Sergey Ljapunov (1859-1924)
Piano Sonata in F minor, Op 27 (1906-08)
Prelude and Fugue in B-flat minor, Op 58 (1913)
Barcarolle, Op 46 (1911)
Sonatina in D-flat major, Op 65 (1917)
Variations and fugue on a Russian Theme, Op 49 (1912)
Emanuele Delucchi (piano)
rec. 2022, Palazzo Cigola, Martinoni, Cigola, Italy
Da Vinci Classics C00712 [61]

The name Sergey Ljapunov is known among pianists today as the composer of twelve ferociously difficult Transcendental Etudes that take off harmonically where Liszt’s set of twelve end. Though they have never gained the popularity of Liszt’s études they are well represented in the catalogue with fine sets from Louis Kentner, Konstantin Scherbakov, Etsuko Hirose and, my favourite, Florian Noack among others, but the rest of his piano music has mostly been neglected. Florian Noack has recorded three marvellous volumes that have given us a glimpse into what else he wrote (Ars Produktion 38132 Volume 1, 38209 Volume 2, La Dolce Volta LDV90 Etudes) but little enough else is known that this issue is very welcome especially considering the quality of the playing.

Sergei Ljapunov (or Liapunov/Lyapunoff etc) was born into a gifted family, with a scientist father, a brother who is still known as a great mathematician and a mother who was skilled enough at the piano to play Liszt and Thalberg operatic fantasies and who gave Ljapunov his first tuition. An enforced move to Nizhny Novgorod could have scuppered young Sergey’s musical education due to    a dearth of music teachers in the area, but four years after the move the Imperial Russian Musical Society opened locally and Ljapunov enrolled. He continued his education in Moscow but was unable to study under Nikolai Rubinstein and Pyotr Tschaikowsky as he had hoped; Karl Klindworth may not have been his choice but nonetheless gave him a strong foundation, as he later admitted. Even this wasn’t to last and lessons with Paul Pabst, piano and Sergei Taneyev were not conducive to Ljapunov’s artistic temperament, so he travelled to St Petersburg to get closer to the Mighty Five, those nationalist composers whose artistic goals appealed to the young composer. Unfortunately the group had begun to dissolve, but the move did at least introduce Ljapunov to Mili Balakirev who became a friend and mentor; it was Ljapunov who completed Balakirev’s second piano concerto after his death and his piano writing clearly influenced Ljapunov. The major work here is the Sonata in F minor that was written over two years. It appears that Balakirev wasn’t happy with it, but that may have been more the fact that it went to print without Balakirev’s imprimatur – he was rather of the notion that his advice was essential – rather than any lack of quality. It is a wonderfully written piece in one movement that, like the études beforehand, pays homage to that other great virtuoso Franz Liszt. It makes use of transformation of themes, contains the elements of the traditional sonata within its single movement structure – allegro, slow movement, scherzo and finale – and is fiercely virtuosic. Even stronger links can be felt in passages such the piu animato in the first section where the opening melody sings beneath fortissimo repeated chords, the echoes of Bénédiction de Dieu dans la solitude in the andante sostenuto or the quiet ending appearing from the stillness after a fortissimo tremolando chord, but this is not to suggest it is a second rate copy. The melodies are all Lyapunov, raw and impassioned Russian soul and there are many moments of great beauty, notably the dolcissimo hymn-like section in the andante and the quicksilver scherzo. I am surprised that more pianists haven’t taken up the piece; Balakirev specialist Nicholas Walker played it at the Rarities of Piano Music festival in 1999 (Danacord DACOCD539) and I have heard it played in recital by Kenneth Hamilton; there is also Dorothy Elliot Schechter’s traversal (Marco Polo 223468) though the latter suffers from scrappy playing with many mistakes. Thankfully, Delucchi’s version is a winner all round, gripping, passionate and lyrical.

Ljapunov looked further back than Liszt in later years with his single Prelude and Fugue from 1913 – he also wrote a Toccata and fugue in 1920 not included here. The Prelude is a moto perpetuo of arpeggios for both hands while the fugue is an extended piece based on two themes, the first a rhythmic semiquaver figure that soon appears in sixths and octaves and the second a quaver pattern that emerges from the accompanying lines. There is a feel of the bells in some of the writing as it grows more complex with echoes of the bustle of celebratory scenes in operas by Rimsky-Korsakov or Mussorgsky. One of Ljapunov’s most beautiful works is his Barcarolle; the booklet describes it as clearly inspired by Chopin and that is true to a point, especially the F major central section but this work is full of melancholy underpinned with an unease generated by the off the beat arpeggio accompaniment. Balakirev had died the year before the Barcarolle was written and the work is something of a tribute; the simple motif in the first two bars echoes the opening bars of Balakirev’s B-flat minor Sonata.

The Sonatina in D-flat is one of his last works, written towards the end of the first World War and a work he premiered on his final tour that was actually his self exile from his drastically altered homeland. It is in three movements, the first of which contrasts two entirely different ideas; a scherzo like rhythmic motif in duple time and a more melancholy theme in 6/8 that seem to live separate lives but for a few bars where the left hand takes one and the right hand the other. The abruptness of the harmonic and rhythmic changes, Russian dance to Russian folksong, makes for a slightly odd juxtaposition on first hearing. The slow movement is the emotional heart, a mournful song that is like a sad farewell to the homeland he knew and could not return to and though it has a more optimistic slant in the central section the movement melts away into nothing. The finale is a virtuosic and relentess toccata whose themes, wrought among the welter of notes, aren’t entirely estranged from those of the slow movement in mood. Delucchi rounds off his recital with the glorious Variations and fugue on a Russian Theme, richly romantic from start to finish. The theme in quintuple time reminds us of Ljapunov’s links to the nationalist music of the mighty five and if it is not a genuine folk song it certainly sounds like one. Despite their ferocious technical demands, these variations are not for empty display and there is a brooding intensity to much of the writing. In its more extrovert variations Ljapunov is very successful in evoking the clamour of Russian bells with the theme ringing out through keyboard encompassing figuration and the variations, through written, flowing effortlessly one to another, are just about as Russian a work as I can imagine. This is true even of the final fugue, introduced by a delicate cadenza; cousin to the fugue in Brahms’ Variations and fugue on a theme by Handel but full of Slavic spirit.

Like Balakirev, Ljapunov’s piano music is full of technical challenges, but it rewards the performer and listener with vivid and imaginative music. Delucchi responds well and is fully the equal of everything Ljapunov throws at him. If I ever so slightly prefer Noack in the Barcarolle and Variations it is by a very small margin and mostly because Noack’s disc has a richer sound; Delucchi’s disc will be a happy addition to my collection and if you enjoy the Etudes you’ll love this.

Rob Challinor