Антология русской симфонической музыки.Том 1 / Anthology Of Russian Symphonic Music Volume I [56 CD] (2017)

Фирма «Мелодия» представляет юбилейную лимитированную коллекцию записей оркестровых сочинений русских композиторов XIX и XX веков – первую часть «Антологии русской симфонической музыки».

Глинка, Даргомыжский, Балакирев, Мусоргский, Бородин, Римский-Корсаков, Чайковский, Танеев, Лядов, Калинников, Аренский, Ляпунов, Метнер… Первый из трех масштабных комплектов «Антологии» включает в себя произведения русских композиторов в хронологическом порядке (55 дисков). В качестве «бонус-диска» предлагается запись фортепианных сочинений Николая Метнера в исполнении Евгения Светланова.

В течение одного столетия музыкальное искусство России прошло колоссальную эволюцию, и благодаря «Антологии» слушатель получает возможность охватить этот яркий и стремительный путь.

Большая часть записей была осуществлена Госоркестром СССР под управлением Евгения Светланова. В концертном сезоне 2016/2017 знаменитый оркестр, носящий имя Светланова, отмечает свой 80-летний юбилей.

Евгений Светланов – дирижер, композитор, пианист, музыкант-подвижник – работал над созданием «Антологии» более 25 лет. Еще с ранней юности Светланов был одержим идеей вернуть из небытия малоизвестные, забытые страницы русской музыки; постепенно это стремление выросло в идею «Антологии». Работа над ней длилась около 30 лет, замысел дирижера – представить полную картину русского музыкального искусства полутора столетий от Глинки до Рахманинова – был блестяще реализован.

Фирма «Мелодия» расширяет временные границы, заданные в «Антологии» Светланова. Осенью 2017 года ожидается выход второго комплекта «Антологии» с полным собранием оркестровой музыки Глазунова, сочинениями Рахманинова и Скрябина, 14 симфониями Мясковского, записями классиков советской музыки – Шостаковича, Прокофьева, Хачатуряна, а также избранными сочинениями отечественных композиторов ХХ столетия (Щедрина, Эшпая, Хренникова, Вайнберга, Глиэра, Ан. Александрова, Галынина, Компанейца, Р. Бойко), большинство из которых публикуются впервые.

Первый бокс «Антологии» представляет собой кашированную коробку из твердого картона с крышкой. Издание содержит буклет в твердом переплете на четырех языках (русском, английском, французском, немецком) с иллюстрациями обложек оригинальных пластинок.

“Like an oak grows out of  an acorn, the  entire Russian symphonic music

sprang from Glinka’s ‘Kamarinskaya’,” wrote Pyotr Tchaikovsky. Mikhail

Glinka, the  founder of  the Russian national composing school, loved

orchestra from an early age and preferred symphonic music to any other

(the future composer’s uncle lived not far away from his family estate

of  Novospasskoye and owned a  serf orchestra). Glinka’s first attempts

in orchestral music date back to the first half of the 1820s. They show that

the young composer was already far from orchestrating popular songs and

dances in the mould of “banal music” of the time. Instead, he was guided

by the best examples of high classicism seeking to master the form of overture

and symphony with the use of folklore song material. Those experiments,

many of  which remained unfinished, were just training sketches

to Glinka, but played an important role in shaping of his composing style.

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In the overtures and ballet fragments from his operas A Life for the Tsar (1836)

and Ruslan and Ludmila (1842), Glinka demonstrates his excellent orchestral

writing skills. The overture to Ruslan and Ludmila is particularly characteristic

in this regard: truly Mozartian dynamism and a “sunny” joyous

tone (according to the composer, it “comes with a wet sail”) are combined

with a most intense motive and subject development. As it was the case

with the Oriental Dances from the fourth act, it became a bright concert

number. However, Glinka only turned to genuine symphonic work during

the last decade of his life.

After a  long journey to  France and Spain, where he had a  chance

to  acquaint in  detail with Berlioz’s works and inquire into the  matter

of  Spanish folklore, Glinka collected plenty of  material for his creative

work and, at  the same time, found endorsement of  his intuitive search

for freedom of orchestral thinking. The composer returned to Russia with

sketches of  two “Spanish overtures,” but Kamarinskaya (1848) subtitled

“Fantasy on Two Russian Themes, a Wedding One and a Dance One” was his

first complete piece. The idea of bringing together two opposite popular

themes through their alternating variational development spilt over into

a sort of orchestral scherzo is fairly considered a foundation of the Russian

classical school. It was followed by  the Capriccio Brilliante on the  Jota

Aragonesa and Souvenir d’une nuit d’été à Madrid, symphonic pieces which

combine a vivid nature of dance elements with classical perfection of the

form. In his last years, Glinka created a final orchestral version of WaltzFantasia

(1856) transforming an artless piano piece into a lyrical poem for

orchestra.

