The First and the Last, Alpha and Omega

On Thursday, Nov. 4, 2010, I attended the Russian premiere of "The Third and Final Testament" by Nikolay Obukhov (1892-1954). Obukhov was a Russian-born composer who emigrated to France. Though a contemporary of Prokofiev, his music was quite a bit more avant garde. Obukhov created his own system of giant harmonic clusters and worked with experimental instruments, most notably the "croix sonore" which is elsewhere described as a cousin of the Theremin. For those of you not up on your retro electronic instruments, the Theremin has an eerie sound suitable for science fiction soundtracks, and its mechanism is equally ghoulish...the player does not actually touch the instrument but moves his/her hands nearby and the instrument takes its pitch and volume from an electronic reading of the position of the hands.

If it is a great honor to attend the Russian premiere of a major work by an important Russian-born composer, it must be doubly impressive to have attended what will no doubt also turn out to be its final performance in St. Petersburg. The work features a full symphony orchestra, two pianists, an organ (here played by two players), the "croix sonore" (a theremin was employed) and five vocal soloists who intoned six pages of obtuse French text about the Last Judgment and the Resurrection of the Dead. They needn't have bothered. They could rarely be heard over the din. The music sounded much more like the soundtrack of a science-fiction animated feature about post-apocalyptic cell-fragments wandering through the nouveau-primordial ooze in search of organic matter to glom onto than souls making their final ascent heavenward. The sympathetic audience, inclined to give the work the benefit of the doubt, eventually slowly gave up trying to distinguish one section of big noise from another, and, one by one, began to filter out of the hall. I know not how many were left at the end, since somewhere in the middle of the second half, I joined their number. I feel relatively certain, as there had been little change in the work over the previous forty minutes, the last twenty would hold much the same. I admit that this is the reverse of the classic fallacy of judgment made by the Thanksgiving Turkey, who wrongly assumes that a certain Wednesday in November will be as delightful as all of the previous days of being gloriously fattened up.

But to continue the food metaphor, the "light" appetizer before this turgid bouillabaisse was Scriabin's Third Symphony, known as "The Divine Poem." This exciting work, brilliantly performed by the St. Petersburg Philharmonic energetically led by Aleksander Titov provided the inspiration seemingly missing from the (even) larger work. I am familiar only with Scriabin's piano music. This piece struck me (in my admitted ignorance) as the possible offspring of the unlikely marriage of César Franck and Anton Bruckner, and more interesting to me than most works by either of these composers. The audience gave the performance a lengthy ovation of rhythmic applause, uncharacteristic for the middle rather than the end of the concert. Alas, I have no idea if those who remained until Obukhov's resurrected souls had reached the heavenly heights were equally as enthusiastic.

Conservatory Festivities

The rest of my visit to Moscow was consumed with the wonderful impressionist gallery of the Pushkin museum, as well as the beautiful church across the street.

Returning to Saint Petersburg, I was thrown back into the fray of the International Festival of Conservatories. This is the tenth year of the Festival, and Conservatories from France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Israel and the United States were invited, among others. The US was represented by Eastman School of Music, the Peabody Conservatory, Morgan State, and of course, me. The US schools had a separate evening of performances, including some boffo Scriabin from a talented young pianist from Eastman. Vocal students from Peabody presented Spanish songs, Russian duets, and a series of excerpts of songs and arias by Lori Laitman, accompanied by the composer herself! The program encompassed her career as a vocal composer, including her very first song as well as excerpts from her new opera, The Scarlet Letter. The program finished with a thrilling performance of excerpts from Porgy and Bess performed by the Morgan State choir and some fantastic soloists.

Earlier that day I had given my first masterclass in the conservatory. The students were very impressive, singing Mozart, Verdi, Gounod, Puccini, and Fauré. I had a number of luminaries stop into my class, including Laitman and the Russian coach from Peabody, Vera Danchenko-Stern. I felt honored that the two of them took the time to come make my acquaintance, and I was able to meet with both of them more extensively the next day. Over breakfast Lori Laitman and I discussed her career writing for voice (naturally I guided the conversation to those works for baritone) and I look forward to learning some of her works, which are already favorites of my students in Michigan. Vera Danchenko-Stern was kind enough to coach me on some of the Tchaikovsky songs I have been singing. I hope to see both of these extraordinary artists when I am in Washington in March for my recital at the Russian Cultural Center on March 7.

I gave a second masterclass at the Musical College here in Saint Petersburg. In three hours I saw 12 extraordinary young singers perform works ranging from "Caro mio ben" to some of the most ambitious arias in the repertory, such as Doretta's Song from Puccini's La Rondine. All the students acquitted themselves well, a testimony to the fine training they are receiving.

