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Shostakovich Discoveries

Anti-Formalist Rayok (orch. A. Pushkarev) [a];† Impromptu for viola and piano [b]; Scherzo, op. 1 (for piano) [c]; † Three Fugues for Piano [c] †; Three Fragments from the Opera The Nose [d];† Pieces for Two Violins and Piano (arr. L. Atovmyan) [e]; In the Forest [f]; Prelude and Fugue for Piano in C-sharp minor (compl. K. Meyer) [g]; Murzilka [g]; Yelabuga Nail (compl. Aleksandr Raskatov) [h] †
Alexei Mochalov (bass), Andrei Pushkarev (perc), Kremerata Baltica [a];
Nils Mönkemeyer (vla), Rostislav Krimer (pno) [b];
Daniil Trifonov (pno), Staatskapelle Dresden/Thomas Sanderling [d];
Gidon Kremer and Madara Pētersone (vlns), Georgijs Osokins (pno) [e];
Daniel Ciobanu (pno) [f];
Yulianna Avdeeva (pno) [g];
Alexander Roslavets (bass), Andrei Korobeinikov (pno) [h]
Recorded: Concert Hall of the Carl Maria von Weber University of Music, Dresden, 25 September 2014 [a] Concert Barn, Gohrisch, 24 June 2019 [b]; Greenwich, Connecticut, 29 July 2020 [c]; Concert Barn, Gohrisch, 26 June 2017 [d]; Festspielhaus Hellerau, Dresden, 27 June 2021 [e]; Concert Barn, Gohrisch, 22 June 2019 [f]; Albrechtshof, Gohrisch, 5 July 2020 [g] (Prelude and Fugue); Concert Barn, Gohrisch, 23 June 2023 [g] (Murzilka); Teldex Studio, Berlin, 2 March 2025 [h]
TT: 75:46 Deutsche Grammophon 4867190 † World premiere recordings

This release comprises a collection of works that were (mostly) premiered at the International Shostakovich Festival Gohrisch, and many (but not all) discovered in the Shostakovich Archives at the Glinka Museum in Moscow by Olga Digonskaya. To quote the CD liner notes, “Some of these performances have been world premieres, while others have been arrangements or unfinished works completed by other composers.” The earliest of the recordings here dates to 2014. In the years since some of these works were premiered at Gohrisch, other “world premiere” recordings have been released, so Shostakovich enthusiasts will certainly know of the existence, not to mention recordings, of most of these works; these will be referenced in this review where appropriate.

Anti-Formalist Rayok had its world premiere in its original version (translated into English) for bass soloist(s) and chorus with piano accompaniment in January 1989 in Washington, DC, conducted by Mstislav Rostropovich and recorded live (Erato BCD 75571, reissued on Elatus 0927-49621-2) followed shortly by its Moscow premiere in May of that year with Valery Polyanski conducting, (released by Melodiya in 2023). However, these were both performances of an earlier version of the work; a finale was discovered by Veniamin Basner in May 1989. This complete version had its premiere in Moscow on 25 September 1989, with most of the same cast as in the May premiere. Rayok was subsequently orchestrated twice: first by Boris Tishchenko, who had played piano for the premiere of the work with a single soloist, and then by Vladimir Spivakov and Vladimir Milman. Premiere recordings of these orchestrations—both, incidentally, featuring bass Alexei Mochalov, soloist on the disc under review—were made in 1995 (Triton 17 008) and 1996 (Music Masters 01612 67189-2; re-released on Capriccio 67 115 in 2004 and mistakenly dated as 2003). The Triton disc seems to be a studio derivation of the Moscow Chamber Opera production, in which, at the point that Shostakovich abandoned it, The Gamblers is halted by cultural officials entering through the hall, leading to a performance of Rayok. These two discs were reviewed in DSCH 9, where Louis Blois noted that Spivakov/Milman “makes greater use of percussion, often in a campy, music hall manner, where comic punch lines are punctuated by rim shots and the like” while in Tishchenko’s (uncredited) orchestration, “one finds a fuller, more warmly recorded presence of instrumental colour.” Blois also praised Mochalov’s “richly resonant bass … matched by a dramatic flare [sic] which is nothing short of charismatic” and his “knack for characterisation by single-handedly assuming each of the roles originally written for four basses.” The original piano version, with Fyodor Kuznetsov (bass), Yuri Serov (piano), and Yulia Khutoretskaya conducting the St. Petersburg Chamber Choir, was also released in 2003 on Delos’ compilation of Shostakovich’s songs (Delos DE 3313, DSCH 22). It should also be noted that beyond the formal recordings, performances of Rayok abound on YouTube in both the Spivakov/Milman and Tishchenko orchestrations as well as the original piano version, with performances running the gamut from university professors and their students to semi-staged professional productions. Of note among these are one conducted by Spivakov featuring bass Sergei Leiferkus; likely dating to the late 1990s as Boris Yeltsin is in attendance (https://www. youtube.com/watch?v=gcyn_Z4GvMs) and a 2016 performance of what appears to be the Tishchenko orchestration with David Tselauri singing the bass roles and Pavel Gerstein conducting (https://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=6AaDwYg6IQc).