Alexander Dargomyzhsky was a  younger contemporary and follower

of Glinka in the matters of formation and development of Russian

professional music culture. He met the author of A Life for the Tsar at a

rehearsal. Having noted the young man’s outstanding musical capabilities,

Glinka gave him his notebooks with music exercises he had worked on

with German theorist Siegfried Dehn. Dargomyzhsky is primarily known

as an opera and vocal composer. In the meantime, his orchestral works

depict his composing individuality in their own way. In the late 1830s,

he wrote the  symphonic piece Bolero and was the  first Russian composer

to  address the  Spanish theme. However, Dargomyzhsky showed

a true interest in the symphonic genre during his last years, not without

influence of  his younger associates from the  Balakirev Circle. His

Finnish Fantasia (1863–67), Baba Yaga, or from the Volga nach Riga (1862)

and Fantasia on the Theme of the Ukrainian Kazachok (1864) are character

genre sketches based on folklore material. Kazachok with its broad

humour and rich Ukrainian flair enjoyed the widest popularity.

The second half of the 19th century brought some cardinal changes

to  the life and culture of  Russia. The  emerging professional music

educational establishments, the  shaping of  regular concert life

in  St.  Petersburg and Moscow (and later in  the other big cities of  the

Russian Empire), the  return of  Russian operas to  theatre stages  – all

that was a reason for a broad public interest in music art in general as it

no longer was the  preserve of  the blue-blooded dilettantes. The  mid

1860s can be referred to as the birth of the Russian symphonic genre –

the premieres of the first operas by Rimsky-Korsakov, Tchaikovsky and

Borodin took place between 1865 and 1867. The  new conditions for

the existence of music in Russia emerged in no small measure thanks

to  the activities of  the enthusiasts and devotees. Mily Balakirev was

among them.

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The outstanding composer, pianist, conductor and educator, he was

one of the rare examples of a self-taught person who achieved everything

by  way of  patient labour and extensive self-education. After he came

to Moscow in the early 1850s, he was introduced to Glinka who passed him

the unused Spanish folk themes (they were a material for one of Balakirev’s

first orchestra pieces Overture on the Themes of  Spanish March,  1857).

The  Overture on the Themes of  Three Russian Songs he finished in  1858

continued the tradition of his great predecessor and received great critical

acclaim. In the years to come, Balakirev continued to work on the genre

of one-movement overture, wrote music for the first Russian production

of Shakespeare’s King  Lear (1861) and at the same time was an active educational

worker – he founded the Free School of Music where symphonic

concerts were held on a regular basis and brought together a group of likeminded

young composers (thanks to critic Vladimir Stasov’s good graces,

their circle was named “a mighty handful,” but they eventually became

better known in English as The Five) that comprised a whole constellation

of  the prominent representatives of  Russian music art. The  piano piece

Islamey (1869, arranged for orchestra by Sergei Lyapunov, one of Balakirev’s

friends and pupils) was a culmination of the composer’s work in the 1860s.

However, the generosity with which he gave away his ideas and concepts

to younger fellow composers unwittingly took a toll on his own work – he

was only able to realize his largest orchestral ideas – Symphony No. 1 and

the symphonic poem Tamara – two decades later.

After a  ten-year crisis, Balakirev resumed his versatile creative activities

in the early 1880s and continued to do so until the last years of his

life. Without undergoing any stylistic evolutions, Balakirev’s late compositions

preserved the freshness of melodic inventiveness, their picturesque

orchestral style and reverentially vivid sensation of folklore.

One of the best 19th century pianists, composer, conductor and teacher

Anton Rubinstein was also one of  the greatest contributors to  Russian

music culture. Rubinstein spent his early years in Western Europe. On his

return to Russia his music educational activities grew up to the scale that

crucially changed the  position of  music art in  this country. Rubinstein

initiated the  establishment of  the Russian Musical Society (RMS) with

branches in Moscow and St. Petersburg with the intent to arrange concerts

on a  regular basis. In 1862, the  first Russian conservatory was founded

in  St.  Petersburg (Anton Rubinstein’s younger brother Nikolai opened

the  Moscow Conservatory four years later). Not every piece from Anton

Rubinstein’s vast heritage that comprises over 600 works in various genres

has stood the  test of  time. His composing individuality is probably most

strongly pronounced in his piano, chamber and orchestra miniatures.

Eduard Nápravník was a  Czech who lived in  Russia most of  his life.

He was the  principal conductor of  the Mariinsky Theatre for about fifty

years between 1869 and 1916. There he conducted the premieres of operas

by  Dargomyzhsky, Rubinstein, Serov, Borodin, Mussorgsky, RimskyKorsakov

and Tchaikovsky and was always admired for his high professionalism

and utmost care as he worked on music. The opera Dubrovsky (1894)

based on Pushkin’s novel and written in  the tradition of  lyrical music

theatre was Nápravník’s most popular work.

