Take three important works, one superb violist, one sympathetic conductor and orchestra, add fresh, vibrant sound, and you wind up with a treasurable disc that should not be missed by anyone with even passing interest in modern music or in the viola. Soloist Kim Kashkashian is a remarkably sympathetic interpreter of these works by Hungarian composers. Bartok’s Viola Concerto, commissioned by William Primrose and unfinished at the composer’s death in 1945, was completed by Tibor Serly from Bartok’s extensive sketches; further changes were made by the performers for this disc. They dig deep, getting to the heart of a work that can be elusive. As Paul Griffith points out in his booklet notes, Bartok’s stated intention to write a “transparent” work was carried through by Serly to the point where some passages sound bare and under-orchestrated. But it’s full of passion and singing lines for the solo instrument, and the finale bursts with rhythmic vitality.
The Bartok is followed by Peter Eötvös’ Replica, written for Kashkashian and premiered by violist and composer in 1999. It’s an event-filled piece of adventurous harmonies and troubling shifts in perspective. It’s a work of great originality though the influence of Bartok is readily apparent and at least one passage sounds as if Messaien was at Eötvös’ elbow. Replica opens with a questing viola line and continues with the solo instrument on an unsettling search for stability in a context of dubious allies (five violas who move in and out of the spotlight) and rapidly shifting threats from the orchestra. The solo viola plays almost nonstop, singing rapturously, fluttering like a grounded bird, whimpering in despair. The work’s quiet, indeterminate ending recalls Eliot’s line about the world ending not with a bang but with a whimper. This is serious, grim music of austere beauty, repaying many hearings and leaving us in awe of Kashkashian’s virtuosity.
The final work is György Kurtág’s Movement for Viola and Orchestra, part of an early Concerto whose other movement Kurtág abandoned. It’s a rhapsodic work, complete in itself, that fills out our knowledge of a composer known for his single-minded miniatures. Bartok, Beethoven, Brahms, and Haydn lurk in the background, but Kurtág easily assimilates them and puts his personal stamp on music of power and originality. Again, this music is played to the hilt by conductor, orchestra, and soloist. This is one of those rare discs that’s sure to become a classic.