So where does this new recording fall? As mentioned, Alexei Mochalov once again essays all the bass parts, this time with Kremerata Baltica—who also provide the voices for the chorus—in a new orchestration for strings and percussion by Andrei Pushkarev (here also the percussionist).

Mochalov had already established his bona fides as an interpreter of Rayok and he does not disappoint. Shostakovich clearly wrote the part of Yedinitsin and its accompaniment with Stalin’s style of delivery in mind, and Mochalov is on point; he hams up Dvoikin’s more operatic runs and accelerating pace through the lezginka section (again, credit to Shostakovich, who not only uses Zhdanov’s words but also his more rapid speech and belief in his own chops as a singer.) Mochalov’s Troikin in this version is a drunkard who belches and slurs, eventually turning the finale into an increasingly frenzied bender. The reduced orchestration and the use of the Kremerata Baltica as the choir also serve to bring this performance closer to the original piano version while still adding the colour of a string orchestra and percussive effects at key moments. The choir sounds musical without being overly operatic. As fun as the slapstick percussive effects and orchestration are in the Spivakov/Milman recording, they sometimes detract from the soloist; and the Tishchenko orchestration with its bombastic brass section can tilt the work towards the ominous side. If you want a performance of Rayok that allows the language and the characterisations to shine, look no further.

The Impromptu for viola and piano, from 1931, was discovered in 2017 and premiered at Gohrisch in June 2018 by violist Nils Mönkemeyer and pianist Rostislav Krimer. It has also been previously released by Matthew Lipman (DSCH 50). As originally written, this is a short work, with a single page for each instrument—per the CD booklet, 17 bars of Adagio, 20 of Allegro; the Adagio a waltz reminiscent of the romances of Glinka, and the Allegro perhaps recalling Russian dances, although John Leman Riley’s review notes some intonations that call to mind Jewish inflections. Lipman’s rendition is a straightforward performance of the two-minute-long work, played with no significant dynamic markings (although his instrument does sound wonderfully rich in its lower registers); he allows the piece to say what it will with not much in the way of personal interpretation. In contrast, Mönkemeyer plays through the work three times, with each repetition of the Adagio varying the dynamics, phrasing, and use of portamento, with the Allegro section showing a little less variation; this not only triples the length of the two-minute-long original but also creates a sense of dialogue between the two sections that is quite effective.

Pianist Daniil Trifonov supplies four pieces recorded at his home during 2020 and streamed during the lockdown days of the Covid-19 pandemic. The Scherzo, op. 1a was originally intended as the third movement of a piano sonata which Shostakovich began around the age of 15; however, the sonata was abandoned and the Scherzo orchestrated with the help of composition teacher, Maximilian Steinberg, becoming the familiar op. 1. Shostakovich performed the piano version a couple of times around 1923, after which it was largely forgotten. It was published in the New Collected Works, vol. 109 (2019) and this is the premiere performance and recording. In the opening section, Trifonov is percussive in a way familiar to anyone who has heard Shostakovich’s own piano playing, transitioning to a lyrical and expressive late-Romantic feel through the central section. The initial theme then returns less stridently, with the two themes finally coming together to conclude with an excursion into the lower registers that seems to predict future Shostakovich projects. This is a welcome and fascinating glimpse into Shostakovich’s nascent style as a pianist, making for an interesting comparison with the orchestrated version.

The three fugues, also recorded by Trifonov in June 2020, date from July 1934, and in his correspondence with Isaac Glikman and Elena Konstantinovskaya, Shostakovich described them as “a way to fill a creative vacuum” and was rather dismissive of their quality. He also started a fourth, following the same progression through the keys he would use in op. 87, but the exercise having worked, by mid-August he abandoned them and turned to the Cello Sonata. The first, in C major, is a four-part fugue, starting off slow and contemplative and building in intensity. Shostakovich felt that the more playful three-part A minor fugue was good enough to reuse in op. 87, so if it sounds familiar, it is. The fourpart G major fugue has a song-like quality, graceful and gentle. Trifonov’s phrasing and dynamics, along with the intimacy of the performance, make these pieces more than mere exercises in counterpoint; perhaps they were useful as Shostakovich began to approach composing Symphony no. 4 later that same year.