“What a man and a talent he was!” spoke Rimsky-Korsakov about Alexander

Borodin. A composer and chemical scientist in  one, he took up a  professorial

chair at  the Imperial Medical-Surgical Academy in  St.  Petersburg

for over twenty years and established the  first Russian medical courses

for women. To his friends’ great regret, he only spent rare free hours on

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music. Considering himself a “natural born lyricist and symphonist,” Borodin

became a founder of the epic branch of Russian symphonic music.

Borodin started to compose his Symphony No. 1 in the early 1860s when

he was tutored by Mily Balakirev (by the time he had passed Ph.D. defense

and was an author of a number of chamber instrumental works). The premiere

of the symphony took place in 1869 with Balakirev behind the conductor’s

stand was a  significant event not just for its author but also for

The Five in general (Franz Liszt gave it a glowing account overseas).

The Symphony No. 2, later nicknamed “Bogatyrskaya” (“Heroic”) was

the highest achievement of Borodin as a symphonist. Working on it between

1869 and 1876 concurrently with the opera Prince Igor, Borodin realized epic

characters of Russian folklore in the form of sonata-symphonic cycle (according

to Vladimir Stasov, the first movement depicts an assembly of Russian

epical heroes, the third one is a song of the Slavic minstrel Boyan, and the finale

is a scene of great celebration with a feast and dances). The Polovtsian Dances

with chorus, one of the climaxes of the opera frequently performed as a symphonic

number, continue the line of the Oriental Dances from Glinka’s Ruslan

and Ludmila. The  symphonic tableau In the Steppes of Central Asia (1880)

composed for the cancelled festive performance to celebrate the silver anniversary

of the reign of Alexander II of Russia was built on the idea of synthesis

of a Russian melody and an oriental one. The Symphony No. 3 (1887)

Borodin worked on during the last months of his life is peculiar for its lyrical

colouring that was new to the composer. He did not put it down on paper, but

Alexander Glazunov’s phenomenal memory preserved the music of the first

two movements (Glazunov restored much of what Borodin did not finish; so,

he actually composed the overture to Prince Igor on the basis of the material

of the opera’s thematic invention). Glazunov also orchestrated the Petite

Suite for piano (1885), one of Borodin’s last works.

“Towards new shores of the still boundless art!” was Modest Mussorgsky’s

artistic creed. Many years went by  before the  public acknowledged his

truly pioneering aspirations. Convinced of the fact that “artistic truth does

not tolerate preconceived forms,” Mussorgsky realized “life wherever it may

be, the truth no matter how bitter it may be” which often frightened off even

his friends musicians, including his tutor Mily Balakirev.

Unlike his fellows from The  Five, Mussorgsky did not show interest

in  the genres of  conventional instrumental music (symphony, overture

and concerto). His orchestral Scherzo is a sort of a test of the young composer’s

pen in  symphonic music written in  the period of  his intensive

studies with Balakirev (1858); the humorous Intermezzo in modo classico

dedicated to  Borodin who preferred classical forms was composed nine

years later. Also in 1867, Mussorgsky finished his most peculiar orchestral

piece – Night on Bald Mountain. Inspired by the final movement (Dream

of  the Night of  the Sabbath) of  Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique, it still

amazes with its daring orchestral and harmonic solutions born in the composer’s

inexhaustible imagination (Mussorgsky later on used it as a  finale

of  the second act of  the opera The  Fair at  Sorochyntsi). The  triumphal

march The Capture of Kars (1880) was composed for the same anniversary

celebration as Borodin’s In the Steppes of Central Asia. Mussorgsky’s piano

masterpiece Pictures at an Exhibition (1874) is still popular in its orchestral

version created by Maurice Ravel.

Mussorgsky’s unconventional timbre thinking was so  radical for

his contemporaries that it caused an opinion of  his “unskillfulness”

in orchestration for many decades to come. His operatic and orchestral

works were performed, as  a rule, in  Rimsky-Korsakov’s more effective

yet traditional versions up to the late 20th century. This is how they are

featured in this set.

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Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov went down in music history as Russia’s most

prominent operatic composer (he wrote fifteen operas). There was hardly

another composer among his contemporaries who was as masterful at the

art of  orchestration, as  perceptive to  colours of  the instrumental groups

and as knowledgeable about the nature and specifics of the sound of each

instrument. Possessing the  so-called colour hearing by  nature, when

the sound of every key is associated with a certain colour gamut, RimskyKorsakov

did not separate “orchestration” from the process of composing;

a musical image emerged in his mind as a complete set of timbres.

