This disc emanates from an inspired, inveterate and dedicated Hovhaness 
          source. Peter Christ’s Crystal Records remains the home of the 
          composer’s own key-note recordings from the 
Poseidon LP label of the 1970s. This Cristofori product has been accommodated 
          within the Crystal stable. It reintroduces familiar Hovhaness recordings. 
          I say ‘familiar’ although the original Black Box issue from 
          2005 - minus some of the tracks here - never seemed to gain much prominence. 
          The Black Box was reviewed 
here by Jonathan Woolf in 2005. 
    
  An assertively muscular and forward-surging 
Prayer of St
Gregory
  features an urgent solo from Andrei Ikov. This is reverential music which
in
  this performance remains in touch with a fast pulse - no suggestion of
static
  noodling here. The 1954 
Concerto for two pianos is a fascinating
three-movement
  piece. The long, sinuous woodwind and violin lines course passionately
forward
  in an 
Andante and are punctuated by harshly stony dissonance from
the
  pianos. Thrumming strings exacerbate the apocalyptic tension with the two
pianos
  carrying forward their hieratically dark role from the first movement.
Brass
  and tam-tam pile the atmosphere higher. Anxiety mediates with consolation
in
  the final 
Moderato but soon reverts to dissonantly swirling angst.
This
  is a work closer in spirit to the dark intimations and clashing rites of
the
  
Odysseus and 
Vishnu symphonies rather than to
Hovhaness’s
  softer-contoured works such as 
St Vartan and 
Mysterious
Mountain.
  Martin Berkofsky is no Hovhaness tyro. He recorded
Khaldis,
the
  concerto for piano, four trumpets and percussion (1951), the 
Mount
Katahdin
  piano sonata (1987) and the piano solo 
Fantasy (1944) in the 1970s
and
  these are on 
Poseidon
  CD814. 
    
  Then come the 
Three Pieces for two pianos where Berkofsky is
joined
  in the first by Atakan Sari and in the other two by Sergei Podobedov.
Mihr(1945)
  comes as balm after the complexities and tensions of the Concerto. The
language
  reminded me of the folk-like exotic piano pieces of Komitas Vartabed as
recently
  recorded for Kalan by Sahan Artzruni. The very brief
Ko-ola-u(1962)
  chimes with hypnotic sweetness and the bass line anchors and earths the
music.
  There’s something quite Baxian about this writing with its setting
of
  extreme treble against extreme bass. 
Vijag (1946)
rushes
  forward with a quick repetitive carillon. One can see how Steve Reich
might
  well have been influenced by these three pieces. 
Lousadzak
carries
  the suggestion of the sitar and the sway of North African music to which
the
  piano lends dynamism and momentum. It’s a meaty single movement work
without
  the out-and-out vanguard clashes of the Concerto for two pianos and
orchestra.
  The rippling piano solo often recalls the most Mephisto outbursts of Liszt
in
  
Totentanz. About halfway through Berkofsky is joined by a violin
solo,
  here taken by Nikolai Zherenkov - an imploring submissive line to the
piano’s
  cantorial confidence and self-absorption. 
Lousadzak knows the
mysteries
  but here, by contrast with the Two-Piano Concerto, the arcane spirits are
benign
  and dignified and expound celestial delights. 
    
  The liner booklet runs to an unstinting 32 pages, overwhelmingly in
English.
  It is decked out with pictures and reproductions of concert bills; all in
all
  a major contribution to the Hovhaness literature, audio and written. It
also
  serves to contrast the lyrical and dissonant sides of Hovhaness. 
    
  
Rob Barnett  
  
  
Review index: 
Alan
Hovhaness