Next are three discarded orchestral pieces from The Nose, premiered by the Staatskapelle Dresden under Thomas Sanderling in Gohrisch in 2017, not long after their discovery by Levon Hakobian, who wrote about them in an article in DSCH 47. They comprise an “Entr’acte Before Kazan Cathedral” to precede the final scene of Act I, another entr’acte meant for Act II, and a third one possibly meant to open Act III. Mark FitzGerald recorded the three pieces with the Malmö Opera Orchestra (Naxos 8.574590), which Hakobian reviewed in DSCH 64, stating “To my mind, Sanderling’s rendition—commendable though it is—falls short in energy, particularly in “No. 10a”, which is performed at a noticeably sluggish tempo. In this regard, FitzGerald’s reading is more convincing thanks to its dynamic pacing and compelling expressive drive”—an opinion I largely agree with, with some caveats. Sanderling’s reading of the Kazan episode is about twenty seconds longer than Fitz-Gerald’s, largely due to the slower tempo in the second section of the piece where Hakobian notes the quotation of the romance The Nightingale; although it should be noted that Fitz-Gerald’s reading is absolutely frenetic. For me, the Sanderling recording is superior in the first half, with the organ attaining a majesty and depth in the bass register that the more nasal, treble-forward recording cannot surpass. I am sure if there actually were an organ in the Kazan Cathedral, it would sound like this. In the Act III piece, Sanderling is only slightly slower than Fitz-Gerald, who does a better job of theatricality—using the piece to establish atmosphere. As Hakobian notes, the Act II piece (10a) is slower by over a minute in Sanderling’s reading, which has more the feel of a stand-alone overture than a scene-setting piece; I’d argue that in general this seems to be the difference in approach, with Fitz-Gerald treating the pieces as transitional works within the context of the opera, while Sanderling pursues a more independent orchestral approach.

The Pieces for Two Violins and Piano (arranged by Levon Atovmyan), with violinists Gidon Kremer and Madara Petersone and Georgijs Osokins, piano, were recorded in 2021. W Mark Roberts, in DSCH 17, identified their origins (albeit that the fourth’s were then slightly mysterious, though it has since been recognised as part of the film score Love and Hate, filtered through Atovmyan’s 1960s pasticcio Choreographic Miniatures), but the notes for this recording seem not to have got the memo. That aside, these short, popular pieces receive an affecting performance that is happily free of excessive schmaltz.

In the Forest, a short piano work likely produced as a compositional exercise and dated to 1919, was premiered and recorded live at Gohrisch in June 2019 by Daniel Ciobanu. It has since received two more recordings: by Eugenio Catone (in vol. 1 of a Complete Piano Works project (Stradivarius STR37201, DSCH 57); and Nicholas Stavy (on BIS-2550, Shostakovich Works Unveiled, DSCH 58). Ciobanu’s approach is the slowest of the three, taking a more deliberate, organic approach to phrasing and dynamics in comparison to Catone or Stavy; which, along with the slower tempo, allows the short work to better set its scene. In addition, it is obvious in the recording that Ciobanu is performing in a barn; there are even snippets of birdsong, which add to the feeling of being outdoors.

The Prelude and Fugue in C-sharp minor was recorded live at Albrechtshof in Gohrisch by Yuliana Avdeeva in July 2020, and there is an alternate version in her recording of the op. 87 cycle. The Prelude exists as a sketch, originally intended for op. 87, and was completed by Krzysztof Meyer, who also added the Fugue. This discarded prelude is somewhat darker than what eventually became part of op. 87. It opens with a dotted motif; an air of anguished searching develops through the middle section, with the conclusion providing little relief. In contrast, the op. 87 prelude is much less dissonant, with runs in the upper registers like sparkling sun on water, interspersed with chorale-like episodes. The discarded work would seem to fit better stylistically in the second half of the Preludes and Fugues, where Shostakovich veered away from his Baroque models: perhaps this is why this sketch was ultimately put aside, as it would seem more at home with the higher-numbered preludes. Avdeeva also performs the following work, Murzilka, a tiny work just 22 bars long, possibly composed in 1944 for the 20th anniversary of a children’s magazine of the same name. This miniature, barely thirty seconds long, is sprightly, percussive, and dance-like.