When he started his in-depth study of  composition with Balakirev

in the early 1860s, Rimsky-Korsakov immediately settled down to write his

Symphony No. 1. The work was interrupted with a world cruise that RimskyKorsakov

as a cadet of the Naval College had to complete to become an officer

(the composer’s fantasy will be repeatedly inspired by  scenes of  seascape).

The  symphony was performed by  Balakirev in  1865. Although not entirely

unassisted stylistically, it was marked with bright national colours and

demonstrated confident proficiency in symphonic form. His second symphony

Antar (1868) after a tale by Osip Senkovsky became a big step in the artistic

formation of the young composer. Renamed a “symphonic suite” later on, it

captured Rimsky-Korsakov’s interest in literary and narrative programmes.

In the same years, Rimsky-Korsakov was active in the genre of one-movement

orchestral works (Tchaikovsky admired his Fantasia on Serbian Themes,

but the  musical tableau Sadko became an even more outstanding example

(both written in  1867), the  music of  which was included in  the opera

of the same name). The Symphony No. 3 (1872–73) is in a league of its own.

Rimsky-Korsakov wrote it during a transition period after he realized certain

one-sidedness of his progress and started to independently grasp a new phase

of composing craft. This explains the known “academic” dryness of the work.

The culmination period of Rimsky-Korsakov’s symphonic oeuvre falls

on the 1880s. Now having orchestral colours at his fingertips, he turned

to  Russian, Oriental and European folklore, unveiling its most characteristic

traits like Glinka did and creating genre, landscape and fantastic

pictures using the  method of  “generalized” programme. Contrasting

scenes and images come and go, but at  the discretion of  the composer

they become consistent in  the listener’s perception. Rimsky-Korsakov

highest symphonic accomplishments were Capriccio espagnol (1887) and

the universally popular Scheherazade (1888), a symphonic suite based on

One Thousand and One Nights, where the composer removed the original

detailed programme not to limit the listener’s imagination – everyone is

free to fancy which of the tales Scheherazade had to tell to soften the king’s

hard heart.

The role that the  orchestral component plays in  Rimsky-Korsakov’s

operas can hardly be overestimated. The  composer used the  method

of branched system of leitmotifs in his own way, but it is the orchestra that

often makes his characters complete, creates a  landscape or emotional

background for the action, and supplements the solo, ensemble and choral

numbers with subtle characteristic details. A series of overtures, entr’actes

and symphonic fragments are frequently performed at concerts (the overture

to The Tsar’s Bride, The Blue Ocean Sea from Sadko, Procession of Tsar

Berendei and Dance of  the Skomorokhs from The  Snow Maiden, Procession

of the Nobles from Mlada, Flight of the Bumblebee and Three Wonders from

The  Tale of  Tsar Saltan, The  Battle at  Kerzhents from The  Legend of  the

Invisible City of Kitezh, and many others). As a rule, the composer compiled

the  suites for concert performances from fragments of  his operas (with

the exception of the suite from The Golden Cockerel which was completed

by his pupil Maximilian Steinberg).

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“With all my heart I would hope that my music may spread far so that there

are more who love it and find consolation and encouragement in it,” wrote

Pyotr Tchaikovsky at the end of his life. The principles of symphonic and

theatrical dramatics are so  closely intertwined in  his music that some

of  the pages from his symphonies and overtures conjure up bright and

vital images – everyday life and genre scenes, as well as landscapes create

complete emotional portraits of the characters. Tchaikovsky’s operas and

ballets, on the contrary, often develop by the laws of symphonic dramaturgy.

Tchaikovsky, one of the greatest symphonists of the 20th century,

significantly contributed to  the development of  actually all orchestral

genres of his time, paying an equal debt to both programme and “purely”

instrumental music. He consciously followed the conventional, classically

romantic line of symphonism, on which he built a personal model of lyrical

and dramatic symphony.

The Characteristic Dances, the first orchestral piece written by 25-year-old

Tchaikovsky, then a student of the St. Petersburg Conservatory with Anton

Rubinstein, was performed at one of Johann Strauss II’s summer concerts

at Pavlovsk (unfortunately, the sheet music was lost). When a student, he

also wrote The Storm (1864), and overture inspired by Alexander Ostrovsky’s

play of the same name. Having a freelance diploma, the composer was invited

to  teach at  the just founded Moscow Conservatory. The  beginning of  the

Moscow period in his life and career was marked with the Symphony No. 1,

Winter Daydreams (1866–68) that essentially revealed the  composer’s

creative capabilities. The landscapes and genre tableaux typical of Russian

perception of  the winter season (from the  troika tearing along a  winter

road in the first movement to the Pancake Week revelry in the finale) are

depicted in bright emotional colours here. In 1869 (finally edited in 1880),

Tchaikovsky wrote the overture-fantasy Romeo and Juliet where he managed

to  render the  major driving forces of  Shakespeare’s tragedy  – love and

feud. In the  first half of  the 1870s, the  composer continued his creative

pursuit both in the conventional symphonic form (Symphony No. 2 (1872)

based on Russian and Ukrainian folklore, a sort of an artistic dialogue with

the members of Balakirev’s circle; Symphony No. 3 of five movements (1875)

inclined to  the principle of  suite, closer to  the West European model

of  the “Leipzig” school), and in  one-movement programme genres,

the symphonic fantasias The Tempest (1873) and Francesca da Rimini (1876).

