Prokofiev - String Quartet nr. 2

Prokofiev's Second String Quartet, op. 92, was composed in the fall of 1941, the Soviet Union's nadir in the Second World War. But for Prokofiev it was not a bad time at all. He was shipped out of Moscow with some of his fellow composers and accompanied by his new partner, Mira Mendelssohn, half his age. His wife, Lina, and children stayed behind in besieged Moscow. They travelled to Nalchik in the foothills of the Caucasus, then to Tbilisi and onwards to Alma Ata in Kazachstan. Whilst they sometimes had to make do with precarious material circumstances, the living was generally good and the exotic locales stimulating. For Prokofiev it was a period of amazing creative impetus in which he wrote, amongst other things, the first version of his War and Peace and the film music to Ivan The Terrible. He also finished the Seventh Sonata. The Second Quartet was written during the first stage of their nomadic existence, in Nalchik. In it, Prokofiev relies heavily on lokal folk music (hence it has been labeled 'On Kabardinian Themes').

I hadn't heard this work before. Whilst the First Quartet has the reputation of being more 'abstract' and polyphonic, I find the Second to be skillfully evading the trap of cheap exoticism. I don't have the impression that Prokofiev was reaching in his second drawer here. At least in the performance of the St Peterburg Quartet the music has genuine fiber. The second movement is a carefree and sweet but also deeply felt Adagio, almost with the character of a serenade, a Ständchen in which the mature composer revels in his newfound love. But there is also something of the eery silence that seems to pervade these foreign territories. I also like the motoric drive of the final Allegro and its weird cadenza-like sections for the lead violin and the cello. I am definitely interested in listening to an alternative version (as the Auroras on Naxos do not really come into play), preferably of the Haas.

Shostakovich - Symphony nr. 2 'To October'

As I was so impressed by the Kitajenko/Gürzenich recordings of the Prokofiev symphonies, I was very curious to hear what this partnership might do with the Shostakovich cycle. JPC offered the 14 SACD box for less than 30 euros. A no brainer. Even if there was only a single symphony that had the qualities of the Prokofiev Sixth, it would be money well spent.

The set antedates the Prokofiev. All symphonies were taped between 2002 and 2004, either live in the Philharmonie or on location at the Studio Stolberger in Cologne. The recordings have been mastered as SACDs rather than the conventional CD format in case of the Prokofiev.

I don't have the intention to jump into a full Shostakovich cycle so only wanted to sample one of the shorter works. Inevitably one ends up with one of the strange, early works. It has been ages since I listened to the Second. Not a great work by any standards but now that I relistened to it it struck me how seminal it is for what was to follow. One can easily hear how the Fourth would soon spring from this musical imagination. There are also hints of the darker lyricism that would be so prominent in the Fifth and even Tenth Symphony.

I was, however, very unhappy to hear that sonically these recordings are no match for the Prokofiev set. Indeed, there is the impression of a slightly more finely contoured and finely grained sound (higher resolution) and there is an admirable sense of space. It is very easy to pinpoint all the desks in the orchestra. That in itself is very good and pleasing. But this seems to come at a price of a more generic, disembodied sound. Gone is the juicy and effortless luxuriance of the Prokofiev. Gone is also that sense of realism and 'being there' that puts you as a listener literally on edge. I am seeing the desks but I'm missing the faces! It's very disappointing. I'm also fearing for Kitajenko's readings now which tend to be somewhat more relaxed. With this kind of generic digital sound we might lose our interest much more rapidly ... I sampled some snippets from the live recordings too and it seems the problem persists across the whole set. Oh well, we'll see ...

Prokofiev - String Quartet nr. 1

Prokofiev's String Quartet nr. 1, op. 50, hails from 1930, very much the same period of the Fourth Symphony which I listened to earlier. Stylistically it's a transitional period between the expressionistic excesses of the Twenties and the New Simplicity he would further develop in the Soviet Union. The Quartet was composed in response to a commission of the US Library of Congress. Prokofiev has not made a big contribution to the quartet repertoire. There are only two. Which is a pity. I can't see why he wouldn't have been able to write a more substantial body of work, even when it was dramatic instinct and melodic invention rather than architectural profundity that governed most of his output. But maybe that territory was already claimed by Shostakovich (although he started late).

In preparing for the First Quartet Prokofiev closely studied Beethoven's examples. And that is reflected in the classically poised construction and the clear contours of the work. In a way Prokofiev returns to the pungy kind of neo-classicism that made his First Symphony such a success. If it sounds Beethovenian, then it's more akin to the op. 18 than the middle or late quartets. So maybe its better to call it Haydnesque. The fast tempos that dominate the first two movements reinforce the impression of youthfulness. All in all it's a pleasant work to listen to: not very challenging but breezy and spicy. Clearly not in the Bartok class, but then that would likely be an unfair comparison.