Yelabuga Nail, the most recent and by far the weightiest recording, closes the disc. This completion of a setting for bass and piano of a poem by Yevgeny Yevtushenko, dated to 1971 (see DSCH 63 for more details), was recorded in March 2025 ahead of its performance premiere in Gohrisch, with bass Alexander Roslavets and pianist Andrei Korobeinikov. The booklet claims that the sketches “were found only a few months ago,” but as the account of the world premiere published in the Journal indicates, Sofia Khentova reported that this sketch of about four pages of music had “wedged itself into the symphonic draft” of the Fifteenth Symphony, so was known to exist. According to the booklet, Shostakovich had set four of the nine stanzas, and the work (including most of the piano accompaniment) was completed by Aleksandr Raskatov. It also reveals that Olga Digonskaya “is convinced this unfinished ballad is a precursor of the Fifteenth Symphony, […] furnishing the composer with harmonically and motivically significant material.” Notably, a six-note melody first heard in bars 5 and 6 and then throughout presages part of the solo cello line of the symphony’s second movement, and the chords that open the work evoke its final movement. Yevtushenko’s poetry is stark and unflinching; the narrator visits the house where Maria Tsvetayeva last lived, meets the old woman who owns it and sees the nail Tsvetayeva used to hang herself, which has become an object of curiosity, and the old woman begs him to take it. The music, from the massive dissonant chords that open the work like the tolling of bells, to its ending, with its lack of resolution, is equally raw in its pain and anguish. Korobeinikov makes liberal use of the pedal to evoke the ghosts that haunt the work, and Roslavets gives powerful voice to Tsvetayeva’s desperation, the violence of her final act, and the narrator’s sense of fear, knowing the true cause of her death. This is a powerful work—one that challenges the listener in a way that only Shostakovich could in his later years; Raskatov deserves a great deal of credit for deeply understanding Shostakovich’s late style; Roslavets and Korobeinikov give it the performance it deserves—a fitting conclusion to a release that has journeyed far from the satirical brilliance with which it began.

The booklet includes translations of the texts of Anti-Formalist Rayok and Yelabuga Nail into English and German; a Russian transliteration might have been useful. The booklet also contains short notes on each piece in both English and German. The notes on AntiFormalist Rayok have some significant errors (the work was not written in 1948; although it may have been started then, it was not completed until the 1960s), omissions (the texts are built around actual speeches by Stalin and Zhdanov), and baffling assertions (nowhere in Shostakovich’s libretto is Soviet Realism “exposed as a commercial form of folk art directed at tourists”) but for the shorter works prove sufficient, if not as detailed as one might like.

Susan Carroll-Clark

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Silenced

Shostakovich Violin Concerto no. 1; Theme and Variations, op. 3; Bosmans, Concert Piece for Violin and Orchestra

Silenced Shostakovich, Violin Concerto no. 1, op. 77; Bosmans, Concert Piece for Violin and Orchestra, Shostakovich, Theme and Variations, op. 3 Hyeyoon Park (vln). WDR Sinfonieorchester/Gergely Madaras Recorded, Kölner Philharmonie, Germany. 26–30 August 2024 Linn Records. CKD772
TT: 73:01

This release may well fall into the “sleeper” category, in not immediately drawing the praise and attention it so richly deserves. Violinist Hyeyoon Park has been gaining international recognition since 2009 when, aged 17, she became the youngest ever winner of Munich’s ARD International Music Competition. She is not known as a Shostakovich interpreter. Yet the depths to which she immerses herself in the brooding First Violin Concerto are impressive, as is her performance of the formidable Concert Piece for Violin and Orchestra by the noted 20th century Dutch composer, Henriëtte Bosmans (1895–1952).

The programme is completed with a rarely performed student work by Shostakovich, the Theme and Variations.

Silenced, the title of the release, refers to the oppressive political climates endured by the two composers during and after the Second World War. In Shostakovich’s case it was the onset of the Zhdanovshchina, Stalin’s 1948 campaign to cleanse music of what he perceived as “formalist distortions and anti-democratic tendencies.” Shostakovich was forced to withhold the concerto’s premiere until October 1955, two and a half years after Stalin’s death. In Bosmans’ case it was the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands during the war years and her refusal to join the prevailing Chamber of Culture that led to the banning of her works from the concert hall. Silenced therefore refers most poignantly to the plights of both composers and the works in question.

