The Georgian-Israeli composer Josef Bardanashili is a major contemporary compose whose Light to my Path so imposed at the Azrieli Gala Concert in Montréal recemtly, and whose vocal works featured in this post.
During an interview, Maestro Bardanshvili gifted me this disc of his piano music played by Ofra Yitzhaki,
The 2004 Fantasia exhibits a comer Bardanshvili trait of lone,, highly ornate melodic lines . There is a specific aanalogy the composer describes as teh origin of these:
I was born in.Batumi, a Georgian port own on the coast of the Black Sea. I now live in Bat-Yam, an Israeli coastal city on the Mediterranean. The topography of these cities itself is in my works as a long, imaginary horizontal shoreline, with layers of musical events above and below it’
One can hear those lines in the Fanasia along with a fluent musical language. Bariashvili’s polystylism has been.linked to that of Schnittke, and can also be seen a s a reflection of his home country Georgia, a place where Armenians, Azerbaijanis, Jews, Kurds, Persians, Christians, Musilims, and sill others live side-by-side. Another composer linked to Bardanashcvili is a sort of ‘transparent spirituality,’ aligned with that fo Giya Kancheli. The polystylism comes ino play nearly immediately with a version of what could be consumed as Weimar cabaret tango, itself juxtaposed with yodel-like motifs (effective of Georgian that singing). Ofra Yitzhki is a terrific pianist, markedly unafraid of challenge and completely at one with Bardanashvili’s language:
The Piano Sonata No. 1 dates for 1974 and was composed under the Communist regime of the then-USSR. The notes describe it as speaking an “Aesopian” language: a hidden meaning behind the surface, therefore. Th individual against a tyrannical other therefore exists I teh juxtapositions of soft lyricism against granitic dissonance here: late Liszt/Ustvolskaya-like bass aggregations rub shoulders with free single-line melodie. There’s also a real sensitivity as to the colour of chord and progressions: the repeated chords that glow against crepuscular fittings, fo example:
The second movement is a Passacagla: al three movements are unified by a five-note motif, heard here as the passacaglia bass. The first two of the five (the full complement is, in its pure form, B, A, B flat, D, A) become something of a “cry of the freedom-seeking soul”. Yitzhaki relishes the dark sonorities of this astonishing Lento, which achieves os much in so little time:
When it comes to that ‘sighing” descending tone segment of five-note unifier, it is laid bare at the opening of the finale and becomes its dominant (the marking of this movement s “a placere’, a different but balancing “shade” of the freedom allowed by the opening “Fantasia”). Yitzhaki sustains the argument perfectly (no easy matter):
Four short pieces separate the two sonatas as a sort of pithy interludes, the Four Short Pieces on Jewish Folksongs from 1975. They are actually settings of songs the young Bardanashvili discovered in a library in Georgia. Bardanashvili takes the ancient music for a walk amongst the musical landscape of the mid-1970s, sometimes destabilising the line in the process, as you can hear in the first, “Ashrel ha’Am” (Blessed is the People); there are also reminiscences of the shofar, an instrument used in Jewish celebrations:
The second, “Ashira” (I shall sing) is like a Modernist carillon, while “Hafara” (Parting) is a lament-like chant from the Book of Prophets, used at the close of a service in the synagogue. A single line is interrupted by what are labelled as “foolish” staccato chords:
Finally, “Shir” (Song), the one of the four that elates most to the ancient basis of the source material:
Yitzhaki is as impressive in single lines as she is in Modernist aggregations and over viuosity. Although the Four Short Pieces on Jewish Folksongs have an interludial function within the disc as a whole, they act as a powerful group within themselves.
Talking of virtuosity, the first movement of the Second Sonata is ferocious in that regard, post-Prokofiev toccatas galore. Written n 1984, this sonatas another piece that focuses on star juxtapositions, including of styles. Post-Prokofiev morphs to posi-Scarlatti; the stormier side of Beethoven rears its head. Throughout, Yitzhaki is our masterful guide. From jazz to Jewish psalmody, The evenness of Yitzhaki’s touch is remarkable around teh five–minute mark particularly (teh first movement itself lasts nearly 13 minutes). When grand chordal statements occur, they appear perfectly prepared, testament to Bardanasvili and Yitzhaki alike.
This movement is by far the bulk of the sonata, a fact acknowledged by the title of the short (3″54) finale, “Post Scriptum”: The first movement sort of disintegrates (with som phenomenal quiet toccata-like gestures from Yitzhaki). The finale is high concentrated; Yitzhaki’s booklet note refers to this as a “philosophical afterthought”. It seems like a vertical summation of the first movements activity, as if freezing it in time by the act of verticalisation:
Frankly, I would love to hear Bardanasvili’s piano sonatas in concert, together .. any takers?!
The balance of the disc could itself be construed as one long coda, or even a extended postscriptum in itself. The Five Theater and Film Sketches was written in 2020. Bardanshvili has written over 120 film and theatre scores and this is that aspect of his output, in microcosm. So there is a distinctly more Post-Romantic edge to the first “Agape” (the Ancient Greek word for “love”), a play by Hanoch Levin:
We really are in a different world for “It all begins at sea” (a film by Eltam Green), a slow tango:
These are charming pieces: “Snow in May” (a film by Zorab Inaishvili) is beautiful, while a “pseudo-Yiddish” melody emerges in “Ghetto” before the final “The Dragon,” a slow waltz for Evgeny Schwartz’s film. Yitzhaki allows the music to linger beautifully:
It is of course fitting to have a Postlude (1993) at – or towards – the end of a recital. An almost jazz improvisation is garlanded with Baroque-like figuration, leading to an Andalusian dance. A heady mix, for sure, but it is the melancholy that stays with the listener:
Helpfully, this performance of that piece comes with score. The performer is Einav Yarden, performing in Jerusalem in 2008:
Finally, Canticum Gradum (Tones of Ascent, 2022), the sonic portrayal of a soul searching for comforting contemporary times. Inspired by the Song of Ascent (Psalm 121, 1-3), the piece is profound in its sense of fervent, even desperate, need:
A fine traversal of the piano music of Josef Bardanashvili; the recorded sound, like the playing, is exemplary.
This fine disc is available at Amazon for a very reasonable £10.21. Streaming below:
