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11 of 11 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Must-have Shostakovich, interesting Schnittke,
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This review is from: Shostakovich, Schnittke: works for viola, Antoine Tamestit (Audio CD)
Late 2007 I passed through Berlin, taking the opportunity to attend a concert featuring the rarely played Schnittke viola concerto. Conductor laureate Serge Baudo accompanied a soloist whose name was at that time totally unknown to me: Antoine Tamestit. I had no idea what to expect. From the very first bars into the introductory Largo, however, I was hooked. It proved to be an utterly memorable performance which made me leave the concert hall during the break. Being drenched with this incredibly poignant music I couldn't face the prospect of submitting to another batch of French symphonic classics. No doubt, Tamestit had made his mark. Amazing how such a frisky young man could take the measure of such a complex and emotionally challenging score! What good news then when I learned that he had recorded the Schnittke concerto on the Ambroisie label.
This concerto is anything but a virtuoso showpiece. Its musical argument is deeply serious and truly symphonic in breadth. In its monumental slow finale and generally darkly hued orchestration - there are no violins in the orchestra - it connects back to the sombre soundscapes of Shostakovich's Tenth symphony. Its angularity and rowdy polystilism reinforce the atmosphere of despair that pervades this whole piece. There are surprisingly few recordings in the catalogue. Before listening to Tamestit, I had acquainted myself with the classic recording by Yuri Bashmet (dedicatee of the concerto) and the more recent interpretations by Isabelle Van Keulen (Koch-Schwann) and Kim Kashkashian (ECM). There is another recording with Nobuki Imai (BIS) which I haven't heard. I could certainly live with the very fine Bashmet recording but my favourite disc is the one with Van Keulen who attacks the score with a raw, very womanly intensity. She is matched by the Philarmonia Orchestra's inspired accompaniment under the baton of (well known cello soloist) Heinrich Schiff. Despite my enthusiasm for the live performance, I find it difficult to make up my mind about Tamestit's recording. I believe it is very different from what I heard that evening in the Berlin Konzerthaus. It also sets itself apart from competing interpretations. Van Keulen grabs you by the throath, there is no escaping. Tamestit presents us with a far less expressionistic version of the score. Bashmet, with his serious, aristocratic mien is perhaps somewhere in the middle. In the Ambroisie recording everything contributes to a generally more poised and reflective mood. To start with, tempos are marginally slower than in other versions. For example, Tamestit takes 16'11 for the finale against 15'43 for Van Keulen (and only 13'55 for Kashkashian). His Allegro is a full minute slower than Van Keulen's. Then the sonic perspective offered by the Ambroisie engineers is certainly realistic. It's as if one is sitting somewhere in the middle of a large concert hall, with the Warsaw Philarmonic (conducted by Dmitri Kitajenko) slightly recessed behind the soloist. The result is a generally less incisive sound picture in which orchestral details are slightly blurred by the hall's acoustic environment. For example, the 14 staccato fortissimo blows we hear in the finale are dampened in this recording and hence they lose some of the menacing, fateful quality they might have. And then there is the soloist. Tamestit coaxes a very luminous, burnished tone from his instrument. His lines are clean, suffused by an almost Cartesian sense of clarity. His viola never groans or barks, it always sings. There is never any doubt that Tamestit has the full measure of the score. He presents the music authoritatively, but in a more self-possessed, controlled way than his colleagues. His remarks in the accompanying booklet point in the same direction. About the finale Tamestit holds forth that " ... Schnittke now explores the depth of sound and intervals and we come to the core of the feelings he is trying to convey. It is still violent, still frightening, still screaming in anguish, but it's human and not out of proportion ..." This sense of proportion seems to pervade Tamestit's whole conception of this piece. Although it is refreshingly different, it strikes me as slightly un-Schnittkean and I must confess not to be totally sure that it provides an equally compelling listening experience. Probably only time and repeated listening will tell. However, I have no doubts whatsoever regarding the accompanying piece on this disc, the Shostakovich viola sonata, which receives a truly brilliant performance from the hands of Tamestit and his accompanist Markus Hadulla. In a way coupling the Schnittke with the Shostakovich sonata is obvious, given their similar Largo-Allegro-Largo structure and the elegiac mood pervading both compositions (the sonata proved to be Shostakovich's last work; he died soon afterwards). However, what strikes as possibly self-conscious in the Schnittke works exceedingly well in the sonata. Tamestit's clean lines, limited rubato and precise attacks lend weight to every note in this sparsely textured piece. He plays it fairly fast. He is even 6' faster than Bashmet (on an RCA disc, accompanied by Mikhail Muntian)! Despite the relatively brisk tempos, the music has time to breath and strikes me as extremely poised and meditative. The second movement - with its klezmer-like intimations and its chilling modulations into the wry and sarcastic - is delivered with panache. But Tamestit plays wonderfully open and layered, poignantly mixing the surface bravura with wistfulness and pain. The long, meandering final movement is that celebrated meditation on Beethoven's opening of the "Mondschein" sonata. Here Hadulla's piano accompaniment is almost as impressive as Tamestit's supremely sensitive solo contribution. Despite the sparseness of the textures, the piano is alive, authoritatively present, gently inspiring confidence like an old friend. Hadulla has a wonderful command of the pedal. He shares Tamestit's penchant for clarity but he is also able to suffuse his notes' sharp contours with the most delicate sfumato. The recording is absolutely stellar, with both piano and viola captured exceedingly lifelike and naturally, surrounded with a pleasing sense of space. This definitely adds to the excitement of the reading. The musicians have a tangible presence and one can sense the performance unfolding between them. Boris Tishenko, former pupil of Shostakovich, thought the "programme" of this sonata was a supreme confirmation of love and human warmth. Love not as an abstract idea but as this most heart-stopping feeling of tenderness, this ephemeral tension between deep gratitude and an inescapable sense of loss and mortality. This is what these two young musicians have captured in this performance. This is music that cannot be enjoyed casually. It demands to be heard with full attention. A great recording.
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