The Symphony  No. 4 (1877), along with the  opera Eugene Onegin, became

a  climax of  the Moscow period. It was dedicated to  his “best friend” (the

composer meant his patroness Nadezhda von Meck whose help enabled him

to entirely give himself up to composing). In a letter to her, he described

the hidden programme of the symphony in detail that was based on tragic

doom of a human person in front of Fatum.

In the first half of the 1880s, Tchaikovsky intensely worked on the genre

of  orchestral suite. In the  same period he wrote the Serenade for String

Orchestra (1880), a peculiar example of “neoclassicism” in Tchaikovsky’s

oeuvre. The  tradition of  Glinka’s symphonic pieces was continued with

the Capriccio italien (1880). The Year 1812 (1880) was written for the consecration

of the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour. The idea of the symphony

Manfred (1885) based on Lord Byron’s poem was prompted by Balakirev.

It became a  culmination of  the programme branch of  the composer’s

symphony music (in 1890–91, he wrote The Voyevoda, a symphonic ballad

based on Alexander Pushkin’s translation of Adam Mickiewicz’s poem

of  the same name; the  composer destroyed it, but it was reconstructed

by Taneyev after Tchaikovsky’s death).

The Symphony No. 5 (1888) was a new reading of the “Man and Fatum”

subject  – the  image that appears as  a funeral march in  the beginning

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of  the symphony invades the  subsequent movements and produces an

impression of  fatal interference; however, its triumphal and solemn

sounds in the final movement make a dual impression and imply different

interpretations. The  concept of  the programme symphony Life, which,

according to Tchaikovsky, was supposed to complete his career, remained

unrealized. The  Symphony No. 6, Pathétique (1893) was one of  the

composer’s last works. Tchaikovsky thought it was close to  the genre

of requiem. The theme of the unannounced programme was “Man in the

face of Death.” The unusual structure of the symphony with a slow finale

filled with deep sorrow in the conclusion left the audience perplexed at the

premiere that took place ten days before the composer’s death. Many years

passed before the Pathétique Symphony was judged on its merits as  one

of the summits of world symphony music.

“I completely fail to  understand what you call ballet music and why you

won’t accept it. I totally fail to understand how the expression “ballet music”

can be something disapproving.” These lines from Tchaikovsky’s letter

to  Sergei Taneyev, who reproached the  former for excessive ballet-ism

of his Fourth Symphony, demonstrate Tchaikovsky’s attitude to this form

of  art. He decisively rejected the  notion of  a secondary, “service” role

of music in ballets that was a common place belief both among ballet lovers

and serious musicians who thought it was only intended for convenience

of dancing and “pleasant entertainment” of the audience.

Tchaikovsky confirmed the  correctness of  his words with three brilliant

ballets. They have been permanent features on the  world’s stages

for more than a  hundred years now, inspiring different, at  times opposite

choreographic interpretations. But there is one thing that remains

unchanged – Tchaikovsky’s music, “ballet-ready” through and through,

filled with dance element and at the same time truly symphonic. In terms

of musical dramatics and depth of characters, it outclassed not just ordinary

“authors of ballet music,” but also truly talented ballet composers

of his time.

The destiny of  the ballet Swan Lake was complicated. Tchaikovsky

worked on his “ballet debut” with ardour and seriousness, but its premiere

in 1877 did not enthuse the audience. It only won the recognition after

the composer’s death.

“This is not only about slapping up some ballet music; I have the impudence

to  conceive a  ballet masterpiece,” Tchaikovsky wrote about his

second ballet. The  music of  The Sleeping Beauty (1889) was composed

in close collaboration with the great choreographer Marius Petipa. Such

an approach ensured an ideal blend of the music and choreographic components.

That was confirmed by its triumphal premiere at the Mariinsky

Theatre.

In the early 1890s, Tchaikovsky received a commission from the directorate

of the Imperial Theatres to compose a one-act opera and a one-act

ballet that would be presented on the same evening. While Tchaikovsky

decided on the plot of the opera (it was Iolanta) quite quickly, the script

of The Nutcracker raised a strong doubt at first. The music of the ballet was

finished in 1892. The suite compiled from its numbers was a raving success,

but the ballet itself shown at the Mariinsky Theatre in December that year

(choreography by Petipa) was met with mixed reviews. The Nutcracker, as a

multidimensional music and choreographic drama, was only discovered

in the 20th century.