I have two versions in my collection. First a 1994 recording by the Aurora String Quartet on Naxos. These are members of the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra. This version didn't appeal to me on account of its limited sonic qualities (annoyingly resonant acoustics, glassy highs, lack of space). The playing seems at times a little scrawny to me as well. The reading by the St Petersburg Quartet on Delos (recorded 1999) is a good deal more successful, both as an interpretation and as a recording. I particularly liked the athletic Andante molto here. Still, I have the impression that none of these quartets realises the full potential of this work. I'm now going to try to find the more recent recording of the young Pavel Haas Quartet, which was released to considerable acclaim.

Prokofiev - Symphony nr. 6

That Prokofiev Sixth with Kitajenko really hit me between the eyes! That glorious music has hardly been out of my mind this week. I have relistened to it, albeit only in parts. It's a genuine treat and certainly one of the most impressive symphonic recordings I have heard in a long time. Kitajenko's vision on the score does not impose itself as 'definitive' but in combination with the very high level of playing by the orchestra and the absolutely stupendous sonics it makes for a great listening experience. It's almost psychedelically colourful, like watching a giant Kandinsky painting rotating before one's mind's eye. This is the kind of rapture that I experienced more often, it seems, as a young, inexperienced listener in my early twenties than I do today. It's nice to be able to revisit that experience.

Wild Beasts - Smother

I picked this one up whilst I was browsing the shelves at the Bozar shop in Brussels. The shop assistant had put it on the speakers. Didn't know it. Never heard of the Wild Beasts. It appears to be a British band that has been making some waves over the last 3-4 years. Smother is their last album, issued just a few weeks ago. I haven't listened to it very carefully but it looks like a very good catch. Reminds me a little of Prefab Sprout, in its melodic invention and use of synths. The lead singer's falsetto also connects to Paddy McAloone's voice. The other association is with Muse's Matthew Bellamy. Wild Beasts have two front men, in fact: Hayden Thorpe (the falsetto, also on guitar) and Tom Fleming (a more husky voice, on bass). The latter at times sounds uncannily like Elbow's Guy Garvey (see the third track, Deeper).

What has particularly attracted me in these first few auditions is the finale, consisting of three tracks - Reach a Bit Further, Burning, End Come to Soon - which nicely fit together (also thematically, from a certain angle, if you consider the three titles in succession). The first is a fairly short and bubbly track propelled forward by an irresistible beat. Burning moves somewhat in ambient territory and makes the connection with Prefab Sprout quite obvious. The final track is a brilliant 7 minute epic (relatively speaking) that traverses different vistas (even some Dark Side of the Moon reminiscences) and evokes disquiet and anticipation. Goosepimples! It's all that pop music needs to be.

Finally, the album is excellently recorded (an exception with pop albums these days): it's genuinely dynamic and for once doesn't smother the richness of the voices and acoustic instruments involved.

Frank Nuyts - Middle East/Barber - Knoxville, Summer of 1915

I went to the Vlaamse Opera in Gent yesterday to attend a performance of a new work by Frank Nuyts. Nuyts is a percussionist and composer who teaches at the Hogeschool in Gent. He has a reputation for being an interesting, prolific and eclectic composer.  I had never heard any of his works before, however. This was the second performance of his 'chamber opera' Middle-East (the premiere was on Thursday), a collaboration with writer Philippe Blasband for the libretto and director Johan Dehollander for the staging. Rather than an opera I would call the work a 'scena'. It's a one hour work, without breaks. The vocal score is almost exclusively given to a single soprano who sings both Barak's and Arafat's parts which are often indistinguishable. And there is no real action or dramatic development at the heart of the piece. The work revolves around the failed Camp David talks in 2000 between Ehud Barak and Yasser Arafat. It's about the impossibility of these two protagonists to establish a genuine communication as they remain enclosed in their ideological and linguistic cocoons. All this leads me to consider Middle East as an extended meditation on a situation, or a predicament. It's a little more complicated as there is also an actor involved, who messes around on the scene and also sings a few lines. In addition text and some images are projected. So, all in all it's a complicated challenge for the listener.