Repertoire does not get more challenging than Shostakovich’s First Violin Concerto, one of the darkest works of the classical literature. One of the earliest recordings, featuring its dedicatee, David Oistrakh, as soloist, and Yevgeny Mravinsky leading the Leningrad PO, set a high standard of interpretation by conveying a strong sense of identification with the work’s mood of oppression and introspection within a highly personal style. The best of the dozens of recordings of the work that have been issued since share these essential elements of interpretation.

Hyeyoon Park’s nuanced phrasing throughout this concerto gives her performance its distinctive edge, drawing the listener in with a deeply internalised connection to the music. The WDR Sinfonieorchester under Gergely Madaras provides dedicated support on all counts. Curiously, the soloist’s proximity to the microphone in this recording is noticeably less forward than what one usually encounters, and the diametric opposite of violinist Sasha Rozhdestvensky’s recording (Alliance NI6123, issued 2010), in which the microphone is placed so intrusively close as to undermine any sense of subtlety or finesse. But with Hyeyoon Park, the placement is somewhat off to the side, and yet just near enough. The effect of this is to complement and enhance the introspective tone of the interpretation, an impression that is especially prevalent in the quieter passages of both the “Nocturne” and the “Passacaglia,” where at times it sounds as if Ms. Park is whispering, sharing secrets with the listener. Such an impression falls exceptionally well within the work’s historical context and within the album’s titular theme of Silenced. In addition to this confessional quality, Ms. Park also brings out a convincing element of pain and agony in both these movements without lapsing into excess. The extended pauses she takes in the cadenza make an arresting impact. Again, the WDR Sinfonieorchester is in full support of Ms. Park’s sensitive and engaging response to the music Another notable recording of recent vintage (2024) is with the Bochumer Symphoniker, led by Tung-Chieh Chuang (with Prokofiev’s First Concerto on Channel Classics CCS45924) with soloist Ning Feng, who, with somewhat heavy vibrato, brings a grippingly visceral realisation to the concerto, with a sturdily expressive line, strong atmospheric notes, and powerful crescendos. Without lapsing into excess, Feng’s physical engagement with the cadenza captures the music’s emotional struggles with enraptured muscularity.

Two recordings of 2025 stand out for what may be the longest performances on record, i.e., those with the broadest tempos taken, notably in the slow movements. One is with violinist Alexandra Tirsu with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra under Vasily Petrenko (coupled to the Hindemith on Fuga Libera FUG859). Tirsu’s attention to detail and her expressive intensity in the opening “Nocturne” have their merits, though the general mood is a tad too morbid. Her extroverted tone in the “Passacaglia” and cadenza unfortunately lacks the introspective quality the music calls for; and the hyperactive pitch of the two fast movements, the “Scherzo” and final “Burlesque,” further compromise the overall impression of this rendition.

The other performance in this category is the recent one by Baiba Skride. This is Skride’s second recording of the work, the first being a fairly decent interpretation—coupled to Janáček’s lesser performed concerto—from 2006 with the Münchner Philharmoniker under Mikko Franck (Sony 82876731462). In her most recent version, finally together with Shostakovich’s Second, issued in 2025, with Andris Nelsons and the Boston Symphony Orchestra (DG 4866946), she returns to the work with a daring new approach. While the tempos of the classic 1956 Oistrakh/ Mravinsky version in the “Nocturne” are one-third slower than the score’s indications, Skride’s second version in this movement clocks in at another third slower again, leading to what may be the slowest paced reading on record. The impact of this broadly conceived “Nocturne” is, if nothing else, stunning, with crescendos that rise with strength to spare. The majestic opening of the “Passacaglia” leads to a mournful, well-engaged conflict, a deeply moving exploration of the concerto’s emotional centre, here and in the following cadenza. For all its strengths, some may find Skride’s revisionist approach a little too submerged in gloom. Yet the conviction and boldness of the conception merits attention.

Two other recordings released in 2025 worth mentioning are those of soloist Rachel Barton Pine with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra under Tito Muñoz, coupled to Earl Maneein’s Dependent Arising on Cedille (DSCH 61), and soloist Daniel Matejča with the Prague Radio Symphony Orchestra under Tomáš Netopil (with Prokofiev’s First on Supraphon SU43702). Each delivers earnest, energetic, compassionate performances.