This masterclass gave me the opportunity to better understand how the curriculum works between the two schools. The Conservatory offers vocalists a five year diploma program which is not designed to be the equivalent of an academic degree, but really prepares a singer for a professional career. Although theoretically one could enter the Conservatory right out of high school--and some do--the nature of vocal development makes it more feasible to wait a while. Thus many students get a degree from the Musical College and then apply for entrance into the Conservatory. The students at the Musical College ranged from about 16 to 21. Students start at the Conservatory anywhere from 16 to 24 or even later. Remember that I started taking voice lessons just before turning 39, so I have nothing against late starters!

As the week drew towards its end, I saw a performance of Così fan tutte performed by the Conservatory students. Officially this was not a presentation of the Festival of Conservatories, which had another event presented simultaneously. The Così production was beautifully sung and played and engagingly staged. Larger scenes took place on a central platform with shifting benches and flower pots which would then be hidden by a scene curtain with the next scene playing "in 1." The result was that the scenes in which the men were acting their Albanian roles took place on a stage within a stage, while others looking on could position themselves on the stage floor proper. Without calling attention to itself or veering towards a modern interpretation the staging pointed the audience into a deeper understanding of the levels of the plot and the interactions of the characters.

Stranger on the Train

Friday night was the opening of the Conservatory Festival here in St. Petersburg. Conservatories from all over the world have sent students and faculty to perform in concert over the next week, and there is a lot of exchange of music and talent. The opening concert featured the St. Petersburg Conservatory Orchestra performing Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique. And fantastique it was! Glazunov Hall is a beautiful setting for a concert, but the acoustics are not ideal for a full orchestra. Nonetheless it was exciting to experience this work close up and personal. The orchestra, conducted by Conservatory Rector Sergei Stadler, performed beautifully. There was a reception for the many foreign dignitaries and consulate representatives in attendance. After gulping down some beef tongue, a Russian specialty, I bolted for the train station.

My friends Alan and Jorge from London are escorting my buddy Bernie to visit me and see Russia. They flew to Moscow on Tuesday/Wednesday and spent several days there, visiting the Kremlin, seeing the Bolshoi Ballet, and attending Shostakovich operas in concert, along with Alan's favorite, the Ravel G-major piano concerto. The plan was for me to take the train to Moscow and meet them, and then we would all take the train back to Saint Petersburg together on Sunday.

I don't know if I have mentioned Kira, the brilliant young musicology student assigned to help me here in St. Petersburg. Kira very kindly accompanied me on a scouting trip to the train station, to help me buy my ticket and to show me what I needed to know for my trip. But Friday after the concert, instead of following Kira's instructions to take the bus to the Metro to the train station. I decided to walk. I had never been on the Eastern part of Nevsky Prospect, the beautiful shopping street that is Russia's answer to Chicago's Magnificent Mile, but it was stunning at night in the light snow. However, the station was much farther than I thought, and soon the light snow had turned into a minor pelting. So there i was, running for the train with my gym bag, my coat soaked, my face cold, but my bundled up torso sweating from the exertion.

At any rate I did make it on time. There are essentially two main types of train between St. Petersburg and Moscow. This was a sleeper train, and left at 12:40 am. It takes about 9 hours, so it travels at a moderately slow pace. I was assigned a cabin with three beautiful women of differing ages. Two of them spoke a little English and helped translate the instructions of the conductor. I was told later that it was unusual for a man to be assigned to a car with three women, but perhaps that was because I bought my ticket late, and was willing to take seat #13, which apparently is an unlucky number here as well as elsewhere. 

There were a few surprises ahead, they none caused any major problems. First of all, just after we left the conductor came by to take our dinner orders: chicken, fish, or vegetarian. I chose the chicken. That was all well and good, but no food arrived, and around 2:00 am we converted the seats to mattresses and went to sleep. I thought i would have trouble sleeping, but around 7:45 I was awakened from deep slumber by the conductor who threw three styrofoam containers into the compartment containing chicken, rice and a raw cabbage slaw. Good morning!

Surprise number two came when we got to the station. The interior of the Leningradskiy Station in Moscow is exactly like the interior of Moskovsky Station in St. Petersburg. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Had I merely taken an excursion and returned to exact point from which I departed? Only the different location of the men's room confirmed that I was in a different city.

The third surprise was that Leningradsky station was not the one I was expecting to arrive in. My guide book had mentioned another station, and there were no instructions as to how to get to where I was going. But I managed to read the Metro map and made it safely to the loving arms of my friends in their centrally located Moscow apartment.

At any rate, despite the fact that I was a little achy from sleeping on the train, and much less aesthetically presentable than I prefer to be, we leapt into action. We walked down to Red Square and got on line to see Lenin's body lying in state in his mausoleum. I can't imagine how much of his actual DNA is actually left by this time, but with the skillful presentation he did look like pictures of Lenin I had seen, and the eerie lighting did invite communing with his spirit in the other world.