After just having seen the Jupiter Players last week, I went on Monday to another of their afternoon recitals at Good Shepherd Church. On this occasion, they performed an all-Russian program that included works by Tchaikovsky, Borodin and Medtner.
The program opened with Borodin's String Quintet in F minor (1859-1860) for two violins, viola and two cellos. Borodin holds a solid place in the history of Russian music due to his membership in The Five (a/k/a The Mighty Handful), a group of composers that also included Mussorgsky and Rimsky-Korsakov, whose aim was the rejection of European styles of music in favor of those of their own country. To the extent that Borodin is known at all in the West, it's mainly for the Polovtsian Dances from the end of Act II of the opera Prince Igor. But he also wrote a number of noteworthy chamber works, the most famous of which is In the Steppes of Central Asia. I'd always admired that piece for its exoticism and so was very interested in hearing the present string quintet. Like Schubert's famous Quintet in C major, this work doubles the cello rather than the viola. In Borodin's case, this was not surprising as he was himself a cellist. Though closer to European models than was In the Steppes, the quintet still had running through it a strong undercurrent of Slavic music.
The next work was Tchaikovsky's Variations on a Rococo Theme, Op. 33 (1876-1877). The composer was well known for the insecurity he expressed throughout his career regarding his own music. This was never so true as when he composed for the cello, an instrument with which he had no familiarity whatsoever. When he finally decided to write an orchestral piece that featured the cello as solo instrument - he never wrote a full scale concerto - he was more than a little apprehensive in approaching it. His lack of self-confidence was most evident in his decision to seek help from his associate at the Moscow Conservatory, Wilhelm Fitzhagen. to whom the work was dedicated. But if Tchaikovsky was filled with self doubt, the cellist was sure of himself to the point of arrogance. Though he played the work as Tchaikovsky had written it at its 1877 premiere in Moscow, when it came time to submit the work for publication Fitzhagen took it upon himself to thoroughly revise the piece without having first consulted with the composer about the changes he demanded be made. And these were substantial. The cellist not only rewrote the solo part but changed the order of the variations and eliminated one of them altogether. Even the coda was altered. The publisher was horrified and promptly wrote to Tchaikovsky:
"Horrible Fitzenhagen insists on changing your cello piece. He wants to 'cello' it up and he claims you gave him permission. Good God! Tchaikovsky revu et corrigé par Fitzenhagen!"
In spite of the publisher's objections and Tchaikovsky's own reservations, it was the Fitzhagen score that became the standard version. It was not until 1941, again in Moscow, that the composer's original score was finally played as written. At yesterday's performance, an arrangement by David Stromberg for cello and winds (flute, oboe, horn, bassoon and clarinet) was substituted in place of the full score for reduced orchestra.
I have seen David Requiro, the soloist on the Tchaikovsky piece, many times over the course of the past few seasons. He is a regular with the Jupiter Players and has always excelled as a member of the ensemble. In Monday, his exceptionally fine playing brought the piece to life as he masterfully explored the nuances of Tchaikovsky's score. He truly deserved the enthusiastic standing ovation he received at the end of his performance.
After intermission, the program continued with two selections, October and November, from Tchaikovsky's The Seasons, Op. 37a (1875). Although the work exists in a number of arrangements, at this recital the two short pieces were expertly played on solo piano by the remarkable Russian pianist Alexander Kobrin, winner of the 2005 Van Cliburn Competition and a former student of Lev Naumov at the Moscow Conservatory. The two pieces were simple and understated, and perhaps for that very reason conveyed a powerful emotional impact. As appropriate to the season they depicted, they were filled with a sense of gentle melancholy.
The afternoon ended with a performance of Medtner's Piano Quintet in C major, Op. post. (1903-1949). This was the piece I'd really come to hear. Though I'd heard Medtner's name mentioned many times over the years, I 'd never before had an opportunity to hear his music. The quintet seemed the best place to start since almost every source I came across invariably referred to it as the "summation" of Medtner's life work. I certainly didn't know what to expect of a piece that the composer had worked on and revised over the course of more than 45 years and then had died before ever having heard it performed publicly. (He did manage to record the piece, though, shortly before his death.) It turned out to be completely unique, unlike anything I had heard before - often wildly romantic, at times mystical, and totally impassioned throughout. Medtner was a virtuoso pianist (all his many compositions feature this instrument), and the piano part he wrote here was intricate and demanding. I came away with a very high regard for this three movement piece. It definitely deserves to heard more often.
All in all, this was an excellent chamber recital that featured great works, two of which, the Borodin and Medtner, are too rarely performed considering their originality and high quality. As far as I was concerned, this was the best recital the Jupiter Players have given so far this season; all the musicians involved displayed deep commitment to the music and incredible talent.
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