Sofia Gubaidulina: Triple Concerto for Violin, Cello, and Bayan (CD Review)

by Karl Nehring

Also: “Freue Dich! (Rejoice!) Sonata for Violin and Cello. Baiba Skride, violin; Harriet Krijgh, cello; Elsbeth Moser, bayan; NDR Radiophilharmonie; Andrew Manze, conductor. ORFEO C230121

 

Back in 2022 we posted a review that featured CDs with music composed by Florence Price and Sofia Gubaidulina (you can read that review here) in which we began by pointing out what an abrupt shift in both style and mood it was to go from the music of one composer to the other. Surprisingly enough, this new release of two pieces from the Russian-born Gubaidulina (b. 1931), who has lived near Hamburg, Germany, for the past 32 years, features an even greater contrast in musical style and mood. It’s a strange production choice. We have paired together here on the same CD a full-blown concerto for three soloists (violin, cello, and bayan – a Russian cousin of the accordion with buttons only) and orchestra paired with an austere, rather severe, chamber composition for violin and cello. Beyond the obvious fact that they are written by the same person, about the only thing these two compositions have in common to merit their being paired together on the same program is fact that they have performers in common: violinist Baiba Skride and cellist Harriet Krijgh.

(By the way, when I went to look for the album on Amazon, I found the composer listed not as Gubaidulina, but rather as – are you ready for this? – Mozart. Huh? The best I can figure is that the AI “brain” or whatever they now use to put their site together somehow confused “Moser” and “Mozart,” had some sort of foggy mountain breakdown, and forgot all about poor Sofia. Sigh…)

 

At any rate, Gubaidulina discovered the bayan and its musical possibilities in the late 1970s and began writing classical compositions for it. It was the Swiss musician Elsbeth Moyer, who was teaching in Hanover, who suggested to Gubaidulina the idea of a concerto for the bayan plus the violin and cello. It is a fascinating work; not a relaxing, melodic work, but not a forbidding, hostile work either. Lasting nearly half an hour, it explores a variety of sonorities, the bayan adding an unusual contribution to the mix. Those who cannot abide contemporary orchestral music should probably pass this one by, but those who enjoy exploring new dimensions of orchestral sounds should find themselves delighted. The sonata, on the other hand, may not have quite the same widespread degree of appeal, being aimed more specifically at chamber music aficionados. As such, it is a piece that I believe one would have to see being performed in live recital to truly appreciate. As a purely sonic experience,  listening through loudspeakers or headphones, the sheer intensity of the music makes it challenging to follow over its more than half-hour duration. In any event, it certainly seems mismatched with its discmate, for the listener in the mood for an orchestral concerto is unlikely to be looking to follow that listening session with a sonata for two string instruments, and vice versa. 

The liner notes are informative, the engineering is of a high standard, and the music – the concerto especially – is certainly interesting. Although I find the two compositions on this CD mismatched in terms of style and sonority, your taste may surely vary – and the concerto is well worth an audition by anyone with an ear inclined toward contemporary music. It would certainly be be nice for a number of you to step up an prove me wrong, for this release is a fine one.

Adam Abeshouse, R.I.P.

 by Karl Nehring

Less than a fortnight ago, I posted a bittersweet “Appreciation and Lament” column that reported on how a group of musicians had gathered in the studio of producer Adam Abeshouse to play for him one last time, for their dear friend was dying from cancer; this was their way of expressing their love and appreciation for his devotion both to his craft and to them. When I wrote that post, which you can find here or in the column to the left, I had no idea that his death would come so soon; sadly, however, Mr. Abeshouse passed away on October 10. Not only has the classical music world lost a great producer and engineer, but we have lost a great human being. You can get a sense of the regard in which he was held in the musical world from this NPR article that announced his death (to be found here). Another perspective on the man can be found in this obituary from the Jewish Telegraph Agency. Finally, there is an obituary (which you can find here) that contains a link to one of those “movies” that are sometimes assembled as tributes to those who have passed away. Consisting of a series of photographs accompanied by a musical soundtrack, these photos give us a sense of the person’s life. In the case of Adam Abeshouse, there are many, many photos – the movie lasts for a good 45 minutes, and is utterly fascinating. Even if you have never heard of the man, you will wind up loving him. 

Please allow me to close with a suggestion. The next time you plan to listen to some music, type “Abeshouse” into the Classical Candor search box to the left of this post and scroll through the many recordings that pop up. Find one that suits your mood, then give it a listen in honor of our fellow human being who was taken from us far too early.  

Brad Mehldau: Formation (Book Review)

by Karl Nehring

Brad Mehldau: Formation: Building a Personal Canon, Part One. Equinox Publishing Ltd., Sheffield, UK/Bristol, CT. 2023. 293 pp.

