The more I hear of Dmitry Kabalevsky's music, the more I am persuaded that he is one of the most interesting composers of the 20th century. In spite of his participation in the Stalinist musical bureaucracy and his acquiescence in their dogmatic stupidities, his compositions are never meretricious; they are expressive, deeply felt, and invariably well-written. The two cello concertos on this disc are a case in point. The first, written for students, has a certain amount of virtuoso display but is mainly sunny and lyrical. The second, in which the three movements are bridged by moving cadenzas for solo cello, opens with a somber and mysterious theme and then becomes agitated; the second movement is full of strong, propulsive rhythms, and the third begins and ends in a plaintive mood with an impassioned central section. Both are pieces for cello with lightly-scored orchestral accompaniment rather than conventional concertos, in which the solo instrument engages in conversation and competition with the orchestra. The "Spring" suite is a charming, lyrical waltz.
Alexander Rudin has a rather small and somewhat whiny tone but he is skillful and eloquent and the orchestra is adequate. Although neither has quite as much energy as the music seems to require, their performance is effective and enjoyable.
Alexander J. Morin
Classical Net, 1999
Until I did the research, I hadn't realized that Dmitri Borisovich Kabalevsky died relatively recently, in 1987. Born in 1904, he thus lived within a notoriously difficult time for Soviet composers. Having said that, Kabalevsky was "good" enough to win the Stalin Prize (the highest award for a Soviet composer during the Stalin era) three times, and was awarded the Order of Lenin in 1965.
Even better, Kabalevsky was one of the few big-time Soviet composers who escaped the infamous 1948 condemnation of composers by the Central Committee of the Communist Party. The scapegoats, including Prokofiev, Shostakovich, Khachaturian and Miaskovsky were censured for indulging in "decadent formalism". However, the Naxos notes reveal that Kabalevsky had in fact removed his own name from the "hit list" and replaced it with another. (Is this true? Can anyone confirm this?)
Still, Kabalevsky (below left) is considered one of the most instantly accessible composers of the 20th century Soviet era, well-known for his Colas Breugnon overture and The Comedians Suite - rocking fun music.
In three movements and lasting less than 20 minutes, Kabalevsky's Cello Concerto No.1 is a largely quiet work, with very few moments of "loud" music. To the accompaniment of pizzicato strings, the soloist enters soon, winding and singing his way through a soundscape of economically crafted colours and relatively simple orchestration. The result is very easy on the ear, but offers enough food for thought. I particularly enjoy the solo cello lines for their directness and simplicity which never descends into monotony.
The Largo, molto espressivo is remarkable for its beautiful themes for the soloist, lamenting wistfully, then singing with melting heartbreak. The cadenza, similarly, is one of forlorn grief, with a brief but powerful pizzicato sequence. The final Allegretto begins with a quiet clarinet solo before the soloist strides in with a theme reminiscent of Dvorak. The material is developed very satisfyingly. The opening theme returns at the end with an ample display of cello virtuosity, and the concerto ends with a confident conclusion which never steps out of the boundaries of its disciplined but brilliant architecture.
What is very satisfying is the way Kabalevsky avoids dwelling on too long with the work. Not one movement is longer than seven minutes (the Largo is only 5'28"). The result then is a bite-sized concerto which reveals its stuff clearly but retains enough substance to warrant repeated listening - and public performance!
Cast in three linked movements and dedicated to Daniil Shafran, the Cello Concerto No.2 begins ominously with the soloist plucking a dark, solemn theme. The expanded orchestra - with harps, alto saxophone and contrabassoon - hums and buzzes errily in the background, molto sostenuto. The brooding atmosphere is reminiscent of Shostakovich, but bear in mind that this 1964 work was written between Shosta's First (1959) and Second (1966) Cello Concertos. A powerfully intense and driving Allegro molto e energico follows, where you can hear all of Alexander Rudin's virtuosity.
As the soloist raises the temperature towards the end, the second movement begins. The distinctive voice of the alto saxophone strides in, Presto marcato, before the soloist joins in its eccentric dance. Listen to how Rudin's tone seems to imitate the sax's. This is a furious and exciting movement which, even in quiet moments, exudes an atmosphere of energy and activity - much due to the presence of the soloist here.
As things quieten towards the end, the final movement begins, Andante con moto. The solo cello leads us into its serene world, still sad in tone, but reflective and peaceful now. The final moments are very very beautiful: the solo cello drifts in a magical rising and descending series of scales, like wavering aurorae in the sky. Muted trumpets call out over a haze of strings as the orchestral piano tolls once to bid farewell. Everything fades away into the sunset, molto tranquillo...
The cellist Alexander Rudin (b.1960) makes a great soloist. His fabulously expressive pizzicato is given maximum exposure in these concertos. Rudin's beautiful tone is wrought with feeling and emotion, and he brings out the virtuosity of his cadenzas with confident skill and absolutely no pretensions. Indeed, if asked to name the best thing in this CD, it is the phenomenal musicality and dedicated playing of Alexander Rudin. The performance of the Moscow SO is excellent and committed, at many moments magically evocative.
This CD proves, to me at least, that the Kabalevsky Cello Concertos deserve to be as popular as Shostakovich's. Yet another Naxos jewel.
The disc ends with the easy, 8-minute symphonic poem, Spring (Vesna, op.65). As life returns to the land, the instruments arise one by one with their solos, entering into a beautifully luscious but understated waltz. This essentially "post-Romantic" work gradually builds up towards the climax near the end, when spring arrives in its full glory. Again, the work ends quietly - a mark of a confident composer.
Chia Han-Leon
The Flying Inkpot, 1999
If the name Dmitri Kabalevsky (1904-87) brings to mind only sparkling, high-spirited pieces like The Comedians and the Violin Concerto, his cello concertos will greatly enrich your impression of his style.
The First (1949) inhabits an expressive world that masterfully blends wistful melancholy with untroubled happiness. Like Mozart and Schubert, Kabalevsky achieves this mixture in part by juxtaposing major and minor inflections of the same key within melodic phrases. Though ubiquitous, this trait occurs most memorably at the beginning of the slow movement, where the soloist crowns a majestic major arpeggio with a poignant shift to the minor.
The Second Concerto (1964), sprawlingly lyrical and dramatic à la Shostakovich, is a powerful work which, like its predecessor, employs themes that recur from one movement to the next. The symphonic poem Spring eschews both sentimentality and floods of passion for a sober but honest take on the season.
I’m quite pleased with these performances; they convey the flow and character of the music admirably. Numerous details could be cosmetically improved – in particular, soloist Rudin occasionally wanders into thickets of sour intonation, especially in cadenzas. But the drawbacks are of surprisingly little account, and should not discourage one from getting to know these appealing works at Naxos’s bragain price.
David Breckbill
BBC Music Magazine