CD Review: Maija Einfelde Violin sonatas (Magdalēna Geka, violin; Iveta Calite, piano) Skani 129

If art does not always imitate life, it can certainly echo it. For a case in point, then look no further than the Latvian composer Maija Einfelde (born 1939). As the liner notes to this release make clear, Einfelde has endured a complicated and rather winding path to the widespread acceptance of her compositions. A difficult childhood often away from her parents, then not seeing eye-to-eye with her professor at the Latvian Conservatory of Music, followed by disputes with the Composers’ Union during the Soviet years when they did pretty much everything they could to thwart her creative spirit are just three instances of obstacles that had to be overcome.

In the Latvian context, Einfelde’s three sonatas for violin and piano, plus a further sonata for solo violin, constitute an important contribution to the genre. Listening to this recording from beginning to end, a repeating characteristic jumps out – in a word, it is edginess. That is not to say that it present in every movement – if that was the case the music would risk being just one oppressive page after another, which is not the case at all. But edge is definitely central to Einfelde’s idiom, and to go back to where I began, perhaps that’s only to be expected.

The first sonata, from 1980, is in four brief contrasting movements. The first is free-flowing yet has that edge in her use of harmonics, the second is more emphatic, the third is stuck in stasis and the fourth has a yearning character.

The second sonata, written in 1985, condenses the form to three movements. The opening movement starts with dramatic flourish before it looks inwards and becomes more pensive. The middle movement is a somewhat unexpected Minuet, scored with delicacy and consummate technical knowledge. The closing movement initially appears to be a piano solo, but once the violin joins proceedings the music proceeds with amiability.  This might have captured – one conjectures – a moment of rare peace for the composer.

The third sonata, from 1990 in two movements, brings forth that edginess again. This time, it takes a different form. The first movement, played as slowly as possible, creeps inexorably to a heated pitch that excites and disturbs in equal measure. The second movement contrasts, thankfully, with a more peaceful aspect.

The solo sonata, from 1997, has Bartok’s Second Violin Sonata as its model, as Einfelde held it to be an ‘ideal’. Of the three movements the middle one is the most demanding for both player and listener – at times one might think the violinist is playing razor wire rather than strings, such is its all-encompassing forcefulness. This goes some way beyond mere edginess.

The violinist Magdalēna Geka and pianist Iveta Cālīte prove fully up to the demands of this music, both technically and in terms of its spirit. The recording is first rate, proving that Latvian music is in safe hands with the Skani label. Bring on further releases, and soon, as many treasures of the Latvian repertoire deserve a wider audience.

CD Review: Scenes from the Kalevala (Lahti SO / Dima Slobodeniouk) BIS2371

Finland’s national identity owes an enormous debt to the Kalevala, an epic poem first printed in 1835. Its influence was to bear fruit particularly in the music of Jean Sibelius; indeed, can you imagine Sibelius’ oeuvre without it? Probably not, if you’re being really honest.

It is no surprise then that a recording of four works by four composers drawing influence from the Kalevala should feature Sibelius. However, his Lemminkäinen in Tuonela is programmed third and not in it is not as you may know it, as the original 1897 version receives its first recording. Herein BIS plugs a hole as this version was omitted from their must-have 13 disc Sibelius edition.  Sibelius’ first thoughts are revealed as more expansive than his later revisions and perhaps occasionally he loses focus. Critics were scornful at the time, but the work is by no means a total dud. In reducing down the music to its essence in his later revisions, Sibelius gave it heft. Listening to the excellent Lahti Symphony Orchestra under Dima Slobodeniouk’s baton I sporadically feel the weightiness ever-so-slightly lacking too.

The three other composers recorded here are most likely not household names, well, not outside Finland at any rate, and more’s the pity. Leevi Madetoja (1887-1947) wrote his tone poem Kullervo in 1913, and drew on aspects on the Kalevala that inspired Sibelius’ work of the same name. That said, as Kimmo Korhonen makes clear in his excellent liner notes, Madetoja sought to differentiate his dramatic work from those of his compatriots. There are other recordings available – I have not heard them – but in listening to Dima Slobodeniouk’s reading, I particularly enjoy the way he draws out the individual instrumental lines in the orchestration. BIS’ demonstration quality recording aids matters no end. Uuno Klami (1900-1961) penned his five movement Kalevala Suite in 1943. Written with the express aim of putting clear water between himself and Sibelius; its starting point is nearer Stravinsky’s The Firebird and The Rite of Spring. That said, imagine it as a watercolour rather than a full-blooded oil painting in The Creation of the World movement. There’s variety in the moods too: the delicate and shaded Cradle Song for Lemminkäinen provides contrast amongst the movements that are not always of a consistent inspirational level. Tauno Pylkkänen’s ten-minute Kullervo Goes to War (1942) is an orchestral tour-de-force from a 24-year old composer who fully realises the drama of his subject. Dima Slobodeniouk and his Lahti forces revel in the power and passion to turn in a fully persuasive and enjoyable reading.

CD Review: George Walker Piano sonatas (Steven Beck, piano) Bridge 9554

George Walker (1922-2018) was, by any measure, a composer of stature. For that reason, I believe his music should not just be heard as being notable amongst that of his American compatriots, as the work of an African American (though that is often the reason many now giving it the time of day), or because Walker was the first black composer to receive a Pulitzer Prize in Music. Throughout his life Walker was commissioned by many prestigious ensembles and conductors to write for them. He was also a pianist of note – he studied under Rudolf Serkin no less – and some valuable archive recordings exist that reveal his significant talents. Anyone new to Walker’s music could do worse than to discover it through his five stylistically eclectic piano sonatas. Amazingly, the present release is the first recording of Walker’s piano sonata output – better now than never.

The five works are each individually rather brief, yet bold statements are made within them. The longest, No. 1 (1953) in three movements, is a shade under 14’30”; the shortest, No.5 (2003) in a single movement is under 5’ duration. The first two sonatas showcase Walker’s affection for employing a theme and variations model for one movement within a conventionally structured three or four-movement sonata. Along the way, there is strong writing mixed with that of gossamer delicacy. Walker recorded his first two sonatas, but the recordings are occasionally somewhat matter-of-fact; Steven Beck is rather more pliant, which suits the music well. As with most things though, it’s a matter of give and take – Walker finds more gravity in the second sonata’s fourth movement. By the sonata No. 3 (1975), Walker’s idiom had turned to freely expressed atonality – listen to how a bell tolls some 17 times in the middle movement to recapture a memory of hearing the bell in a distant Italian campanile. The sonata No. 4 (1984) is perhaps the only place you get an overt notice that this music by a black composer, with the oblique quotation of “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child” in its second movement. The sonata No.5 is reduced in form, but bears melodies of grandeur with consummate artfulness.

Pianist Steven Beck is as good a guide to George Walker’s sonatas as one could hope for; his playing possesses sensitivity of touch that illuminates the merest snatch of a phrase or differentiates the interplay between each hand, a questing sense of discovery and a keen awareness of structure. In no small part is Beck aided by the warm tone of his Steinway grand, which is faithfully recorded. As if one needs it, Ethan Iverson’s brief accompanying notes make a further heartfelt case for Walker’s music. A greater analysis of the intricacies of the structure within and influences upon the five sonatas would have been welcome in place of the thumbnail sketches that – for now – will have to suffice. That aside, the music is where it is really at. Do investigate!