Henriëtte Bosmans (1895–1952) stands among the most significant Dutch composers of the first half of the 20th century. From her concert debut at age 20, she became internationally recognised as both a concert pianist and a composer, with an impressive catalogue of compositions in almost every genre. That list includes two cello concertos and a Poème for cello and orchestra, a Concertino for Piano and Orchestra, a string quartet, and a wide variety of other orchestral and chamber works that encompass songs and works for solo piano. Her music boasts lyrical and expressive vitality, and is well-represented on this disc with the 20-minute Concert Piece for Violin and Orchestra, written in 1934. Her fiancé, the violinist Francis Koene, died in January of that year, just prior to their planned marriage. The grief of that experience is captured in the three movements of the piece, taking us from impassioned confrontation to contemplative reflection to a final resolution of strength and determination. All the lyrical material in the work is derived from a single theme dramatically stated at the outset. Hyeyoon Park and the WDR Sinfonieorchester take on the theme’s various transformations with all the introspective depth and declarative strength called for.

The final piece on the programme is a rarely heard student work by the teenage Shostakovich, the 16-minute Theme and Variations, op. 3, which has entered the catalogue just three times: under Rozhdestvensky (DSCH 11), Botstein (DSCH 23) and Gimeno with the Orchestre Philharmonique de Luxembourg (Pentatone). It was written in 1921–22 for full orchestra and dedicated “To the Bright memory of Nikolai Alexandrovich Sokolov.” Sokolov, who died in 1922, provided Shostakovich with lessons in counterpoint and fugue as a faculty member of the St. Petersburg Conservatoire. He was also a revered member of the Belyayev Circle, a group that upheld the aesthetic values of the Mighty Five in Russian music. Though Shostakovich disparaged the “sacred traditions” of Rimsky-Korsakov and the all-too-conservative agenda then prevailing at the Conservatoire, the Theme and Variations pays unapologetic tribute to those very traditions, no doubt as acknowledgment to its dedicatee. The work would make a provocative guess-the-composer challenge, its stylistic fingerprints being only vaguely suggestive of the fully blossomed Shostakovich. The conspicuous appearance of the rhythmic anapest in a few of the variations may stand as the most prominent association. Otherwise, the gentle theme and its eleven colourful variations have all the earmarks of an academic exercise. They display a winsome grasp of thematic invention and orchestration by the 16-year-old composer, totally free of the ambiguities and diatonic departures that would soon define his mature style.

In sum, three gemstones grace this disc: a very notable performance of the First Violin Concerto and a rarely recorded student work of Shostakovich’s and a significant selection from the catalogue of Henriëtte Bosmans, which for some may be the launching pad for further exploration of this distinguished Dutch composer. All are presented in superb performances and are well worth having as part of a collection.

Louis Blois

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Violin Sonata: Original and Orchestrated Versions

Sonata for Violin and Piano; Krzysztof Meyer: Sonata for Violin and Orchestra

Shostakovich: Sonata for Violin and Piano, op. 134 [a]; Krzysztof Meyer: Sonata for Violin and Orchestra, op. 86 [b]* Magdalena Rezler (vln) [a,b], Aziz Kortel (pno) [a], Polish National Radio Symphony Orchestra in Katowice/Michał Klauza [b] Recorded at the Concert Hall of the Hochschule für Musik in Freiburg im Breisgau, Germany, 2010 (day/month not reported) [a]; Grzegorz Fitelberg Concert Hall of the Upper Silesian Culture Centre in Katowice, 27 January 2010 [b] *World premiere recording
TT: 63:27 DUX 2137

For nearly half a century, Krzysztof Meyer has periodically placed his compositional talents in the service of Shostakovich’s legacy. In 1980/81, Meyer undertook the completion of the abandoned opera The Gamblers (Capriccio 60 Sonata for Violin and Orchestra 062-2, DSCH 9). The following decade saw him create Au-delà d’une absence, a complete string quartet in the style of Shostakovich inspired by a short motif the ailing composer had picked out on piano for his young Polish friend at their final meeting—I praised the Eliot Quartett’s recent recording (GENUIN 25919) in DSCH 64. In 2019/20, Meyer completed Shostakovich’s discarded sketch for a Prelude in C-sharp minor and invented a companion Fugue. Yulianna Avdeeva’s world premiere recital of this diptych at the 2020 International Shostakovich Festival in Gohrisch appears on the Shostakovich Discoveries album reviewed in this issue (Deutsche Grammophon 486 7190), and her 2025 revisit wraps up her Pentatone set of the Twenty-four Preludes and Fugues (PTC 5187 480, DSCH 64).

