boris tishchenko
TRANSCRIPT
Boris Tishchenko
Violin Concerto No.2 (Violin Symphony), Op. 84 (1981)1 I. Allegro moderato 14:22
2 II. Presto 14:08
3 III. Allegro 10:06
4 IV. Andante 13:31
Sergey Stadler, violin
Leningrad Philharmonic • Vasily Sinaysky, conductor
Organ Inventions, Op. 27 (1964)5 Invention No.3. Insistent Figuration 2:36
6 Invention No.6. Descending Variants 3:11
7 Invention No.7. Theme and Development 3:07
Nina Oksentyan, organ
Yuefu, three choir songs a capella on Chinese folk texts, Op. 14 (1959)8 Springtime in the Forest 2:03
9 The Sun Shone Brightly Over the Earth 1:37
10 Springtime in the Garden 1:08
Leningrad Chamber Choir • Valentin Nesterov, conductor
Total Playing Time: 66:12
Recorded by the Saint Petersburg (Leningrad) Recording Studio in the Leningrad Capella Concert Hall in
1975 (8-10), 1981 (5-7) and in 1987 (1-4)
Sound Engineers: Gerhard Tsess (1-4, 8-10) and Felix Gurdzhi (5-7)
Text: Northern Flowers; English text: Sergey Suslov
Design: Anastasia Yevmenova; Cover photo: "Leningrad" by Boris Smelov
The works of Boris Ivanovich Tishchenko (1939-2010) have a unique
position in the panorama of today’s art. We remember how difficult the
development of music in the 20th century was. The greatest trial was
the urge towards radical innovations, which often led to the nearly
complete loss of individual style. Tishchenko’s music has a rare quality
– it is instantaneously identifiable, by the first notes and bars. They
form a world setting out its own laws and demanding maximum
concentration. Integrity, the scale of artistic issues, and artist’s
responsibility – such are the key points of his personality.
The whole life of Boris Tishchenko was related to St. Petersburg; it was
there his genesis as a musician began. First of all, years of study at the
Rimsky-Korsakov School of Music, where Tishchenko studied piano
with V. Michelis and composition with G. Ustvolskaya. Her influence
proved to be powerful and fruitful, and can be amply heard even in his
early works (eg the piano Variations, with which Tishchenko entered
the Conservatory.) Apart from composition, Tishchenko studied piano
(with A. Logovinsky.) Composition classes were with V. Salmanov, V.
Voloshinov and O. Yevlakhov, and his postgraduate studies, with D.
Shostakovich.
The role of creative contacts with Shostakovich cannot be
overestimated. It was to him that Tishchenko dedicated his Third and
Fifth Symphonies (the latter written after the death of Shostakovich.)
Already in his student years, many works became known, especially as
some of them were performed for the first time by the author (First
Piano Concerto, Third Piano Sonata.) In 1965, Tishchenko started as
professor teaching at the St.Petersburg Conservatory, in particular
score reading and instrumentation, and from 1974, composition.
Tishchenko wrote in almost all genres, from super-symphonies to
songs a cappella. At the same time, certain genres enjoyed a special
position in his work, primarily, the symphony. Addressing it is a special
“plot” in the composer’s biography, from the early First written at the
age of 22 to the Eighth. Each symphony is unique, from the scoring of
instruments to the concept and drama. Extended solo meditations and
stunning tutti’s, acute and harsh contrasts keep the listener in tension
from start to finish. Strict economy of resources is also surprising, with
a brief motif generally used as the basis for the whole development.
This can also be said about the instrumental concertos: where the
soloist discloses his/her virtuoso abilities, usually giving way to a
strained monologue where the soloist and the orchestra make one
voice (understandably, the Second Violin Concerto was also titled
“Violin Symphony”).
Chamber music is a special sphere. For instance, symphonic drama
mightily shows itself in the Second and Third String Quartets, and in
piano sonatas. They may be rightly called symphonies for piano. The
author’s idea seems to be testing the limits of the instrument – by using
maximum dynamic range, or by combining transparent one-voice chant
and deafening clusters (in the Seventh Sonata, bells chime alongside the
piano.) The emotional gamut is extremely wide, recalling the style of
Ancient Russian frescoes, and lyrical sentimentality ( indicated in the
“Portraits” cycle for organ.) The range of artistic themes of the
composer’s vocal music is also broad. They include the vocal cycle “Sad
Songs” written in the year of graduation from the Conservatory, and the
parody grotesque of “Little Orange” cycle, to the piercing “The Race of
Time” to words by A. Akhmatova.
Interestingly, as regards musical theatre, Tishchenko preferred ballet
rather than opera. A very important line in Tishchenko’s creativity is
the history of Ancient Rus, full of stern fascination and proud greatness.
