The Stuart-Ivanov Duo Revealing Roslavets

BY ROBERT MAXHAM

Carolyn Stuart and Svetozar Ivanov’s recital of music by Nikolai Roslavets, a Russian composer who’d been branded, punished, exiled, and forgotten by the Soviet government, gives an account of his recently discovered works for violin and piano. Since Alina Ibragimova has recorded the composer’s violin concertos, this disc provides a perfect complement to that program. When I spoke with Stuart about the project, I asked how the duo became aware of Roslavets.

“I actually found Roslavets quite by accident. In the fall of 1998, Svetozar [now Stuart’s husband] and I, who had just met that summer, were searching for repertoire to complete the program of our first recital together, browsing through the stacks at the University of Michigan library. We ran across a book by Larry Sitsky, Music of the Repressed Russian Avant-Garde from 1994, and I was intrigued by a chapter about Roslavets subtitled The Russian Schoenberg . I searched for recordings of his music and found the 24 Preludes with violinist Mark Lubotsky. I was instantly captivated, and Svetozar and I started researching everything we could find; we ordered everything that was published for violin and piano and started performing short works. We had noticed in the scores and CDs that Marina Lobanova, one of the pre-eminent Roslavets scholars, had edited some of the works. We contacted her and were thrilled to visit her in Hamburg, where she shared much of her knowledge about Roslavets, his life, and Russian culture. We were curious about some of the works that we knew existed but had not been able to find; she put us in touch with the president of Schott, who sent us copies of manuscripts that had not yet been published—some of which are on this CD.” Which is how it happens to include some premieres! “Exactly. And we owe that to her.”

How important was Roslavets? “This remains to be seen. He was certainly one of the most important composers for the violin during his lifetime in Russia. Sadly, though, because of the government’s repression, his music was virtually unknown until the 1990s. The violin concerti are quite wonderful, and now that there is an available piano reduction of the First, I am hoping more violinists will be attracted to it. It is exciting to see fabulous recordings of Roslavets’s music emerging, because the goal now is to make it accessible to the public. I believe that, given the chance, his music will endure the test of time.”

Roslavets’s pieces sound very well written for the instrument (Roslavets himself played the violin). Is the idiomatic impression they give an accurate one? “That’s a good question. I think the very beautiful, long lines and the lyrical aspect of his music create that impression of very idiomatic violin writing. The lyricism makes it a joy to play: It is lush and soaring—and fulfilling for me as a violinist. There are, however, some chords that are quite awkward. Everything is possible, but not always very handy. Also, scores from the height of his experimental stage—from about 1917 to 1924—can be very cumbersome to read at times because of his harmonic system, requiring transpositions that he follows literally. Consequently, the music is often full of double Ts and double Is, which do not necessarily make the technique more difficult but can slow the process of deciphering the score. I suspect that some musicians may be deterred when browsing through the music, knowing that it may take hours just to figure it out.” But Stuart wasn’t deterred. “I had the advantage of hearing a few recordings before I saw any scores, which was fortunate; I knew already how natural it sounded.”

I’ve heard a story about Shostakovich sleeping on the stairs of his building while he worked on the Fifth Symphony so that the police wouldn’t disturb his family if they came to take him, and I wondered whether Roslavets’s exile might actually have been easier because it removed him from close government scrutiny. Are you better off hidden away? “Roslavets fared much better than many artists who were sent to Siberia or executed. But his music was completely banned, and his name was removed from all historical accounts. In that sense, his fate was worse than Shostakovich’s. Much of his music was destroyed, he changed his style under the pressure, and abandoned his ‘system’ altogether. Although he claimed that these ‘experiments’ were no longer relevant to him, it was clear he had succumbed to the establishment. He had been excited about the communist ideas like so many avant-garde artists at that time, and he was very much involved in Soviet artistic life from 1917 to 1924. In the cases of both Shostakovich and Roslavets, we’ll never really know their true political allegiances.”