The present new release from DUX Recording Producers gives us the premiere recording of yet another rework by Meyer of a Shostakovich score, namely an orchestration of the Violin Sonata. In his booklet notes, Meyer describes the genesis of his reimagining and some of the pitfalls he felt he had to avoid:

In the autumn of 1995, the distinguished violinist Dmitry Sitkovetsky approached me with the idea of arranging this Sonata for violin and orchestra. He explained: “I already have both Shostakovich concertos in my repertoire. I’ve performed and recorded them many times, but unfortunately he didn’t write a third. If you decided to orchestrate the Sonata, I’d finally have my longedfor Third Concerto.” The suggestion sounded very appealing, although I wasn’t entirely convinced, because in the history of music only a few transcriptions have managed to enrich the sound of the original and add new qualities to it (a unique example in this respect is Musorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition for piano, which Ravel’s masterful orchestration transformed into a sparkling symphonic work full of orchestral colour).

Orchestrating a piano work for a large ensemble presents several challenges. The sense of time flows differently in a solo work than in an orchestral work. Music that sounds and unfolds naturally in a duet may feel overstretched in an orchestral setting. Conversely, what sounds natural on the piano may feel too fast when played at the same tempo by an orchestra. The unique sound of the piano often means that attempts to transfer such repertoire to an ensemble of other instruments are likely to fail from the outset; for example, not a single orchestral transcription of a Chopin piece does justice to the original. In Shostakovich’s Sonata, the virtuoso piano cadenza presents a similarly daunting challenge. As with Chopin, this cadenza is so intimately linked to the sound of the piano that it’s hard to imagine it being played by an orchestra. And how could the opening theme, played by the solo violin, be adapted for a larger ensemble, where the soloist plays music of extraordinary rhythmic simplicity over several bars, articulated only by single pizzicato notes?

These and many other challenges presented by the Sonata have led me to make a number of changes and adjustments in the orchestration process. I have made some cuts in the outer movements. I added new voices to the first theme of the finale, counterpointing the original. The aforementioned piano cadenza was transformed into a symphonic passage specifically tailored for an orchestra. I was very grateful to both the soloist and the composer’s widow, Irina Antonovna Shostakovich, for agreeing to these changes.

Christened Sonata for Violin and Orchestra, Meyer’s arrangement premiered on 20 June 1996 at the Seattle International Music Festival, with Sitkovetsky joined by the New European Strings under Lynn Harrell. Subsequent opportunities to hear this orchestration have been scant: present company aside, the only past performance listed by Boosey & Hawkes is a 2018 Finnish concert. At the time of writing, the Sonata for Violin and Orchestra is scheduled to receive its German premiere on 28 June at this year’s Gohrisch Festival, courtesy of Vadim Gluzman and the Sächsische Staatskapelle Dresden led by Ingo Metzmacher.

Although he commissioned Meyer’s orchestration, Dmitry Sitkovetsky has not played it since the world premiere, and at the moment has no plans to perform or record it. Instead, the Sonata for Violin and Orchestra had to wait nearly 15 years for the honour of first (and thus far only) recording to fall on violinist Magdalena Rezler—like Meyer, a Pole who has resided in Germany since her mid-forties. Similarly, while it was Sitkovetsky who first performed Meyer’s Violin Concerto no. 2, composed in 1996 and dedicated to him, Rezler is the sole violinist to have recorded that kaleidoscopic, bracingly chromatic work (DUX 0594).

In her 2010 recording of the Sonata for Violin and Orchestra, Rezler is joined by the Polish National Radio Symphony Orchestra in Katowice conducted by Michał Klauza. Per Meyer’s score, these orchestral forces comprise the standard strings and woodwinds, French horns, harp, and a menagerie of percussion: tambourine, bongos, tom-tom, snare drum, tam-tam, glockenspiel, xylophone, vibraphone, marimba, and celesta.

Meyer’s arrangement turns out to be more of a Fantasia on Shostakovich’s Violin Sonata than a straightforward orchestration. He tinkers endlessly with the narrative—an inversion here, an excision there, even wholesale inventions grafted in (though always in a Shostakovichian idiom). The opening of the final movement spends nearly a minute riffing on themes of Meyer’s own design before getting back to Shostakovich’s material, and mutations abound thereafter.

