PROGRAMME NOTES
7 May 2006
The Soviet Dissidents
If we are to trust one of Russia’s greatest authors, Feodor Dostoyevsky, introspection, self-doubt, pessimism and individualism, as well as mysticism and deep religiosity, typified true Russian spirituality at the turn of the last century.
Political and ideological oppression, as well as miserable living conditions, brought on with the reign of Communism after 1917 did little or nothing to foster a change in these characteristics, yet demanded that they be completely eradicated and replaced with false optimism, cheerfulness, self-assurance and collectivism.
Avant-garde ideas in art were deemed “dangerous” by the dictatorial socialist regime and artists were denied their freedom to create as inspired by reality; instead they were forced to adopt an artistically monstrous ideology called “socialist realism”.
In the 1920s Lenin proudly confessed himself a “barbarian” and declared war on all “isms” (as he referred to Expressionism, Cubism, Futurism etc.), claiming that art should be “for everyone”, i.e. tailored to please millions of previously illiterate peasants, as well as serve the ideological purposes of the Communist Party. But it wasn’t until Stalin’s regime in the 1930-1950s that Lenin’s ideas (or rather, anti-ideas) were fully imposed on the intelligentsia, with all the consequences issuing from it.
A very few talented composers (and artists), such as Shostakovich and Prokofiev, managed to adapt their creativity to the new demands; others, whether unable or unwilling to do such compromises, had to find alternative ways to survive. Many did not survive at all.
The music of Alfred Schnittke, Arvo Pärt and Galina Ustvolskaya epitomizes the national characteristics stated above. All three were hailed as “extremely promising” at the start of their careers; tragically, as soon as they developed their individuality and progressive styles, their art met with extreme reaction from “the top” and was banned as self-indulgent, unrealistic and “decadent”.
The three composers’ reactions were different: Schnittke retreated from the “classical art music” field and found a creative outlet in the composition of film scores. Arvo Pärt withered in self-imposed “artistic silence” almost until his immigration to Vienna (later Berlin) in the 1980s. Ustvolskaya, whose name has become a synonym for artistic integrity and absolute refusal to compromise, made her living as a music teacher and composed “for the drawer.” It wasn’t until the 1980s and the advent of perestroika that these composers’ works became known and performed in the former Soviet Union, as well as internationally; in Ustvolskaya’s case — mostly internationally.
Schnittke’s cello and piano sonata No. 1 is one of the composer’s most celebrated works, written in his famous self-described “poly-style”. Despite its title and the presence of three separate movements (performed attacca, thus giving the impression of oneness), “sonata” refers more to the length of the piece and the extremely demanding cello and piano parts, than to its form. The three movements relate to each other in the prelude-main musical body-postlude manner and use some identical musical material, presented in different (always dark) moods, evoking images of soul searching, fight and defeat.
Arvo Pärt’s Spiegel im Spiegel, originally written for violin and piano, was later transcribed by the composer for other instrumentations, including cello and piano. The work, minimalist in spirit, features two short motives (G-A and B-flat-A) in the cello, repeating eight times each (to the total of 16 times), every time adding one more note, with the last two motives consisting of nine notes each. The cello is accompanied by evenly spaced, gentle triplets in the piano.
Galina Ustvolskaya’s Grand Duet is somewhat of a legendary piece among those familiar with and appreciative of the composer’s oeuvre. One of Ustvolskaya’s known quotations regarding her music (which she generally refuses to discuss) is that “it is never chamber, rather symphonic, even if notated only for one or two instruments”. The Grand Duet for cello and piano is the embodiment of that statement. Both instruments’ parts are formidably difficult, pushing the performers’ abilities and physical endurance to the extreme. The five movements are thematically interrelated, with the first theme (in piano) appearing at the very end of the work. The two performers are given instruction to sit apart from each other (symbolic of separation and alienation), and their “duet” is very seldom in agreement — almost throughout the entire piece the general feeling is that of oppression, contradiction and clash. All tempos, dynamics, instrument registers and other expressive means are extreme — examples include a tempo marking of 276MM, frequent use of ƒƒƒƒ and pppp and indications such as expressivissimo. These, as well as huge dissonant chords and tone clusters, create the impression of sound and form on a grand scale.
© 2006 Tzenka Dianova. Use by permission only.
School of Music Theatre, University of Auckland
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