“The period of  “Sturm und Drang” in  Russian music has changed into

a  calm forward movement,” as  Rimsky-Korsakov described the  composers

of  the next generation who emerged during the  last two decades

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of the 19th century. Two independent composing schools had taken shape

in St. Petersburg and Moscow (the former was led by Rimsky-Korsakov

who was the  most authoritative composition teacher, while the  latter

was best represented by  Tchaikovsky and Taneyev). However, no signs

of  rivalry or competition between the  two schools of  any kind were

observed. Quite the contrary, the cases of “creative exchange” were not

that rare, when a young composer who graduated from the St. Petersburg

Conservatory moved to Moscow and vice versa. The Belyayev Circle initiated

by Mitrofan Belyayev, a patron of arts, ardent lover of music and

music publisher, took the stand of The Five. However, the Belyayev Circle

lacked any “ideology” and consisted of  musicians with very different

artistic aspirations. Following the era of discoveries and intense exploration

(at times in  opposite directions), there came a  time for Russian

music to  accumulate and synthesize the  wealth and experience of  the

past generations. Their successors had a  propensity for objective and

holistic perception of  the world rather than direct confrontation. That

was one of  the reasons for their heightened interest in  the symphonic

and concerto genres.

“A great Russian musician whose work commands deep respect,” described

musicologist Boris Asafiev the  creative personality of  Sergei Taneyev.

An outstanding pianist, composer, music theorist and teacher, a  pupil

of Nikolai Rubinstein and Tchaikovsky, he became a successor of the latter

as a professor of the Moscow Conservatory (he had Sergei Rachmaninoff,

Alexander Scriabin, Sergei Lyapunov, Reinhold  Glière, Alexander

Grechaninov, Boleslav Yavorsky and many others among the  students

in his counterpoint and fugue class) and later was elected its director. He

was named “musical conscience of Moscow.” According to Rachmaninoff,

Taneyev’s friends and students thought of him as a “supreme judge who

possessed wisdom, justice, accessibility and simplicity as such,” as a “living

picture of the truth on Earth once denied by Pushkin’s Salieri.”

Taneyev’s keen interest in  polyphony, including renaissance music

of “strict style,” was not only reflected in his teaching activities and works

on music theory (“Convertible Counterpoint in the Strict Style,” “Doctrine

of Canon”), but also has a certain impact on his composing style. Taneyev

was so hard on himself as he never was on anyone else – he allowed publishing

of less than a half of his creative legacy during his lifetime.

So, his Symphony in C minor (1898, actually it was his fourth) remains

the only work in the genre that he saw fit for performance and publishing.

As a student of Spinoza’s philosophy, Taneyev thought that the symphonic

genre was a foundation of music arts that did not imply anything

accidental. A symphony develops in accordance with Beethoven’s model

“from dark to  light,” its inner dramatic conflict is pointedly objective

(this is what makes it crucially different from Tchaikovsky’s symphonic

dramaturgy); a triumphal apotheosis in the coda of the final movement is

perceived as a natural and logical outcome. Taneyev’s firm belief in original

harmony of the universe is apparent in his only opera Oresteia (1882–

94) based on Aeschylus’s tragedies. There, Apollo, as  a positive force,

defeats forces of chaos and destruction (the entr’acte Interior of Apollo’s

Temple at Delphi is built on Apollo’s theme).

“My ideal is to find unearthly things in art. Art is a kingdom of something

that doesn’t exist…” This aphorism gives a  key to  understanding of  the

work of Anatoly Lyadov, one of the most original personalities of Russian

music at  the turn of  the 20th century, unfortunately, underestimated

by his contemporaries and posterity.

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A son of  a Mariinsky Theatre conductor, Lyadov graduated from

the St. Petersburg Conservatory where he studied with Rimsky-Korsakov

and was invited to  teach theoretical disciplines. He only taught instrumentation

and composition during the  last years of  his life (Sergei

Prokofiev, Nikolai Myaskovsky, Yuri Shaporin, Mikhail Gnessin and

Boris Asafiev were his students). Many of his colleagues and pupils took

Lyadov for a modest miniaturist and author of fairy tales, a representative

of the Korsakov School who was loyal to his teacher’s precepts. Only deep

insight into his works allows us to see a composer who captured the aesthetic

essence of a different time – art nouveau and the Silver Age – with

extraordinary accuracy.

