Under the direction of its founder, Robert Simpson, the Houston Chamber Choir has just released an exploration of an often-neglected genre of Russian music: secular part songs.  When ‘Russian Music’ is mentioned, most people probably immediately get 2 mental images: grandiose and bombastic symphonic works, and solemn religious chants.  The tradition of Russian concert music is relatively young, ‘officially’ starting with the works of Glinka (1804-1857), during which time Western music was undergoing the shift from late classicism to full-on romanticism, to which the works of Mussorgsky and Tchaikovsky belong.   But the history of the secular tune, sung by traveling bards in Russia much as it was in Europe, is almost as long as that of the Russians’ ancient sacred chants.  According to the program notes, Ivan the Terrible employed some of these minstrels in his court in the mid-16th century.

Overshadowed by the great popularity of their other musical genres, or sheltered close to home as a distinctly Russian art form, the secular choral tradition is a treasure trove little known outside Russia even today, which makes the Houston Chamber Choir’s CD all the more impressive and valuable.

As the title states, the music is from the 19th and 20th centuries only, with the 19th taking the larger share.  Considering that the CD is so strong in many ways, small improvements could have been made, like more fully representing the modern tradition.  What we have from the 19th century is intriguing because the pieces come from composers most everyone would know from their other work.  While few non-Russophiles would find Dargomyzhsky’s name familiar (a contemporary of Glinka during the great awakening of the early-mid 1800’s), here we see a roster including Tchaikovsky, Taneyev, Cui, and Arensky.

Taneyev is the most represented, with 3 works which show his mastery of short choral forms.  The Ruins of the Tower stands out in particular, for its inventive use of texture and subtle colorations.  Rich harmonies peel off from, or explode out of unison lines, and internal duets often carry text within a broader outside texture.  Cui is adequately represented by Hidden Beauty, but the listener is left wanting more of his unique compositional color.  Rachmaninov’s narrative allegory Pantely the Healer would remind any listener of the Vespers, an indication of how, at least to this composer, the sound of religious ritualism is eternally wed to that of choral music.

From the 20th century, the works by Salmanov, Gavrilin, and Falik give a glimpse into Soviet composition.  It is interesting to note that none of these songs have any nationalist flair to them at all – Salmanov’s Song  is a gentle pastorale with hints of jazz creeping in, as if someone were secretly listening to a Dorsey album in a deserted meadow, and Falik’s Unknown Lady is a choral cha-cha, almost making one think, who is this Russian Weill?  The rest of the 20th century fare is lighthearted and even tongue-in-cheek, which is one of the weaker points of the release.  Here stood a great missed opportunity to display the songs of the people from a time when the people felt the most suppressed.

Similar criticism can be registered for the 19th century offerings; with the colorful exception of the Taneyev, most sound very much like one would expect a mid or late Romantic song to sound.  The CD seems awkwardly bi-chromatic; while it is true and admirable that the HCC went to great lengths to research, locate, and obtain these often obscure works, the 17 tracks seem to be separated into a 19th century ‘feel’ and a 20th century ‘feel’ (the former being traditional, the latter, humorous), which leaves out so much of the Russian experience.  In an hour, we taste 3 or 4 wonderful flavors, but we could have easily tasted 10 or more.

This CD is nonetheless a great achievement and worth a listen.  Unfortunately, the liner notes do not include the texts of the poems in the original language, only (often awkward and un-poetic) English translations.  A final interesting observation: the cover art for the CD, so filled with gems of secularism, displays cupped hands cradling water, bearing the reflection of a Russian Orthodox church.  Perhaps it is an oversight, or perhaps it is an unconscious symbol that, as nearly half these songs illustrate, faith cannot be divorced from the Russian psyche.

© 2009 Patrick Valentino