Aram Khachaturian (1903-1978)
Concerto-Rhapsody in B flat minor Violin Concerto in D
minor
Although his star can fairly be said to have waned during
the quarter century since his death, the music of Armenian composer Aram
Khachaturian was, in its day, performed as often as that by Prokofiev and
Shostakovich, thanks in part to his frequent appearances as a conductor. A late
starter when he began his studies at the Moscow Conservatory in 1929,
Khachaturian scored a major success with his graduation exercise, the First
Symphony of 1935, consolidated at home and in the West with a series of concertos
and, at the start of the so-called Great Patriotic War, the ballet Gayaneh. The
failure of his Third Symphony in 1947, and subsequent denunciation as part of
the notorious Zhdanov Decree the following year, was a serious setback which
the success of his 1950s ballet Spartacus only partly remedied. During his
later years, Khachaturian was respected as a musical statesman rather than
admired as a composer, a situation which may change now that the centenary of
his birth is upon us.
Khachaturian composed three Concerto-Rhapsodies during the
1960s. Freely unfolding in a single movement, they form a counterpart to the
earlier concertos, while confirming that the composer was happier working
outside the constraints of integrated symphonic form. The Concerto-Rhapsody in
B flat minor was written in 1962 for the violinist Leonid Kogan, who gave the
first performance, with Kyril Kondrashin and the Moscow Philharmonic Orchestra,
on 3rd November of that year. The work opens with imploring music for strings
and brass, creating a tense, uneasy atmosphere. A quizzical descending figure
for flute and harp presages the entry of the soloist in an elaborate,
cadenza-like passage which leads to a presentation of the initial theme, now
over pulsating wind chords. This pattern continues as the music becomes more
animated, taking on something of a folk-like ambience, before reaching a
soulful version of the main theme towards the mid-point of the piece.
Gypsy-like music for the soloist opens the livelier second half, in which Khachaturian's
typically robust writing for brass and percussion makes itself felt. The
opening theme returns to steer the work into more elegiac territory, and the
descending figure returns to widen the expressive range still further, then a
determined response incites both soloist and orchestra towards a lively and
virtuosic conclusion.
Composed in two months during the summer of 1940, and first
performed in Moscow on 16th November of that year by its dedicatee David
Oistrakh, the Violin Concerto in D minor is the second in a triptych of
concertos which Khachaturian wrote over the decade from the mid-1930s, and
which helped seal his reputation as the leading Armenian composer of his
generation. Continuing directly the lineage of large-scale Romantic violin
concertos (not least that by Tchaikovsky), the work was quickly taken up by
soloists from both East and West, and retains much of its popularity
today.
The opening Allegro con fermezza sets off with a brusquely
descending orchestral gesture, after which the soloist leads off with an
incisive, folk-inflected theme. A plaintive oboe introduces the second theme,
the soloist pensive over pulsating flute and harp chords, before a return to
the initial activity and a central development section, imaginatively scored,
which resourcefully contrasts and combines both themes. The cadenza, occupied
mainly with the second theme, arrives mid-way through the movement; then a
reference to its unmistakable rhythm brings back the first theme, as part of a
modified reprise. The movement closes with an agile and peremptory coda.
Bassoon and lower strings, succeeded by stabbing brass chords, usher in the
Andante sostenuto, the soloist entrusted with a melody of pronounced Slavic
brooding. Strings intensify the prevailing mood, while woodwind interjections
offset any tendency towards the lachrymose. A brief orchestral outburst is
followed by a recall of the lower strings from the opening, then the soloist
resumes, leading to a heartfelt treatment of the main theme by the whole
orchestra. The close, however, returns to the shadows from which the movement
emerged (and note the insinuating presence of the descending figure from the
previous movement's main theme at the very end). The Allegro vivace finale
begins with the strongest possible contrast, a haunting orchestral tutti which
sets the scene for the soloist's lively and memorable main melody, often
modified in its figuration during the course of the movement. In the central
section, a soulful theme, derived directly from that in the first movement,
offers some respite, though the frequently syncopated accompaniment ensures the
main theme remains at least a background presence. A brief orchestral climax
brings it back in full, then both themes are combined as the movement comes
full circle in a forceful and decisive conclusion.
Richard Whitehouse