Cello Concerto in C minor No. 2 opus 77

Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra
Dmitri Kabalevsky (conductor)
Daniil Shafran (cello)

Combined with:
Prokofiev: Symphony-Concertante in E minor for violoncello and orchestra opus 125
USSR State Symphony Orchestra
Gennady Rozhdestvensky (conductor)
Daniil Shafran (cello)

Tsintsadze: Five Pieces on Folk Themes for cello and piano
Daniil Shafran (cello)
Nina Musinyan (piano)

Cello Classics CC 1008

Recorded in 1967

Quite apart from being a miniature encyclopedia entry on Shafran this is one of those discs that stays in the memory. It is one that you will want to return to for Shafran's urgency, desperation, fantasy and emotional range - never mind his extraordinary technical accomplishments.

The whole production is to the great credit of Sebastian Comberti's Cello Classics label. There are no fewer than nine excellent portraits of Shafran in the booklet plus a scene-setting biographical essay, full notes on each piece including a scan of the autograph dedication to Shafran on the score of the Kabalevsky concerto … and Stephen Isserlis's unmissable personal tribute. To cap it all the choice of repertoire evades the obvious and embraces the delightfully and sometimes scarringly unfamiliar.

The Prokofiev is a reworking of his Cello Concerto in E minor from 1939. When premiered in February 1952 by Rostropovich with the Moscow Youth Orchestra conducted by Sviatoslav Richter (his first and only appearance as a conductor) it was called 'Cello Concerto No. 2'. This work still strikes one overall as a piece in transition not quite having found its butterfly form. Nevertheless it is alive with Prokofiev's razor-sharp fantasy and romantic edginess. As an illustration try the andante con moto at 5.12 where the composer conjures a very unusual sense of exhausted collapse into strange harmonies and textures.

Stanley Dale Krebs, the first full-time American student at the Moscow Conservatoire, wrote of Kabalevsky possessing two of the three qualities of a fine composer (superb technique and insight into immediate popular success) but lacking the third (a personal depth that must sometimes defy the other two qualities). Shafran's 1954 recording of the First Concerto had given it currency across the USSR and beyond. The composer dedicated his Second Cello Concerto to Shafran. It is a work that has undeniable depth defying Krebs' condemnation. The mood is intensified by the composer having opted for a slow-fast-slow configuration - just as his teacher Miaskovsky had two decades previously in his own cello concerto.

The five skilfully coloured Georgian folk sketches by Tsintadze subtly usher central Asian material into the Soviet concert tradition. These miniatures will appeal to anyone who has a taste for the symphonies of Terteryan or Hovhaness. I wonder if Shafran included any of these among the nine encores he played at that famous Wigmore Hall concert back in the 1990s. We can only hope that young cellists intent on shaking people from the complacent repertoire-round will think of introducing these pieces into recitals and competitions.

I suspect, going by the very low level surface noise, that these tracks came from Steven Isserlis's collection of MK and Melodiya LPs. There are quite a few of us out here who would welcome a second and third Shafran disc if Cello Classics can find enough unfamiliar Russian material with which to fill them. Place this beside EMI's Rostropovich 'Russian Years' box and do not forget that Rostropovich was not the only star in the USSR's firmament. Shafran and 'Slava' shared several Soviet prizes. The accident of temperament, politics and promotional drive separated Shafran from the international reputation enjoyed by Rostropovich. When you hear this disc you will know what I mean. A treasure and a pleasure.

Rob Barnett
MusicWeb, April 2003

An older contemporary of Rostropovich and a musician of the rarest distinction here at his inimitable best

First, the bottom line: this is an inestimably important cello release, one that no aficionado of great string playing can afford to ignore. As a relative youngster Daniil Shafran shared important competition prizes with Rostropovich; but his appearances outside of Russia were rare and most of his recordings remained all but unknown beyond specialist circles. There were one or two exceptions, most notably Shostakovich’s Cello Sonata with the composer at the piano (last here on Revelation, 10/96 – nla), a real ‘cello classic’ if ever there was one that enjoyed limited circulation in the West. Another was Kabalevsky’s lyrical First Cello Concerto (of 1949) which, in its original LP guise (MK, 1/66 – nla), came tethered to the like-minded Third Piano Concerto (with Emil Gilels) and the C major Violin Concerto (with David Oistrakh). It was a showcase production both for a then-popular Soviet composer and a trio of stellar Soviet performers.

