Here’s another name,
Gavril Popov, that might not be too familiar to all music lovers. He was a
Soviet composer (1904-1972) who never really got much of a chance to show his
stuff in the repressive regime of the 1930’s, 40’s, and 50’s when he was in his
prime. The conductor on this Telarc release, Leon Botstein, in a booklet note
says that Popov’s Symphony No. 1
“fits into the category of great music in the orchestral repertory that
requires advocacy.” In other words, since nobody knows about it, somebody’s got
to speak up for it. Thus, the Telarc recording.
The First Symphony had exactly one
performance, in Leningrad in 1935, and the Soviet musical censors immediately
banned it as being too “formalist,” meaning it didn’t conform to the
government’s ultraconservative musical tastes. Apparently, no one ever
performed it again in Popov’s lifetime, and folks only rediscovered it and
played it again a few years ago. It has still not caught on, much to the
annoyance of Maestro Botstein.
One can understand,
however, why not everyone in the world knows the piece. It’s gloomy as hell.
The Symphony is in three movements,
which the composer described as representing “1) struggle and failure, 2)
humanity, and 3) the energy, will and joy of the victor’s work.” Interestingly,
the three movements get progressively shorter as they go along: The massive,
hectic first movement, an Allegro, is
over twenty-three minutes long; the slow second movement, a Largo, is sixteen minutes; and the quick
third movement, a Scherzo, is nine
minutes. I assume the composer intended for the music to diminish in length by
3-2-1 to reinforce his musical themes, but I’m not entirely sure why.
In any case, the
whole work is full of conflicts and contrasts, which seem to delight Maestro
Botstein. The first movement alone has enough ideas in it to fill three
symphonies, including a slow middle section that comes out of nowhere and leads
to the “failure” indicated by the composer. This first movement begins with a
big bang, goes on through all sorts of gymnastic convulsions, and ends with a
repeated whimper, fading into nothingness. The second movement is so melancholy
it would leave Jack Nicholson’s Joker with a frown. And the third movement
seems actually to be bouncy and, in its odd way, cheerful. I guess that’s what
Popov meant by “joy.”
Accompanying the
Popov First Symphony is as opposite a
piece of music as one could imagine, Dimitri Shostakovich's Theme and Variations, Op. 3 (1922), a
student work that no one ever performed during Shostakovich’s lifetime. It is
very much in the lightweight vein compared to the tumultuous Popov piece, the
Shostakovich smooth, straightforward, and romantic, almost chamber-like in
tone.
The Telarc sound is
every bit as good as their finest recordings: very natural, very dynamic, very
wide ranging, the percussion especially impressive, and the big bass drum
making its presence felt all through the First
Symphony. Everything comes together to make a fascinating if not wholly
satisfying album: the first-rate sound, the obscure First Symphony, and the virtually unknown Variations. Well, it’s different.
To hear a brief excerpt from this album, click here:
JJP
JJP