The noble glory of warlike feats and sorrow for lost freedom, rejoicing
chimes of bells and ascetic, severe, sounds of sacred chant – these
images come to the mind in the ballet Yaroslavna and the films Suzdal
etc. The unique individuality of Tishchenko’s style is emphasized by its
relationship to very different cultures. On one hand, the music of past
ages, Renaissance and Baroque - passion for it has proved to be very
stable –eg works of Bach and Monteverdi (he created his own
orchestral version of The Coronation of Poppea.) They are also the
origins of the linear polyphonic type of thinking as the structural base
of Tishchenko’s music. It is this feature that gives an impression of
rationality and discipline, knowing nothing excessive and just
emphasizing the rich fantasy of the author. Another very important
source of creative discoveries was non-European cultures: India, China,
Japan etc., and folklore (he went to folklore expeditions as a student.)
Due to them he generated monodic types of melodies, infinite rhythmic
diversity and freedom, and finally the development technique itself,
where the whole grows out of a brief melodic “grain.”
And finally, we cannot avoid remembering the impact of the 20th
century music, and primarily Béla Bartók, Alban Berg, Sergei Prokofiev,
Igor Stravinsky, and of course the composer’s teachers Ustvolskaya and
Shostakovich. Probably the main thing connecting Tishchenko to them
is a conviction that any innovation as an end-in-itself is disastrous for
art. All discoveries of Boris Tishchenko in the sphere of rhythm,
melodic texture and orchestration, or drama, originate under the laws
of the art of music. The features of Tishchenko’s music generally tend to
support the musical utterance as a monologue. The author does not
reproduce a model of the surrounding world in his music, but rather
builds a separate enclosed world. The result is an utterance appealing
to the depth of human mentality, to individual consciousness. In this
respect, Tishchenko presents two polar modes of consciousness, the
state of ultimate self-absorption, introspective meditation – and images
of total destruction, where everything perishes in chaos only to be
reborn later.
T h e Second Concerto for Violin (1982, dedicated to his wife Irina
Tishchenko-Donskaya) is very typical for Tishchenko. The
monumentality (the concerto was titled “Violin Symphony”) going
beyond our usual concepts of the concerto, its uncommon difficulty for
the performer, the scope of questions raised, and sophisticated forms –
all that is the Tishchenko we know. It was dedicated to Sergey Stadler
(born 1962), a young man then. The virtuoso violinist won the first
prize at the Tchaikovsky Competition in Moscow in 1982, several other
prestigious international competitions, and used to give up to 150
concerts a year
the soloist. In over 50 minutes, the violinist has to overcome all
possible technical, ensemble, rhythmic and other challenges;
performance turns into an exhausting marathon requiring extreme
creative and physical strain from the soloist. At the premiere on
November 25, 1985 in the Grand Hall of Leningrad Philharmonic
(under Vasily Sinaysky), Sergey Stadler left the stage twice to replace
broken strings, somewhat bewildering the packed house. And it’s hard
to imagine other brilliant and skilled violinists willing to sacrifice
several months studying and performing such a difficult piece. But such
is Tishchenko – uncompromising in all his acts as composer, in his
relationships with colleagues, friends and relatives, and with society.
The concerto has four movements that follow without intermission.
The first (Allegro moderato) is a huge introduction, which also has
dramatic development, but its evident understatement and
incompleteness requires a further serious talk. It starts with a chorale
of French horns, a motif of great importance throughout the movement.
In the culmination, French horns will reappear in the forefront, but this
time with a mighty theme of heroic attitude. Grotesquery, irony,
scherzoso attitude, and some incoherence are characteristic of the
extended initial section – all these are typically Tishchenko’s narratives,
and as it often happens, musical motion rather unexpectedly acquires a
nature of steel. The ostinato rhythms, and gradual joining- in of the
orchestra’s percussion and brass lead to a quite powerful culmination,
after which the scattered motifs of the beginning return. The French
horns’ melodic formulas reappear, more muted this time; the musical
texture gradually dissolves in a high clear register with the soloist and
the orchestra.
T h e Presto of the second movement begins with a cadence by the
soloist. Convulsive virtuoso replies of violin create a feeling of search
for the theme, obsession, query. Little by little, other instruments of the
orchestra joint the soloist, until a dashing scherzo appears at last,
whose gaiety is deceptive: something satanic can be heard under
rampant bouncy rhythms and catchy determined intonations. After a
few pauses, the scherzo resumes running, gradually falling into a
controllable chaos of sounds. After a few failed attempts to regain, to
find the nearly lost scherzo, a violin cadence of a mega-huge scale and
mission begins. Probably it has no parallel in the world’s concert
repertoire: Tishchenko uses here all possible and impossible
techniques for strings. The cadence is followed by the third movement,
Allegro, which is also quick.
These are variations, in the most classical sense of the genre. More
exactly, they are even rondo variations, since the main theme, its first
powerful tutti chordal tune, is recurring almost unchanged. But the
musical material of the third movement is continuously varied,
appearing in whimsical instrumental and rhythmic combinations. The
head motif gets cluttered by second voices, details, and techniques (not
only in the solo part, but also with many orchestra soloists), and, as
often happens with Tishchenko, a sustained buildup of volume is going
on. The third movement breaks off when chanting the main theme,
whose varying metre vaguely resembles another episode in Russian
music, Stravinsky’s Danse Infernale from The Firebird.