The Second Cello Concerto (1964) is rather different, a fairly big work, mostly serious in tone with demanding cadenzas and a wink or two in the direction of Prokofiev’s Symphony-Concerto. Kabalevsky himself was hugely impressed by Shafran’s playing – and little wonder given its sensual tone, its agility in faster music and unerring concentration. Shafran’s sound is very different to Rostropovich’s, more prone to building vibrato on the note – starting ‘cold’ then gradually intensifying the vibration – or alternating notes with, or without, vibrato. Others bent on similar ploys can sound mannered, but not Shafran, whose seamless bowing and widened dynamics, not to mention his extraordinary deftness, have inspired accolades bordering on a cult. Comparisons in the Prokofiev (a much better piece) are especially telling, Rostropovich being earnest but suave, Shafran more colourful but unremittingly intense. Gennady Rozhdestvensky’s mastery of the orchestral score is an added bonus: one might recall that this was the period when he made his greatest Prokofiev recordings.

Sulkhan Tsintsadze’s Five Pieces on Folk Tunes – the fourth sounds as if it’s strayed out of Rimsky’s Capriccio espagnole – remind me of a brilliant encore sequence that Shafran gave at the end of a Wigmore Hall recital some years ago. It was a memorable event that had been facilitated by the ‘Shafranites’ Steven Isserlis, Olli Mustonen and Peter Biddulph. Like Heifetz on the fiddle and Friedman or Horowitz on piano, Shafran packs so much shading and expression into a modest musical time-span that you could as well be listening to a much longer piece: virtually every bar holds its own brand of magic. Shafran’s rapport with pianist Nina Musinyan is a model of persuasive musical collaboration and the slightly scruffy sound has been nicely cleaned up. The Kabalevsky alone is in stereo and there is some excellent annotation by Isserlis and Andrew Stewart.

If you want to investigate further, I’d follow up – if you can find or borrow a copy – with Bach’s Cello Suites Nos 2-5 (Revelation) though it’s worth noting that Melodiya hold a complete set of the Suites. Could Cello Classics investigate further? I sincerely hope so.

Rob Cowan
Gramophone, November 2002

The recorded legacy of Daniil Shafran (1923-97) is huge, appearing during the Soviet era on the Melodiya label, though it's still under-represented on CD. Cello Classics (a specialist UK independent label managed by the London Mozart Players' principal cellist Sebastian Comberti) has sourced three rare masters for this collection, which begins with a live 1961 Moscow Conservatory performance of Prokofiev's Sinfonia concertante, under the direction of Gennady Rozhdestvensky. The transfer is marred by inevitable tape hiss and extraneous noise, and the dynamic range is understandably somewhat limited. However, solo lines emerge with adequate clarity and presence, even if some internal orchestral detailing fails to register. Most importantly, Shafran's account is gripping, and his concentration and tonal refinement never waver. In particular, the central allegro, taken very rapidly indeed, attests to the phenomenal and flawless virtuosity for which Shafran was famed.

His 1967 Leningrad recording of Kabalevsky's Cello Concerto No. 2 is slightly less successful, having uncomfortably close orchestral perspectives. But again, Shafran's playing is riveting; little wonder that the composer (who conducts here) reportedly exclaimed during the sessions, "It's wonderful! Magnificent! I don't recognize my own music!" Although Sulkhan Tsintsadze's Five Pieces on Folk Themes (1952) provide attractive make-weights, there's much more interesting Shafran material than this that's also long overdue for revival. For example, Cello Classics might consider Shafran's 1949 version of Davidov's Concerto No. 2, briefly available on Russian-Disc. Meantime, this present offering couldn't be more welcome.

Michael Jameson
Classics Today

Daniil Shafran (1923-97) was one of musical Russia’s best-kept secrets. Revered by Western cellists who’d occasionally encounter his Melodiya LPs, Shafran rarely travelled outside the former USSR, shunning the globetrotting, PR-driven lifestyle of the itinerant virtuoso. Famed for his phenomenal technique, legendary concentration and unmistakable sound, Shafran’s discographic legacy continues to amaze, whenever rare or long-deleted material resurfaces.

Cello Classics, the specialist label masterminded by cellist Sebastian Comberti, has exhumed three incredible performances for this Shafran tribute. Let’s hope there’s more to come, perhaps Shafran’s unsurpassed 1949 version of Davidov’s Concerto No. 2, briefly available on Russian Disc.

This collection opens with a live 1961 Moscow Conservatory recording of Prokofiev’s Sinfonia concertante, under Rozhdestvensky. The performance is nothing less than electrifying, with Shafran’s virtuosity gripping from first note to last. Sonically, his 1967 Leningrad account of Kabalevsky’s Second Concerto, with the composer conducting, is marginally less successful, with predictably close instrumental perspectives and compressed dynamic range. Shafran’s playing is riveting, however, and infused with a warmth and sincerity unmatched since. Finally, the Georgian composer and cellist Sulkhan Tsintsadze’s idiomatic folk pieces (of 1952) make an ideal filler. Mandatory listening for cellists everywhere.

Michael Jameson
BBC Music Magazine