Tālivaldis ĶENIŅŠ (1919–2008)
Concerto di camera No.1 (1981) [20:28]
Concerto for Piano, Strings and Percussion (1990) [19:22]
Symphony No.1 (1959) [17:59]
Agnese Egliņa (piano)
Latvian National Symphony Orchestra/Guntis Kuzma, Andris Poga
rec. 2020, Great Guild Hall, Riga, Latvia
ONDINE ODE1350-2 [57:49]
Latvian-born Tālivaldis Ķeniņš (also often spelled Kenins, which I use subsequently in this review) received his first musical training in Riga. War, in which he had been conscripted, intervened and he felt the urge to leave the country then under Soviet rule. He left for Paris where he studied with Tony Aubin and Olivier Messiaen. He then left for Canada where he lived all his life, acquiring Canadian nationality, which is why he was first and foremost regarded as a Canadian composer. I for one came to know some of his music listening to Canadian discs.
The three works recorded here span some twenty years of his creative life and thus provide a good survey of his musical progress. The earliest work here is his Symphony No.1, completed in 1959. It is a fairly compact piece of music in which not a single note is wasted. It is laid out in three movements: a rather short and condensed opening Moderato followed by a deeply-felt Largo e sostenuto which is the real emotional core of the entire work, building from a meditative bassoon solo which is soon taken-up by the other instruments to reach a searingly beautiful climax before retracing its way back to the opening mood, which is in turn shattered by the animated final movement characterised by syncopated rhythms and fugal writing of some considerable energy momentarily relieved by calmer episodes before rushing towards its forceful conclusion. The composer was forty when he composed his First Symphony but by then he had clear views about what he was aiming at. He composed seven more symphonies, the Eighth being written in 1986. One might of course think that a composer born in Eastern Europe and having lived there for several formative years would have been influenced by the example of some of his elders such as Shostakovich, but his First Symphony is a strongly personal piece of music.
The Concerto di camera No.1 for piano, flute, clarinet and string orchestra shows another facet of Kenins' musical thinking. It is again laid out in three movements of fairly equal length and displays some elegant neo-classicism in its outer movements, whereas the central Lento cantabile is a quite beautiful, often elegiac piece of music which may sometimes bring some of Bartók's night music to mind. This is clearly not a virtuoso concerto but rather some sort of concerto grosso with important parts for flute and clarinet, superbly played here by flautist Tommaso Pratola and clarinettist Mārtiņš Circenis.
In the summer of 1989, Kenins returned to Latvia for the first time since going into exile. At that time Latvia was still part of the USSR but tensions were already being felt which progressively led to a declaration of independence in May 1990 but also to some severe repression from the Soviet authorities. The Concerto for piano, strings and percussion composed in 1990 clearly reflects on these times, although that might simply be regarded as a vaguely subliminal programme underlying the musical structure and contend of the piece. The composer summed it all up some time later saying that “the texture of the sound might create an impression of impulsive strength and of a confident explosion of sound but it rather points out to feelings of bitterness, anguish, and shock brought on by the tragic recent events in my homeland”. The first movement is full of propulsive, rough-edged energy that may hint at Honegger's music but those feelings are still more to the fore in the beautifully tragic second movement which – once again – brings Bartók's tense counterpoint to mind with extraordinarily gripping impact. The second movement, with its uncompromising logic, is clearly the crux of the entire work. I for one am in no doubt about it: Ķeniņs' Concerto for piano, strings and percussion is a marvellous work which should definitely be much better known and clearly deserves wider exposure.
These three works receive here superbly committed readings aided by some very fine engineering and will hopefully trigger some renewed interest in this composer's music. Anyone with a liking for accessible and strongly expressive contemporary music should certainly consider this and is worth buying for the Concerto for piano, strings and percussion alone, but there is still more to enjoy on this most welcome release.
Hubert Culot