Roslavets had created his own system (hence, the “Russian Schoenberg”). How closely did it approach Schoenberg’s? “He called his compositional technique ‘A New System of Sound Organization,’ which was centered on what he called the ‘synthetic chord.’ This chord was a collection of six to nine pitches that served as the basis for the pitch material in a section or movement. The pitch order was free, notes could be repeated, and the collection could also be transposed to any degree of the chromatic scale. It generated both harmony and melody. Roslavets developed his system about 10 years earlier than Schoenberg but, as you see, it was much more flexible. There actually seem to be more similarities with Scriabin, whose ‘mystic chord’ was transposable and flexible and was used for melody and harmony. One could also hear Scriabin’s stylistic influences in the Three Poems, which bear similarities to Scriabin’s short piano works from around 1905 to 1910.” I’ve noted that Roslavets didn’t create a sort of blank rhythmic structure that would de-emphasize the special, different harmonies that he wanted to avoid. And I thought there was a naturalness in the way the harmonies and rhythms fit together that made them more accessible. “He used preexisting forms, for example, the Waltz and the Mazurka from the Three Dances, and his shapes and his gestures were very clear. At the same time, the music implies a great freedom of pacing and expression.”

How do audiences respond to Roslavets? “We have played this music quite often. In Europe, we performed Roslavets in Italy, Denmark, Switzerland, France, Holland, Bulgaria, and Greece; and in the United States, at a number of festivals, such as the Green Mountain Chamber Music Festival [in Vermont], Chautauqua, Killington, Fox River, and at a number of universities as well. Many of these concerts were multimedia recitals, which included (in this case) poetry and film. In general, this is a type of recital format that we enjoy using quite often. This particular program is dedicated to the music of Roslavets, in which we use his life as a symbol of the fate of all repressed Soviet artists. We include poems by Anna Ahkmatova and Marina Tsvetaeva, and footage from Soviet documentaries and animation. In a sense, this is the way we present the CD—chronologically, demonstrating the way in which his writing style was shaped so dramatically by political pressure and maturity.” What kinds of things appear in the video part of the presentation? “Footage with Stalin, for example. One scene is taken from Stalin’s birthday party, with hundreds of children singing and marching. We try to represent communist life at the time, what Roslavets was seeing—and the sort of force with which he was dealing.”

How do audiences respond? “We have had the most wonderful reaction to the music (sometimes we program it within traditional recitals as well). People are always excited to hear something they haven’t heard before. The music is incredibly natural and speaks to many people. It also features the violin in a glorious way. There is a curiosity about his life as well, and the multimedia recital raises many questions. Audiences have such interesting comments for us about connections they’ve made between the music, the poetry, and the footage, often connections that we had not made ourselves. This is very exciting for us.”

Speaking of the naturalness of Roslavets’s music calls to mind strong ideas the duo has about natural recording. “We made this recording without any mastering, because our goal was to keep the sound as close as possible to that of a live performance.” Why? “Because that’s what we do—we’re recitalists. We play concerts. I think of myself in that sense much more than I think of myself as a recording artist. It is important to re-create what we do. Music is live; the sound of the hall can be part of that. Of course, we did need to retake things if a motorcycle drove by or a bird chirped too loudly. We recorded in the middle of the night in St. Petersburg [Florida] at the First Presbyterian Church, which is a very beautiful, natural acoustic. As the air cools, the building cracks as the windows expand and contract, so we’d have to wait for the cracking to stop and sometimes for the birds to settle down. Occasionally, you’d hear a truck drive by, and we’d have to stop and wait. We did a lot of waiting. But it was worth it for me, because I think the effect is really special. I know that this sound is a very personal choice, but it is something to which we are both committed.” It’s certainly not sterile, as a recording can be that’s laced with splices. “I’m glad you feel that way! Of course, the sound of a hall may be re-created in a studio and there are some great studios. But in this case we chose to use a pair of matched Schoeps microphones, to capture the combined sound of the violin and piano.” How far apart were the microphones placed? “The mikes are placed together within inches—like our ears. We experimented with different placements from the duo, from seven to 13 feet, which seemed to capture best the live sound. We listened many times to get the sound that we liked best. It is something I can recognize: I recognize myself and I recognize the sound of the duo.”

Were there any special personal discoveries among Roslavets’s works? “The E-Minor Prelude (No. 4) was the first we played together; we included it in our first duo recital, which took place in 1998. This work is, to me, a perfect example of the soaring lyricism that I find so satisfying to play. There is almost always a beautiful, melancholy element in Roslavets’s melodic lines—always passionate and very sincere. This piece also has a sentimental connection for me because it was one of my first Roslavets discoveries. I consider this more of a duo CD than a violin CD, although it features the violin in a certain way.”