 

The American pianist Brad Mehldau (b. 1970) is best known for his work in the jazz arena, perhaps most widely as the leader of his own trio, but also for his work with other prominent jazz musicians such as guitarist Pat Metheny and saxophonist Josh Redman. If you really want to hear some peak jazz Mehldau, a good place to start would be his “The Art of the Trio” albums from the 1990s, especially The Art of the Trio III – Songs, which is a captivating listening experience from start to finish, but very hard to find these days, alas, so you might try Vol. IV, Back at the Vanguard, which is also excellent. However, Mehldau’s musical interests are not restricted to jazz alone. For example, he has composed songs and performed recitals with classical singers such as Renee Fleming, Anne Sofie von Otter, and Ian Bostridge. Other examples of his wide musical interests and talents include an album titled Taming the Dragon, on which he plays a variety of electronic synthesizers while paired with drummer/percussionist Mark Giuliana, and an album in which he performs what is essentially a classical piano concerto of his own composition, accompanied by the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra. Our review of that album, titled Variations on a Melancholy Theme, can be found here. Among the other albums of his that we have reviewed previously are the classically-oriented After Bach II (reviewed here) and Après Fauré (reviewed here).

 

His aptly titled musical autobiography Formation: Building a Personal Canon, Part One offers a remarkably – at times shockingly – candid look at the forces and influences that shaped his musical and personal development. “Part One” signifies that in this volume, Mehldau covers how his personal musical canon came to be formed, or as he puts it in his preface, “how that process played out in tandem with my development as a jazz musician throughout the first twenty-six years of my life. In a second book that is underway, I will focus more directly on the canon itself.” Some of the personal details that Mehldau reveals are on the sordid side. As he explains, “there are detailed descriptions of drug and alcohol abuse in this book. I want to stress that although I describe the pleasure of using them, I hope I will have shown that they were a mistaken path, one that injured me and almost took my life. They are a part of my story. I do not know why I survived when close friends of mine did not. Perhaps because of this, I feel an obligation to tell that story honestly. Drugs and alcohol were painkillers which only caused more pain, and I want to underline: they offered no insights musically, in the least.” 

 

As a child, Mehldau of course enjoyed the rock music of the time – Fleetwood Mac, Pink Floyd, Rush, Billy Joel – from the latter came his interest in the piano. His first exposure to classical music were a couple of cassettes the family had of Rudolf Serkin playing Beethoven – the 4^th and 5^th Piano Concertos with Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra plus another with him playing the “Moonlight,” Pathétique,” and “Appassionata” Sonatas. Later, he would go on to take piano lessons for a teacher who would introduce him to the classical repertoire, beginning with Bach, Beethoven, and Chopin, then soon moving on to Mozart, Brahms, and Bartók. “Brahms was my favorite and Bach pissed me off then – it was just too damn hard. There was just no place to hide. I came around eventually to Bach and he still provides endless edification and nothing short of spiritual nourishment. Beethoven was and is the model for a paradoxical creature, one with a certain willful inspiration. Brahms gives solace and consolation. The three Bs as they’re called – I’m a happy member of that cliché.”

 

Although the book will doubtless appeal more to the jazz fan than to the classical fan, there is much in its pages to appeal to both. To those with an academic background, I would suggest that you might find his discussion of Adorno to be of interest. It’s a fascinating discussion, covering jazz, swing, Brahms, Beethoven, capitalism, totalitarianism, upbeat, downbeat, Black music… all in a few pithy pages. Mehldau gets worked up, Adorno gets skewered, and bebop lives.

If you’re a jazz fan, you really ought to check this book out. Or if you are a classical fan with at least some interest in jazz, well, you might want to give it a look. It’s fascinating story.

Adam Abeshouse: An Appreciation and Lament

by Karl Nehring

While preparing my recent review of Intermezzo, clarinetist Seunghee Lee’s traversal of music by the Italian composer Michele Mangani, I discovered in reading the liner notes that seven of the tracks were edited, mixed, and mastered by Adam Abeshouse. His is a name that I am always glad to see listed on an new release, for Abeshouse is a top-flight engineer; in fact, I have mentioned his name in some of my past reviews (such as this one), acknowledging his role in bringing satisfying sound into my listening room. Looking back through the Classical Candor archives, I can also find Abehouse’s name mentioned numerous times by John Puccio, acknowledging the engineer’s production values (you cans see some examples of John’s reviews here, here, and here).

Imagine, then, the shock and sadness I felt when I came across a link to an NPR story a few days ago about how a group of musicians -- including such well-known figures as Jeremy Denk, Joshua Bell, Garrick Ohlsson, and Simone Dinnerstein – had recently gathered to play for Abeshouse, who has been diagnosed with cancer and whose time on earth is drawing to a close. It is at once heartbreaking to learn of the plight of Mr. Abeshouse, yet at the same time it is heartwarming to witness the love and devotion these musicians have for their dear colleague and friend. 

We at Classical Candor wish to express our appreciation to Mr. Abeshouse for his outstanding service to music, musicians, and music listeners over these many years. We also want to express our lament and regret that his career – and his very life – has been cut short by this cruel, unexpected disease. We also wish to express our admiration and appreciation for those musicians who made the effort to show their love and appreciation for their beloved producer by gathering in his honor to play for him one final time. In the words of the late sage David Crosby, “everybody’s saying ‘music is love’…”

You can find the NPR story here.