I was primarily interested in the music. It seems Nuyts has made quite a journey from his post-serial beginnings. I was surprised how accessible and atmospheric ('stemmig') the music was. It's unabashedly tonal, not even particularly dissonant or dense. It doesn't try to show off with pyrotechnics either. So it struck me as eminently listenable and approachable. The French refer to a wine that is well made and pleases the amateur not with depth, terroir and complexity but with feminine grace and voluptuous fruitiness a 'vin flatteur'. In that sense we could consider Nuyts' score as 'flattering' too. Likely this has been the composer's intention as he discusses in the programme brochure. For him this work is not about conflict but about beauty. Indeed, Blasband's libretto summons the heady perfumes of a youth spent - by both protagonists - in mysterious Jerusalem, the eternal city. It is their experience of the beauty of the city and surrounding Palestine that explains a lot about the intransigency of their positions. Nuyts: "Hence, some sort of sweetness percolates through the music which hangs as a cloud above the negotiation table". Stylistically I couldn't detect obvious fingerprints of other composers, apart from an occasional nod to American minimalism and a hint of Copland. However, the one piece that came to my mind whilst listening to Middle East was Barber's Knoxville, Summer of 1915. The idiom and setting are different, to be sure, but Barber's mellifluous soliloquy for soprano is also steeped in this kind sweetness (without becoming saccharine, however). Today I listened to the excellent version sung by Dawn Upshaw and supported by Zinman's St. Luke's Orchestra (on a Nonesuch disc) and I still think there is a certain correspondence between the two works. Still, I think I would have liked a little more counterpoint and 'durchkomponiertes' fabric in Nuyts' score.

That being said, I thougth the performance itself by the Spectra Ensemble (piano, quartet, percussionist, flute, clarinet) was not very commendable. This may be due to a combination of factors. As it was only the second performance, they likely need to grow into the music. Furthermore, the ensemble was placed in the back, fairly removed from the audience. And the persistent hum of the projectors didn't help in clearly and forcefully presenting the music. Altogether, I thought the ensemble sounded too tentative and did not bring enough conviction to the score.

I am not at all sure about what to make of the work as a whole. For me it is very much a question of 'prima la musica, poi le parole'. When I listen to an opera - which I'm not doing very often - I'm listening to absolute music. Mostly I don't even bother with the libretto. Strangely, whilst in my professional life I'm always struggling with conceptual and social complexity, in music I seem to avoid it. When listening to music I'm interested in structural, architectural complexity, in the intricacies of 'tönend bewegte Formen'. It's similar to photography, where mostly I'm interested in the pictures as pictures, not in the often flaccid stories behind them. So, whilst this Arafat-Barak conundrum interests me from a professional point of view, I'm having difficulties in making the transition from the world of sounds to the world of ideas, and vice versa.

The work is scheduled for performance in Stuk Leuven later this year and I will certainly try to go there for a second audition.

Prokofiev - Symphony nr. 6

Today Prokofiev's biggest symphony was on the menu. His Sixth (op. 111, from 1947) is a work that has been inexplicably neglected. It's a grand work that, for Prokofiev, sounds uncommonly confessional. With the Eighth Sonata it represents the composer at the very peak of his capabilities. For me it belongs to the category of Shostakovich's Fourth and Schnittke's Fifth: tough, tragic and abrasive works conceived on the grand scale (Shosta's Tenth is a case apart, IMHO one of the very best symphonies ever written). The Sixth is extraordinary: 3 massive, tightly knit movements in the weird key of E flat minor, a combination of marvelous songfulness and anguished chromaticism (those Parsifal references!), the extreme contrasts in orchestration (soaring violins and trumpets battling growling percussion and brooding, low brass). The effect is one of overpowering monumentality and doom. The finale is jaunty as Shostakovich's finales are jaunty ("your business is rejoicing, your business is rejoicing"). However apolitial and egocentric Prokofiev might have been, he must have been psychologically affected by the Stalinist Terror of the Thirties and the carnage of the war. This was, after all, suffering on a scale unseen. I scarcely can believe that Prokofiev's sullen mood was inspired by only his health problems (he suffered a concussion during a fall in 1945 as a result of persistent high blood pressure). One never knows. Shostakovich thought Prokofiev had 'the soul of a goose', meaning that he always wanted to make sure he was favoured by the establishment.

Anyway, I have always cherished the Järvi recording of this work (on Chandos). In line with his readings of the other symphonies, it is a volatile and strident reading with the SNO pushed to the limit. Tonight I listened to the more recent Kitajenko version, part of his complete cycle with the Gürzenich Orchestra. It's a live recording (Kölner Philharmonie) dating from 2007. Predictably, Kitajenko is significantly slower than Järvi (all in all he takes 4 minutes longer). But, as in the Fourth, the tempo is well judged and he manages to keep the pulse. Also the Gürzenich produces a much richer, luxuriant sound that shows off the impressionistic splendour of Prokofiev's pallette (I was reminded of Liadov's Enchanted Lake, something I haven't heard for thirty years). The recording is demonstration quality, with fantastic microdetail across the whole spectrum and impressive depth. The climaxes are shattering without, however, being aggressive as with the Chandos recording.

Compared to Järvi, the character of the music changes. As it has more opportunity to breathe, the melos and richness of orchestration are more in evidence. As a result the overall impression of doom is a little less overpowering. But Kitajenko presents a splendid edifice in glowing colours. Upbeat or victorious it certainly does not sound. I wouldn't like to miss the Järvi but the Kitajenko is a very valuable addition to the collection to which I will eagerly return.