Did Svetozar bring a different kind of insight to the project? “I am so fortunate to have found a musical partner for whom I have the deepest respect and trust—musically and otherwise. We rely on each other’s opinions and we complement each other’s strengths. This music comes very naturally to Svetozar, who has always been a passionate interpreter of Scriabin’s piano works, which may be approached similarly in terms of color and timing. The music requires a phenomenal pianist, and Svetozar is great on all levels. He’s also very knowledgeable regarding Russian cultural history—which was a big help in our research—not to mention his ability to translate articles and communicate with Russian scholars. Every step of the way, as we work, we share our ideas about everything. We often share them by playing and leading each other in different directions. And then we listen to see what worked. We always agree in the end.”

Would there be any chance of performing this repertoire together in Russia? “I would love this; we have been invited, but so far the timing has not been convenient. But that will happen; we always try to make these things work.”

Stuart has also participated in a recording of music by the eclectic American composer Evan Chambers, playing in a work for violin and piano ( Fire House Reel ) and in a trio for violin, saxophone, and piano ( Come Down Heavy! ). Was this your first experience hearing Evan’s music? “Yes, it was. Isn’t it fun? This guy is just amazing.” His music certainly defies categorization, and listening to it, I recalled the excitement of hearing Milhaud’s Creation du monde for the first time—with its fusion of jazz, fugue, and Latin American stylistic elements. “Perhaps the CD title helps to reveal the answer to your question [ Cold Water Dry Stone: New Music with Traditional Roots —Albany 422]. Evan himself describes this music as lying ‘between worlds’ and, using the language of concert music, he draws from folk music of Ireland, Albania, and the United States. I think the wonderful thing about classical music is the infinite range of styles it embraces, especially these days.” Chambers is a composer in an academic setting (University of Michigan). How does this music fit into his academic life? “The University of Michigan has a really long and celebrated history of influential composers—like Evan. The school has crossed many barriers, but Evan, in particular, has managed to blur the lines between music worlds—to merge them seamlessly—and to find what he calls ‘the point at which things connect.’ Of course, this is a concept that must be approached with great mastery, as is the case with Evan. This reminds me of our discussion about violinistic writing. I absolutely love the experience of playing Evan’s music. Take [the piece] Cold Water, Dry Stone , for example. Here’s a work in which a very unlikely combination of Western classical instruments (violin, saxophone, clarinet, bassoon, piano, and percussion) re-creates the soul of Albanian folk history. There’s an amazing effect of raw human experience combined with a sound so natural and yet so unexpected. At the same time, each of us exploits our instruments to the very edge of what they can achieve in the most idiomatic sense. It feels and sounds deeply primal. I’m a huge fan, and I’m part of a very large club.”

How was the acquaintance with Chambers struck? “Although I knew Evan as a student, our active association began later when he took an interest in Quorum. Come Down Heavy! was one of the first works that we programmed (in 1995) and, of course, we sought his mentorship. From then on, he became an ardent supporter and friend of the group, inspiring us continually.” And still does, apparently. “Absolutely, and I am looking forward to performing Fire House Reel this summer at Green Mountain.”

What problems did playing with saxophone pose in Come Down Heavy! ? “For 12 years I had the pleasure of working with the ensemble Quorum. During that time, I played many works that included saxophone, some of which were written for the complete instrumentation of Quorum. You are absolutely right about the potential for balance issues between violin and saxophone. But Evan Chambers is a master of voicing and colors, and he loves to give everyone the freedom to wail when the music calls for it. With his permission, I have, at times, lightly amplified certain things, just so I could have the extra edge to go as far as everybody else. But this desire mostly depends on the hall. I would not need to do this for a recording.”

What kind of violin does Stuart play? “A Giuseppe Pedrazzini from Cremona in 1926.” It sounds different in the Chambers works from the way it sounds in the Roslavets recording. “Actually, it wasn’t the same violin. At the time, I did not yet own the Pedrazzini and I was fortunate to have a gorgeous loan from Shar. What I like most about the Pedrazzini is that it is mine. It took me a long time to find it—and a long time to pay for it. Of the modern Italian violins I tried, this one is especially warm and even. We’ve been together about as long as the Stuart-Ivanov Duo!”

ROSLAVETS Morgenstimmung. Reverie. Élégie. 3 Poems. 3 Dances. Poème romantique. Nocturne . Legend. Preludes: No. 4 in e; No. 9 in E; No. 11 in B; No. 12 in g♯; No. 17 in A♭; No. 20 in c; No. 24 in d • Carolyn Stuart (vn); Svetozar Ivanov (pn) • GEGA 340 (55:17)

Carolyn Stuart and Svetozar Ivanov have arranged their program of Nikolai Roslavets’s music for violin and piano chronologically, the earliest works, like Morgenstimmung from 1907, having been completed, according to the notes, during his student days and the latest, the selected preludes, coming from 1941–42. The music describes a sort of arc, the early simple and accessible, the middle more complex and composed in accordance with his “New System of Sound Organization” (according to the notes based on a “synthetic chord” of several pitches that he could transpose freely). The later simpler and more direct works, representing, perhaps, the composer’s efforts to regain Soviet favor, bring the arc again closer to earth.

