In doing my radio show that no one listens to, what I lack in technical knowledge I make up for with some fully-formed and – so far as I can tell – unassailable convictions (e.g. Shostakovich is god, Bartok is god, and Schnittke is also god) as well as a reasonable understanding of the history of the music and the places where it was written. I like to read, and I have read a lot about classical music in the last five years. (I knew next to nothing prior to that.) I like reading history, and it is fascinating to read about the context within which a composer worked because, like many Americans, I got no understanding of world history while in high school or college. As I am wont to repeat, since it is glaringly true, native-born Americans can not begin to understand the horror experienced in most of the world – Central America, South America, Africa, Europe, Asia – in the 20th Century. I say this because I didn’t or couldn’t understand it, either, until fairly recently. (I highly recommend Dan Carlin’s Hardcore History podcasts; the four episodes on the Ostfront in WWII might be a good place to start…)
In the 20th century, Russia – or from 1917-1992, the USSR – not only had to deal with a violent overthrow of its ruling system and a savage invader whose soldiers were ordered to commit genocide – the Nazis – but it also had, during the long and brutal reign of Jozef “Stalin”, to deal with a leader seemingly bent on killing more Russians than Hitler. Which he did. Which is saying something.
Stalin, by middle-of-the-road estimates, killed around 100 million of his own citizens during his almost 3-decade reign; he was a leader who killed people who told jokes about him – even if the evidence was hearsay. Shostakovich in Testimony recounts going into bathrooms at gatherings in order to tell jokes, so that you could have the faucets running to mask any accidental laughter.
Naturally, free expression by artists was untenable in such a climate. Artists (apart from writers, that is) were not killed, generally; they were simply deprived of any way to earn an income – at which point they could always drink themselves to death. Composers like Shostakovich and Prokofiev, who had established international fame before Stalin’s consolidation of power, were luckier. They were allowed to compose, though within limits – innovations in Western art music like 12-tone rows, atonality, and harsh dissonances were forbidden. Young Soviet composers in the post-War years were not allowed to even learn about such innovations, although several instructors snuck stuff in from time to time. Music history for the conservatory students in the late 1940s and early 1950s pretty much stopped at Brahms. Mahler was considered radical, in other words. Schoenberg? Berg? Webern? No chance.
There was no celebration when Stalin died – like Hitler, the majority of the population (those that he hadn’t killed or disappeared) loved him – but artists warily and gradually resumed their natural inclination to push boundaries when Stalin left the picture.
I recently had the opportunity to speak with Peter Schmelz, who has written two excellent books of musical history, both on the art/classical music composers coming of age in the Thaw.
The first of the books, the one that lead me to reach out to Dr. Schmelz, is an overview of the period titled Such Freedom, if only musical; Unofficial Soviet Music During the Thaw. It is a book that covers the early and radical successes of a bunch of composers who went on to establish long and storied careers (Arvo Part, Alfred Schnittke, Sofia Gubaidulina, Valentin Silvestrov), as well as some fascinating characters (like Andrei Volkonsky) who didn’t.
The second book, which came out in 2019, is Alfred Schnittke’s Concerto Grosso No. 1. Not unlike those tomes that examine a classic rock’n’roll album and its context, the Schnittke book is fun, for lack of a better word. Peppered with pictures – one shows Gidon Kremer in tinted shades and long sideburns and his then-wife Tatjana Grindenko in a hippie blouse at the recording session, e.g. – it gets into the minutiae that give new insights into a work you’ll want listen to again multiple times.
The following mix is the music of the Thaw, straight up and without introductions or interview segments. It is NOT a good place to start with these composers, necessarily – the famous names all went on to establish distinctive styles with widely-admired pieces considerably less radical than those heard herein. (I’m going to do another mix of such works soon.) No, this is the sound of a bunch of geniuses back when they were kids and suddenly had the freedom to experiment. Schmelz confirmed that the excitement I sensed in the proceedings was not just me reading-between-the-lines. The breaking-rules exhilaration (however muted by circumstances and genetics) on the part of unofficial composers and on the parts of the audiences for their works that Schmelz described reminded me of music scenes like the free jazz underground of the early ’60s that Leroi Jones/Amira Baraka described in Black Music or the late-’70s No Wave scene on NYC’s Lower East Side. Guerrilla concerts in houses and hole-in-the-wall clubs, news spread by word-of-mouth, cigarettes, sunglasses, and a whole bunch of smart young people looking good…
I can not recommend the two books highly enough. I found a copy of Such Freedom on Biblio for $25 bucks. The Schnittke book is paperback and a new release, so it’s affordable. Schmelz’s next book will deal with the 1980s, when Part, Schnittke, Silvestrov and Gubaidulina emerged as internationally-recognized talents. Needless to say, I’m psyched for that one, too.
0:00:00
Volkonsky: Mirror Suite for soprano and 5 players
on text by Federico García Lorca (1960) (excerpt)
0:00:05
Volkonsky: Musica Stricta (1956) (excerpt)
Alexei Grots
0:05:05
Volkonsky: Mirror Suite (excerpt)
Lydia Davydova & Andrei Volkonsky (organ) w/ Igor Blazhkov:
Leningrad PO Soloists Ensemble
0:07:55
Part: Nekrolog, Op. 5 (1961)
Paavo Jaarvi: Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra
0:20:30
Schnittke: Violin Sonata (1963); arr. for chamber orchestra, 1968); III.
Christian Bergqvist w/ Lev Markiz: Stockholm CO
0:26:00
Denisov: Sun of the Incas (1964)
Nelly Lee (soprano) w/ Alexander Lazarev: Bolshoi Theatre Soloists
0:46:15
Karetnikov: Symphony No. 4 (1964)
Alexander Lazarev: BBC Symphony
1:12:45
Gubaidulina: Night In Memphis (1968)
Moscow State Film Orchestra
1:36:50
Silvestrov: Trio for flute, trumpet and celesta (1962)
Orlando Cela, flute; Jonah Kappraff, trumpet; Sivan Etedgee, celesta
1:47:02
Tishchenko: Piano Concerto (1962) (excerpt)
Boris Tishchenko (p) w/ Igor Blazkov: Leningrad PO
1:55:44
Part: Perpetuum Mobile (1963)
1:58:47
Schnittke: Violin Concerto 2 (1966)
Mark Lubotsky w/ Eri Klas: Malmo SO
Concentration Camp 