. After graduation he pursued
further studies with Shostakovich. Now over seventy, the CD
booklet nonetheless informs us that he is currently Professor
of Composition at the same conservatory where he was himself
a student. This disc contains three of his early works.
The Violin Concerto No. 1 dates from 1959, when the composer
was still a student, and seems to have been revised in 1964.
It is a strikingly original and individual work, and not only
because of the composer’s age. It opens with a long passage
for solo violin. Most of the very informative notes accompanying
this disc, signed Andrey Denisov, have been translated into
English by Sergey Suslov. My heart goes out to him, and I include
the following quote because the description is detailed and
helpful, but also to give the flavour of the notes themselves.
“Its calm sound combines cordial lyricism and tangible inner
energy. The woodwinds take up one of the theme’s tunes, and
suddenly an acute knock is heard after a brief stop. Awkward
and unexpected moves, whimsical rhythms, and rash soars of the
winds’ passages destroy the idyll of the concerto’s outset in
a wink.” Quite so. The acute knocks and whimsical rhythms are
characterised by a kind of violent orchestral writing where
fragments of themes and rhythms are tossed from one instrument
to another. The second movement is a rapid scherzo during which,
after a couple of minutes, the composer seems to forget he is
writing a violin concerto and leaves it to the orchestra alone
to build the music to a massive and dramatic climax. A percussion
passage has quite definite rock overtones to it, and this leads
to a long, mostly unaccompanied cadenza. The finale begins in
an atmosphere of rather sad calm, but becomes more violent and
dramatic later. The composer reserves his most beautiful and
original passage for the end, tender and resigned with some
dissonant but surprisingly affecting double stopping from the
soloist. The work ends in an atmosphere of delicious sweetness.
There is no doubt that the voice of at least one of the composer’s
teachers can be heard here, and not only in the highly effective
use of the celesta, but Tischenko’s own voice is much in evidence
too, and I hope it will be enough recommendation to readers
when I say that this is a work to which I expect to return many
times.
I listened to all three works without access to a score, but
the performance of the Violin Concerto seems to leave nothing
to be desired. The solo part is very demanding, but Viktor Liberman,
who gave the work’s first performance and to whom it is dedicated,
seems equal to it. The orchestra plays very well.
The Cello Concerto was first performed by the soloist on this
record, a certain Mstislav Rostropovich. How many young composers
have such a chance? The accompanying ensemble is an unorthodox
one, and, strangely, though the translation problems render
the sentence ambiguous once again, the notes suggest that Shostakovich,
of all people, transcribed the work for orchestra in 1969. Laurel
Fay’s biography of Shostakovich (OUP, 2000) seems to support
this strange assertion – why would Shostakovich do this? When
on earth would he have time? – as does Shostakovich himself
in Solomon Volkov’s disputed Testimony. The work itself,
however, seems significantly less inspired than the earlier
one. In one extended movement, it opens once again with the
solo instrument alone, a cadenza of almost six minutes, beginning
calmly and rising to a strong, dissonant climax before subsiding
again. The accompanying wind instruments appear virtually one
by one, beginning with the solo trumpet. The musical language
is more advanced, more “difficult” than was the case in the
earlier work, but the material seems less memorable. One passage
in particular has the soloist repeating over and over again
a tiny motif, neither very interesting in itself nor particularly
dramatic or logical in context. The main body of the work leads
to an orchestral dislocation similar to that which Britten stunningly
contrived at the end of the second movement of his Sinfonia
da Requiem of 1940. Had the Russian composer, still barely
out of his student days, heard the work? This leads to a powerfully
dramatic climax which in turn leads to the most satisfying passage
once again, the tranquil coda. It is here that the harmonium
appears for the first time, and the notes are quite right when
they suggest that the instrument’s timbre is such that, when
it begins to sing, one might easily mistake it for the wind
ensemble. The work ends quietly, with constant repetitions of
a short, sad, rather folk-like melodic tag which has been present
in one form or another, throughout the work.
The thirty-nine year-old cello virtuoso’s presence ensures another
satisfying performance. The wind and percussion ensemble plays
well, and the 1966 recording sounds better than many Russian
recordings of the period. There is some strange vocalising throughout,
probably from the conductor, though it appears to be coming
from the right of the sound stage. It’s not particularly distracting.
Wind instruments are very much in evidence again in the music
Tischenko composed for Solomon Abramovich Shuster’s short film
about the historic Russian town of Suzdal. The disc presents
a kind of suite of nine short movements played without a break.
The musical language is quite advanced, and this is decidedly
not typical film music. A solo tenor and, later, a solo soprano,
sing a setting of a rather sombre folk text. The work ends in
quiet mystery. The performance seems perfectly to realise the
composer’s intentions.
The Violin Concerto is a striking and original work. The other
two works are more elusive, but with continued exposure to them
may well grow on me. The performances and recording are exemplary.
The presentation is fine, though it is a pity about the English
translation. All in all, a highly recommendable disc to adventurous
collectors, and especially those interested in Russian music
who might be particularly intrigued to hear the music of a composer
apparently held in high esteem by Dmitry Shostakovich.
Reviews
from previous months Join the mailing list and receive a hyperlinked weekly update on the
discs reviewed. details We welcome feedback on our reviews. Please use the Bulletin
Board
Please paste in the first line of your comments the URL of the review to
which you refer.