As a huge fan of Weinberg I am thrilled that the list of discs of his
music being released is ever-growing. This latest addition is particularly
welcome since it includes solo, chamber and orchestral works. Additionally
since these five works are from various periods of his composing life they
offer an interesting insight into his creative thinking.
Gidon Kremer places Weinberg’s lengthy and extremely complex sonata for
solo violin alongside that of Bartók which is considered as one of the
pinnacles of 20
th century music. This will undoubtedly surprise
many, especially those who have not yet discovered the breadth of invention
this composer demonstrates. The work is dedicated to the composer’s father
who, along with the rest of his family who had escaped the pogroms which
swept away his grandparents and many other relatives, died in the Nazi’s
concentration camps. Weinberg was left as the sole survivor. Kremer’s
playing is superb as one would expect and shows complete understanding of
the material by a violinist who has clearly lived with the work for some
considerable time. Solo violin sonatas are not an easy proposition for many
but for those prepared to listen to this work several times the rewards will
flow. Gradually complexity is replaced by sheer beauty which shines through
strongly together with both irony and wit.
The
Trio is much more immediately appealing: full of catchy
little tunes laced with Weinberg’s facility for incorporating Jewish musical
references that involve irony, wit, sadness and resignation. The first
movement is merrily dance-like while the second is melancholic in nature.
The last reverts to the atmosphere of the opening, though now whetted with a
sardonic edge. It is surprising and regrettable to read that this was the
only piece he wrote for this combination of instruments.
The earliest work on the first disc is Weinberg’s
Sonatina for
violin and piano which he wrote in 1949. Considering the political
atmosphere of that period of Soviet history, with Stalin’s paranoia
manifesting itself in increasingly tyrannical edicts that swept millions
into the gulags, this work is surprisingly upbeat. You can hear this in its
opening movement although the second is a good deal more serious. The last
is also happy with dancing rhythms subjected to some ironic twists. It is
said that Weinberg, who had more reasons than Shostakovich to be anxious
about the authorities given their attitude towards Jewish composers, was
nevertheless generally given to greater optimism and this is reflected in
his music.
The second disc opens with his
Concertino, Op.42 for violin and string
orchestra which dates from 1948, the same period as the
Sonatina. It’s another breezy and delightfully tuneful work that
often sounds a million miles away from the terrors being visited upon the
composer’s adopted homeland.
Reviewing a disc of Russian Violin Concertos
back in January which also included this work I noted how much the opening
movement reminded me of Vaughan Williams, Bax and Walton. It radiates a
feeling of rolling countryside which is so often reflected in English music.
The first movement fairly skips along with a bright, carefree, happy tune
while the second, though more reflective, is still light in character. The
last is in the form of a waltz with a charming rather wistful melody at its
core though it becomes manic at the end. The booklet notes say of the whole
work that “... its lyrical character satisfied official demands for
ingratiating melody ...” If that is the case then I say that it’s an ill
wind that blows no one any good. After all, there is so much of Weinberg
that had to steer carefully in the prevailing atmosphere in the Soviet
Union, that is more than just listenable but is genuinely wonderful. The
same can be said for Shostakovich and a host of other Soviet composers;
without the diktats of the authorities which were ridiculous at best and
downright evil at worst we wouldn’t have Shostakovich’s fifth symphony which
became the public’s favourite which it still is.
Weinberg’s Tenth Symphony, written in 1968 was commissioned by conductor
Rudolf Barshai and is dedicated to him and the Moscow Chamber Orchestra.
Scored for string orchestra it is a remarkable work which has been described
as “... a truly major achievement of contemporary music, standing next to
Einojuhani Rautavaara's 7th Symphony "Angel of Light" from
1994, and Olivier Messiaen's
Turangalila Symphony from
1948.” This is completely justified since this mighty work is much greater
than the sum of its parts and across its 34 minutes inhabits whole worlds.
Within it there are periods in which solo instruments give the impression of
a concerto for variously violin, viola, cello and even double bass. It is a
complex work that requires several hearings before it reveals itself
completely and is the closest to atonality that I have heard Weinberg come.
The first movement opens with a theme that recurs several times. This
symphony is experimental in nature as well as being quite a lot darker than
I have become used to expecting although it lightens up later for a short
time. The cello takes a significant role in this movement heralding a return
to darkness. It is not surprising that, originally scored for only 17
instruments, it has the feeling of a chamber symphony. That said, the
powerful nature of the music seems accentuated by the sparse writing.
Generally I can do no better than quote what the brochure writer Wolfgang
Sandner says, “... above all it is an uncommonly gripping work flanked by
two mighty
grave sections and abounding in unexpected combinations
of sound, powerful
forte explosions, orgies of glissando, and
furtive drone basses beneath freely phrased cantilenas and contorted
rhythms, including a sonic Tower of Babel perceptible only through a perusal
of the score.” It certainly gives profound food for thought as a symphony
that is as serious as any one can name. It is so utterly compelling that it
doesn’t easily let you go and the feeling that you must hear it again, when
you surely will uncover more layers, is almost irresistible. Beware, though,
as it leaves you quite drained.
The Kremerata Baltica is a fantastically impressive ensemble whose every
fibre is strained to ensuring readings of the highest quality. Each of the
featured soloists proves himself or herself amongst the worthiest of
musicians. All go towards making this an extremely significant release in
the ever-expanding discography of a true giant of twentieth century
music.
Steve Arloff
