SZYMANOWSKI: Nocturne and Tarantella, op. 28; Mythes, op. 30; Romance in D, op. 23; Sonata in D minor, op. 9; 3 Paganini Caprices, op. 40; La Berceuse d’Aitacho Enia, op. 52 – Alina Ibragimova, violin/ Cedric Tiberghien, piano – Hyperion CDA67703, 76:34 **** [Distr. by Harmonia mundi]:
Karol Szmanowski (1882-1937) was an odd man who wrote odd, but many times exciting and evocative music. He was a native Russian Ukrainian, Polish nationalist, physically handicapped, homosexual, German-inspired, internationalist, voracious reader, Nietzschian, dabbler in Sufism, nervous, heavy smoker and drinker, morphine and cocaine addict, exceptionally talented and overlooked composer. Once the revolution hit Russia, his estate was confiscated and the rest of his life was nearly nomadic, with brief respite provided by temporary fortuitous circumstances, yet nearly always ending up in situations that were far from ideal, his last years falling prey to the all-too-typical and stereotypical tragic life of the artist.
But he was able to complete some music that has more than enriched our lives, even though his name and work are far from household-familiarity, even among some seasoned music lovers. Hyperion, in their usual classy production, has gathered all of his extent violin and piano music onto one disc. There are only two others with this same program (all the genuine works composed for violin) on the Ondine and Accord labels, neither of which I have heard, so cannot make a comparison. But what I do hear on this disc is some remarkably fluent and cleverly managed playing that surely can compete with anything else on the market. The stylistic challenges are formidable, from the echt-romantic notions and starkness of the Sonata to the mystical and impressionistic nuances of the three poems that make up the Mythes. The composer can be all over the board with this music, spanning as it does the pre and post-Great War periods, when a seminal change occurred in his compositional acumen and writing. The delicate structure of the Romance seems miles from the more extrovert and unconventionally confrontational Three Paganini Caprices, where we see a transition from classical virtuosity to post-war irony.
Alina Ibragimova and Cedric Tiberghien catch the spirit of these pieces in toto, and I walked away from the player feeling enriched, puzzled, and a little insecure—just as the composer lived his life, and no doubted would have rejoiced in the ambiguity. Warmly recommended.
— Steven Ritter
