In my enthusiasm for Tishchenko's Second Violin Concerto (Olympia/Conifer (CD) OCD123, 12/88) I ventured to say that by comparison his First Cello Concerto paled into insignificance. That doesn't mean that the latter is not a fine piece, however, merely that as the work of a composer in his early twenties it is understandably a little less finished and a little less bold.

The Cello Concerto dates from the time of Tishchenko's postgraduate studies with Shostakovich, and it won a first prize at the Prague Spring of 1966. Shostakovich was so taken with it that he made his own orchestration — "I don't think he was terribly pleased, but the work gave me nothing but benefit and pleasure" as we read in Testimony. Tishchenko's admiration for his teacher is much in evidence, whether in the long opening monologue for the solo cello, or in the insistent repeated figures which burn themselves into the listener's brain later on, or, especially, in the brooding, splintering, or mask-like passages which provide points of structural punctuation in the 25-minute single movement. But the similarities represent genuine spiritual kinship, rather than imitation or dependence; at least the strong profile and implicative force of Tishchenko's themes point towards that conclusion.

The orchestra consists of 17 wind, percussion and organ (which sounds more like a harmonium to my ears); in his orchestration Shostakovich eliminated the brass and added strings, perhaps gaining one or two textural ideas for the Fourteenth Symphony he worked on immediately afterwards. This undoubtedly benefited the final pages, where the long held chords are uncomfortable as originally scored for wind, and one or two lyrical lines for the brass were certainly improved on, but otherwise Tishchenko's scoring is perfectly convincing (unorthodox ensembles seem to appeal to him—the Second Cello Concerto is accompanied by 48 cellos, 12 double-basses and percussion). Both versions have been recorded, the original by Rostropovich on Melodiya CM011805/6 (which I have not heard), Shostakovich's orchestration on Melodiya C10 22267 009. On the new Schwann recording of the original, Boris Pergamenshikov is a passionate and commanding soloist, sympathetic to all the varying moods of the music, and the orchestral support is more than adequate.

Glazunov's Concerto ballata is a product of his final years in Parisian exile, when the creative spark had long since vanished but the craftsmanship remained undiminished. Its pale melancholy is rather touching, and there is more than a whiff of Elgar in some of the ideas. The "Melodie" and "Serenade espagnole" slip easily in one ear and out the other, making few demands on the interjacent faculties. But bravo to Schwann for devising such an interesting and unhackneyed coupling; I feel more and more that Tishchenko is a composer we should hear much more of in the West—his Akhmatova Requiem, another favourite of Shostakovich's and, according to the Schwann sleeve-note, recently released from official cold storage, is a particularly intriguing prospect.

David J. Fanning
Gramophone, February 1989