Lyadov’s disposition to  miniature forms and filigree finish of  every

detail (“…to do so  that every measure pleases”), as  well as  his inclination

to folklore matched the common trend of Russian artistic life of the

time  – initiation of  “pseudo-Russian” style in  architecture, flourishing

of  the “ornamental” tendency in  painting and design, increased attention

to exterior finish in very different aspects – from residential interiors

to books and printed music (the sheet music of Russian composers published

by Belyayev are good examples). The possibility of accurate recording

of  musical folklore by  means of  phonograph was at  the same time

a  precursor of  its extinction  – now the  artists seek to  portray through

the  state of  nature something that their posterity might never be able

to hear in living sound. The Eight Russian Folk Songs for orchestra (1906)

can be compared to the work of a jeweller who wants to level down his

cutting skills and present a precious gem in the most “natural” possible

framing. The orchestral sound of the Songs presents the treasure of folk

art as it is, as if it illustrates another of Lyadov’s statements – “Art is an

objective not a means.”

Another tendency of  art nouveau can be traced in  Lyadov’s orchestral

pieces  – a  broadly understood cult of  perfect beauty, art as  such.

In Lyadov’s strive to depict “a fairy tale, a dragon, a mermaid, a wood goblin,”

escaping “ from realism … as  all things human,” Rimsky-Korsakov’s

“heir” directly contradicts his teacher’s aesthetic creed (“The tale’s a lie,

but it’s got a hint…”). Lyadov had good reason to appreciate his “fairy tale

tableau” The Enchanted Lake (1908) – “How picturesque and pure it is, with

stars, and mysterious deep inside. And the  main thing  – with no people…

just dead nature, cold, evil but fabulous…” Some might not hear anything

but “static figuration,” but this music demands ultimate internal scrutinization

coming close to  the unattainable, that is devoid of  “everything

human” beauty of the Absolute.

“Arensky is amazingly smart in  music… This is a  very interesting personality,”

wrote Tchaikovsky about Anton Arensky. The life and work of this

highly talented musician directly confirms the  fact that common trends

of  Russian music at  the turn of  the century meant much more than

the differences between the St. Petersburg and Moscow schools. A graduate

of the St. Petersburg Conservatory and one of Rimsky-Korsakov’s students,

Arensky was invited to teach free composition at the Moscow Conservatory

(Sergei Rachmaninoff, Nikolai Medtner, Reinhold  Glière and many others

were his students). His acquaintance with Tchaikovsky had a huge impact on

Arensky’s life – he preserved his deep admiration for the personality and work

of his senior colleague. Tchaikovsky himself highly appreciated the young

composer’s talent and fostered the  spread of  his music. Tchaikovsky’s

opinion about Arensky was shared by Taneyev. Leo Tolstoy was a devotee

of his music too. In the end of his life, Arensky returned to St. Petersburg

to succeed to Balakirev as the director of the Imperial Choir.

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Performing as  a pianist, ensemble player, choral and symphonic

conductor, Arensky showed his worth in  various genres, but piano

and symphonic music constituted the most valuable part of his creative

legacy. Tchaikovsky’s unconditional influence which was

apparent in lyrical expressiveness and a songful nature of melodism

in his works were unwittingly combined with deep acquisition of the

Rimsky-Korsakov school (specifics of  his orchestration, inclination

to  folk song intonations). On this account his Variations on Themes

of Ryabinin for piano and orchestra (1899) are particularly interesting

(Trofim Ryabinin was a famous Russian narrator whose folk tales were

a source of inspiration for many Russian composers). Here, the composer

depicts epic characters and images through a  concerto-variation

form. Arensky’s two symphonies composed in the 1880s (B minor,

1883, and A major, 1889; a year earlier he wrote the opera Dream on

the  Volga that delighted Tchaikovsky) are engaging thanks to  their

sincere emotional warmth and lyrical heartiness. The composer’s later

orchestral suites and music for the ballet Egyptian Nights (1890) are

interesting for their genre distinctness and perfect external finish.

“Music… is in fact a language of moods, that is the states of our mind

that cannot be expressed in words and do not lend themselves to definite

description,” Vasily Kalinnikov believed. The life of this outstanding

composer was short and dramatic. He had to fight progressive tuberculosis

for nearly ten years fated for his composing career.

A native of Oryol and educated at the seminary, young Kalinnikov

came to Moscow to enter the preparatory division of the conservatory,

but was unable to continue his education because of the lack of money –

he spent the  subsequent years of  his life perpetually in  want on

the brink of poverty. Kalinnikov finished the music and drama college

of  the Moscow Philharmonic Society where he studied bassoon and

composition, turned a  penny playing in  orchestras, conducting and

rewriting sheet music. His first orchestral works were performed

when he was a student – the symphonic picture Nymphs, Scherzo and

Serenade for string orchestra. After he finished the college, the young

musician was a conductor at the Moscow Italian Theatre, but his acute

condition made him move to  the Crimea. The  last years of  his life

were the most productive. He wrote two symphonies (No. 1 in G minor

was first performed in  1895, in  Kiev and enjoyed wide popularity

in  Russian in  his lifetime), the  symphonic picture The  Cedar and

the  Palm (1898), two orchestral intermezzos and incidental music

to  Aleksey Tolstoy’s drama Tsar Boris (1899) commissioned by  the

Maly Theatre. The patron of arts Savva Morozov also commissioned

Kalinnikov to write the opera In 1812, but the dying composer only had

time for the prologue.