Even where he maintains the original plot, Meyer isn’t content to let the violin line stand as Shostakovich wrote it for very long. Midway through a familiar monologue, the soloist’s notes might be yanked away and handed to such an unlikely appropriator as the bassoon. Elsewhere, the celesta might briefly jump in to shadow the violin in canon, or the piccolo might embellish with blood-curdling shrieks.

Only rarely do the orchestral percussion instruments stand in for the piano, one such exception being the cresting quaver runs in the second movement from two measures after Fig. 37 in the original score (2:01), which are adopted by the xylophone. Instead, the strings bear nearly all of the piano’s burden, with the other orchestral sections mainly adding local colour.

Rezler and the Katowice orchestra play with conviction, but with so many radical tweaks to Shostakovich’s score, Sonata for Violin and Orchestra proved to be a profoundly disorienting experience no matter how many times I listened. I confess that now the job of reviewing is done, it’s unlikely I’ll return to it anytime soon. Perhaps listeners who aren’t as familiar with the original might better appreciate Meyer’s efforts here.

More to my taste is the 2005 arrangement of op. 134 for violin, percussion, and string orchestra by violinist Michail Zinman and percussionist Andrei Pushkarev. This version hews to the original storyline, and I find many of its orchestral translations more persuasive than Meyer’s. A case in point is the piano’s right-hand open-fifth ostinato in the first movement at Fig. 22 in the original score, which follows chilling tremolos. Meyer assigns this motif to xylophone, flutes, oboes, and clarinet, rendering it bright and flippant (q.v. 10:18 in Track 4 on DUX). In contrast, Zinman and Pushkarev entrust it to wood block and staccato violins, yielding a deeper, hollow sound suggestive of knocking—perhaps of fate, perhaps of an unwelcome visitor at the door, but disturbing in any case, and thus more in keeping with the unsettling mood established by the preceding tremolos (7:57 in Track 1 on DG). Shostakovich employed the wood block across his late oeuvre, including in his last three symphonies, Cello Concerto no. 2, and the Suite on Verses of Michelangelo Buonarroti, sometimes to suggest ominous tapping, other times to dance a skeleton’s jig. Thus, its application to the Violin Sonata orchestration is certainly period-appropriate.

Deutsche Grammophon’s premiere recording of the Zinman–Pushkarev arrangement with Gidon Kremer serving as soloist and director of his Kremerata Baltica is still the one to go for (DG 477 6196), as the playing leaves nothing to be desired and the digital-only release of a 2018 concert by Sebastian Bohren with Camerata Zürich conducted by Igor Karsko is afflicted by boomy acoustics (Sony Classical G010003984125M). In DSCH 39, I described the climax of the last movement in Kremer’s recording as “nothing short of aural napalm” and the recording overall as mandatory for any serious Shostakovich collector, an opinion that the intervening years haven’t altered.

To accompany the premiere recording of the Sonata for Violin and Orchestra, DUX have exhumed another Rezler performance dating back to 2010: Shostakovich’s Violin Sonata in its original guise. Here Rezler collaborates with Turkish pianist Aziz Kortel, with whom she shares a longstanding association as chamber music partner and faculty colleague at Hochschule für Musik Freiburg.

In the first movement, Kortel progresses with clear-eyed jauntiness, contrasting with Rezler’s often reticent and occasionally feathery enunciation. While her playing is technically assured for the most part, her bow commits an unsanctioned double stop in the measure following Fig. 4/1:26. The second movement is dispatched with requisite ferocity, my main quibble being that Rezler underplays her glissandi. While Kortel continues to provide steady support throughout the last movement, tentativeness and tonal instability creep into Rezler’s contribution.

Unfortunately, I find that this performance of the original Violin Sonata errs on the side of the prosaic, missing that sense of incorporeality, of a glimpse beyond, that surfaces intermittently in the account from Natalia Prishepenko and Dina Ugorskaja (CAvi 8553425, DSCH 59) and that permeates the outer movements in the recital from Shlomo Mintz and Viktoria Postnikova (Elatus 0927-49554-2, deleted). Special mention in this regard goes to the Passacaglia album from Pavel Berman (playing a Stradivarius once owned by David Oistrakh) and Maria Meerovitch, who combine an unflinching gaze with subtle characterisation of each of this work’s diverse elements (Orchid Classics ORC 100262, coupled with Respighi’s Violin Sonata in B minor). Anyone seeking to explore the mysterious, cryptic dimensions of op. 134 should not overlook that 2023 recording.

Overall, then, this new DUX release earns a qualified welcome. Completists need not hesitate, but I’d recommend others sample before buying.

W Mark Roberts