The notes identify the first three pieces, the earnest Morgenstimmung (1907), the Rêverie (1908), and the delicate Élégie (also 1908), as unpublished works that Roslavets wrote during his student days at the Moscow Conservatory. In these performances, billed as world premieres, Stuart and Ivanov explore the shifting, gauzy textures of an intensely expressive salon style, with Stuart deploying the tonal resources of her instrument in stratospheric soaring climaxes and throaty passages on the G string. The textures thicken in the Three Poems, of which these also purport to be world premiere recordings. None of these ( Poème doleureux, Poème lyrique , and, simply, Poème ) last even as long as two minutes, but their concentration suggests a musical message that the composer has refined and tightened.

According to the notes, the Three Dances from 1923 (Waltz, Nocturne, and Mazurka) represent Roslavets at the height of his “complexity”; they also provide examples of the compositional style he had worked out. Here the harmonies sound less focused (though the dissonances hardly seem overwhelming or intimidating) and the melodies leap in a way familiar from the works of some dodecaphonic composers. Still, there’s a great deal of conjunct motion and the rhythms don’t seem to have been commandeered by the harmonies and melodies. The result, as in the Waltz, seems to be an accessible idiom that the performers have absorbed into their musical language (the First Violin Concerto, from 1925, evidences a complexity similar to that of the dances but embedded in moodily rhapsodic textures and underlined with scoring by turns exquisitely sensitive and blazingly brilliant; in Fanfare 32:4, Phillip Scott reviewed a performance by Alina Ibragimova of both of Roslavets’s concertos on Hyperion 7637). The Nocturne, at the same time more transparent and timbrally adventurous in this reading, leads to a mazurka, preserving something of the dance’s rhythmic effect but representing perhaps the aphelion of the tonal orbit.

The allusive Poème romantique of 1929 (another world premiere recording of unpublished music) represents a retreat from the almost uncharted territory of the dances (similar in a way to the Scriabinesque viola sonata of the same general period—perhaps 1925—which Yuri Bashmet played with searing intensity on RCA Red Seal 09026-61273, which John D. Wiser reviewed in 16:4) with a return to a haunting romantic harmonic and melodic language. The deeply affecting unpublished Nocturne (1935), which begins with almost obsessive repetition of a three-note motive (to which it later returns), gives way to an ardent middle section. Stuart and Ivanov capture both its sensuousness and its menace. (The Second Violin Concerto, from about the same time—1936—violinistic to the core and similarly accessible, even seems to allude specifically to works in the instrument’s standard repertoire—Hyperion 67637). Legend (1941), by far the longest individual work on the program, gives rein to the instrument’s capabilities, both tonal and technical (Roslavets himself played the violin). It perhaps represents, with its darker, more concentrated expression and its elusive, though intense, rhapsodic outpouring (compare in manner, if not in matter, Eugène Ysaÿe’s exotic meanderings), a blip in the complexity curve but still in every regard a showcase for Stuart’s and Ivanov’s musical and stylistic mastery. The seven preludes the duo has chosen, ingratiatingly melodious in No. 4, more urgent in No. 9, moody and probing in No. 11 and No. 12 (with its ethereal ending), playful and even a bit coquettish (at least in the beginning and middle section) in No. 17, commanding in No. 20, and reflective in No. 24, traverse a wide expressive range (perhaps the idea behind the set, besides its passages through the keys), to which Stuart and Ivanov prove themselves highly adaptable.

A letter that accompanied the recording’s submission for review (though not the booklet) suggests that the duo preferred a natural recorded sound with no edits. If those who appreciate a tonal portrait capturing its subjects close up miss the tweaking and carefully designed lighting of a more highly processed studio production, this recording nevertheless reveals the performers as they might sound in a somewhat (but not too) reverberant concert setting, tonally resplendent and affectingly assured both stylistically and technically. As an overview of the composer’s lifetime production, this collection might also serve as an auspicious first introduction to the composer, especially for those who might be less favorably inclined toward his more experimental music. Strongly recommended. Robert Maxham