“Sit up and take notice of  Kalinnikov’s music. As you listen to  these

sounds filled with poetry, where do you see a  sign of  their birth in  …

the  mind of  a dying man? … It’s healthy music from beginning to  end,

sincere music, living one…” wrote Semyon Kruglikov, a  friend of  the

composer’s and critic. Borodin’s epic might combined in a remarkable

manner with Tchaikovsky’s anxious emotionality transforms into

a deeply individual style which was compared by Asafiev to Koltsov’s

poetry. The associations with Turgenev’s lyrical landscapes, Bunin’s

prose, Yesenin’s verses or Levitan’s landscapes are as natural. It seems

like the  soul of  Russia itself sings in  these “almost unspeakable”

sounds. It is difficult to believe that music as lighthearted and spiritual

as this was penned by a tormented man.

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Sergei Lyapunov was born in  Yaroslavl and spent his childhood years

in Nizhny Novgorod, a home city of Balakirev. On the recommendation of Nikolai

Rubinstein he entered the Moscow Conservatory, studied there with Taneyev

and graduated from it with honours. However, it was his incidental acquaintance

with Balakirev that determined his further life – the young musician moved

to St. Petersburg where he became a close friend and associate of his mentor.

Together with Balakirev he edited the  complete collection of  Glinka’s

works. As a member of the Russian Geographic Society, Lyapunov took part

in the expeditions to Russian North to collect folk songs. Their reliance on

Glinka’s traditions, lively interest in folklore and outstanding pianistic and

conducting talents drew the composers of two different generations together.

Balakirev’s style had tangible influence on Lyapunov’s symphonic and

piano works. Lyapunov finished Balakirev’s Second Piano Concerto and Suite

in  B minor for orchestra that remained incomplete after Balakirev’s death

and also made a  brilliant orchestral transcription of  Islamey. Lyapunov’s

concept of the symphonic poem Żelazowa Wola (1909), named after the place

of  Frédéric Chopin’s birth and where the  Polish genius was memorialized

through Balakirev’s efforts, was also linked with his senior friend.

Two symphonies are distinctive landmarks in Lyapunov’s legacy. The First

Symphony in  B minor (1885–87) continued the  traditions of  the Balakirev

Circle and signified the  beginning of  creative maturity, while the  Second

Symphony in B flat minor (1910–17, performed for the first time in 1950) concluded

the composer’s career. The Solemn Overture on Russian Themes (1896)

was an artistic response to the last Russian emperor’s accession to the throne

and received a high appraisal from Balakirev. In the period of the composer’s

work on his monumental Second Symphony, he also wrote the  symphonic

poem Hashish (1913) based on Arseny Golenishchev-Kutuzov’s poem which

continued the traditions of “Russian musical Orient.”

The music of Nikolai Medtner may not seem to belong in the Anthology

of Russian Symphonic Music. As a matter of fact, the composer only used

orchestra in his piano concertos and was mostly focused on solo piano

music and chamber genres. However, Medtner’s music played a  very

special role in  Evgeny Svetlanov’s life and career accompanying him

from literally the first steps of his professional activities.

Maria Gurvich, an associate professor at the Gnessins Music Teachers

Institute (now the Russian Music Academy) and Svetlanov’s piano teacher,

was one Medtner’s best piano students. In defiance of time, she always

gave his students compositions by the émigré composer and arranged

recitals of Medtner’s music. As Nina Moznaim-Svetlanova remembers,

“Svetlanov’s performance at the Medtner evenings was extraordinary. Even

then, in the early years, it had his personal special traits. Those concerts

were known for their integrity, duration of music phrases, clarity of sound

and his unique manner of performing the high points.”

Later on, Svetlanov, already a celebrated conductor, performed and

recorded all Medtner’s chamber ensembles and a  number of  his solo

pieces that are featured in  this set. He also initiated a  gala concert

in  Moscow on the  occasion of  the 100th anniversary of  the great

Russian composer, pianist and educator. Svetlanov, a conductor, pianist

and composer, who realized himself as  a successor to  the traditions

of Russian classical music, also felt the continuity of Medtner’s music,

its synthesis of  lyrical and intellectual components. Working on this

Anthology, we thought it only fitting to have this name among the other

composers featured in the largest project in the world history of sound

recording.

Boris Mukosey