The finale, Andante, is also variations, but now in the genre of
passacaglia, to an unchanged bass. Several famous passacaglias of
Shostakovich can be recalled, primarily from Violin Concerto No. 1. It
seems Tishchenko in his Second Violin Concerto remembered his
mentor by addressing the old-time polyphonic style.
The unison statement of the first theme sounding like an appeal, like a
trumpet challenge to single combat declared by the entire orchestra, is
followed by a reply full of tenderness and sorrow. Moreover, the
orchestra’s unison is announced three times, as if recalling Orpheus’s
conversation with the Furies. Next, 16 statements of an unchanged
theme in the bass follow in a passacaglia; the sound is gradually
enlarging. In the culmination, the first calling voice reappears, and once
again the answer is full of quietude and conciliation. The last pages of
the score bring the listener back to the material of the concerto’s first
movement. The music dissolves in the upper register, repeating the
ending of Allegro moderato, spanning a conceptual arc, drawing a
circle, in the centre of which there is room for drama, sarcasm, love,
and issues of existence, in short everything around us.
In 1963, 24-year-old Boris Tishchenko made acquaintance with the
outstanding Leningrad organist Isaiah A. Braudo. By Braudo’s
prompting, he orchestrated Monteverdi’s opera The Coronation of
Poppea. Braudo’s daughter Anastasia, also a brilliant organist, became
Tishchenko’s first wife. It was to her that he presented the cycle of
Organ inventions whose editor I. Braudo became, as a wedding gift.
Anyway, searching for new forms, genres, music epochs, and narratives
was a keystone of Tishchenko’s creative portrait. He likes professional
challenges, and the old polyphonic genre of invention (Latin Inventio,
meaning contrivance) gave the young composer room for new
techniques.
Tishchenko’s organ inventions are largely an experimental opus. The
author shows most profound understanding of the instrument’s
specifics; breaking from the prejudice of traditionalism, from old
schoolbook polyphony, he gives tribute both to the homophonic
harmonic contour and to the choral, monodic constitution. The
Inventions were recorded on the organ of the Leningrad Academic
Capella – one of the few good instruments that survived by the
1970/80s. They were performed by Nina Oksentyan, a student of Isaiah
Braudo, and professor of organ at the Leningrad (St.Petersburg)
Conservatory. This CD contains three of the twelve inventions included
in Opus 27.
Yuefu (literally “Music Bureau”) is a genre of traditional Chinese poetry
that emerged two centuries BC, folk songs collected and edited in the
said “Music Bureau,” an Old Chinese office for folklore songs and local
morals embodied in music. Several hundred Yuefu texts have survived,
but all their music was lost. The themes of Yuefu are love, brevity of life,
hardships in the people’s fate, and war. Young Tishchenko’s capability
in experimenting is astonishing. What prompted him to a kind of
musical reconstruction of old Chinese tradition? In 1959, the first book
on the “Music Bureau” was published in the USSR; it was “Yuefu. From
Ancient Chinese Songs,” in translations and with a vast introduction by
Boris Vakhtin, a prominent Leningrad sinologist and Oriental
researcher. Probably, the composer who was barely 20 years old
decided to recreate the lost ancient musical texts. He is incredibly
inventive working with the choral texture (brilliant schooling in the
class of Galina Ustvolskaya shows up ); voices are very mobile, with
subtle imitations and timbral oppositions everywhere. The author
seems to be armed with a neatly sharpened reed pen for drawing
hieroglyphs; the palette of these choirs is tender, and the semantic
accents are placed accurately. The composer also pays tribute to
traditional Chinese modes, that is, whole-tone scales; the Oriental style
is also emphasized by rhythmic variability, elusiveness, and no square
structure due to continuously changing numbers of beats to each bar.
Given below are the texts of the choruses. From the entire Yuefu, the
composer chose lyrical love messages. In a translation from Chinese
into Russian, and then into English, they lose some accuracy, but their
poetry, brevity, and imagery are enchanting.
– Northern Flowers
Springtime in the Forest
In the springtime forest, flowers blossom so lovely
Birds sing about love so sadly
The spring winds arouse such excitement
Blowing on me, and opening my attire.
The Sun Shone Brightly Over the Earth
The sun has blazed up over the earth, all around is ablaze in its beams
I would love to fly after my loved one like a faithful swallow
I wish him that all the forecasts come true
Let his life last long, for a full thousand years.
Springtime in the Garden
In the springtime garden, golden daisies are blooming
And water in the lakes is clear in early spring.
I’ll draw some wine, and fill my goblet for the first time
I’ll tune the strings, and play the springtime air.
Northern Flowers NF99149 5055354481468
℗&© 2021, Northern Flowers and Musical Concepts
Digital edition ℗ 2021, Musical Concepts
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