Texas pianist John Salmon (b. 1954) may have accomplished for Ukrainian composer Nikolai Kapustin (b. 1937) what Leonard Pennario did for Louis Moreau Gottschalk a generation ago, namely, “discovered” him. A proficient pianist himself, Kapustin had studied with Alexander Goldenweiser at the Moscow Conservatory. The Piano Sonata included in this group of compositions takes its title from Beethoven’s Op. 27, No. 2, only in reverse, punctuated at every turn by jazz influences; so that we consistently feel as though some classical pianist–say Friedrich Gulda–were enjoying a sudden jam session with Art Tatum or Oscar Peterson. It appears that Kapustin did work with progressive jazz bands in Russia, and the decidedly American influence–bluesy, syncopated, driving, often polytonal–saturates Kapustin’s musical syntax.
The curious combination of classical procedures and jazzy, hip sounds takes us to The Half Note in New York City, a real “club” sonority that Salmon’s right hand whips out in runs while the left has the bumping ostinati familiar to the blues from Brubeck to Milt Jackson. The Preludes exemplify the hovering presence of George Gershwin’s idea of “prelude” as a cross-over phenomenon. If the G-flat rips quickly, the F Minor jaunts along in a stride fashion close to Peterson and Garner, with a taste of Joplin. That Kapustin can absorb serialism into his style bursts forth in the Etude No. 5, boogie-woogie fertilized by swirling, disjunct octaves in the right hand. If there is a “Russian” strain in this music, it lies in the grand line and occasional melancholy that might be Medtner or Scriabin; otherwise, it all plays like sophisticated blues and even soul – experimental, like Keith Jarrett, some of Bill Evans, and vibes from barrelhouse honky-tonk. The Etude No. 7 “Intermezzo” begins like a Tatum stride, then it gathers a swirling complexity that Busoni and his acolytes could admire.
The three Bagatelles share a slower tempo than the Etudes, more Count Basie and moments of Duke Ellington than furioso Keith Jarrett. No. 2 has a dry sonority, rather spare and pointillistic; but then the right hand will occasionally skim a glistening run along the top. Herbie Hancock might have dictated Bagatelle No. 8, the chords and grace notes studied and modal, as though Maurice Ravel and Leonard Bernstein were not too far way. Salmon ends with a blistering Scherzo–a toccata really–from the Sonata No. 2, wherein any number of pounding of the D in 12/8 time gets our blood pumping and jumping, likely in anticipation of another volume of this wild composer.
The recording, made at Organ Hall, School of Music, The University of North Carolina, Greensboro, 12 March, 7 May, 27 August, and 17 September 2006, has been expertly engineered by producer Bobby Gage.
— Gary Lemco
