Leokadiya Kashperova (1872-1940)
Piano Concerto in A minor op.2 (1900)
Symphony in B minor op.4 (1904)
Oliver Triendl (piano), Rundfunk-Sinfonieorchester Berlin / Anna Skryleva
rec. 2023/2024, Berlin, Germany
Reviewed as a 48kHz 24 bit download
Capriccio C5549 [72]
Here is a recording of a symphony and a concerto by a composer whose name I had never come across in all my reading about 19th and early 20th century music. On this showing, her name should have appeared. What contributed to my ignorance may be my failure to respond to Stravinsky’s music, and so the absence of his biographies from my bookshelf. It would appear that Leokadiya Kashperova taught Stravinsky. Characteristically, he said some less than complementary things about her. The liner notes reveal little, but a bit of online research shows that he called her “a blockhead”, said that she was “musically limited” and that her demeanour was “virtuous, stifling and dull”.
Mind you, he also admitted that he owed his career as a performer to her. She was an excellent and most conscientious pianist. She taught him a “precise and clean” finger technique that helped him to perform his neoclassical piano works. The “blockhead” comment related to his impression of her intellect and artistic sensibility, “musically limited” to her lack interest in modern developments in music. She was one of arch-conservative Anton Rubinstein’s students, which was clearly no recommendation whatsoever to the iconoclastic Stravinsky.
One might then expect her symphony and concerto to follow traditional formal outlines. They do, yet this in no way diminishes their worth or appeal—quite the opposite. The concerto begins with a striking orchestral gesture: the lower brass briefly darken the texture before the piano enters with a surprisingly light touch. The interplay that follows, with its relatively transparent orchestration, often calls to mind Anton Rubinstein’s later concertos in how it balances power with delicacy. Kashperova frequently turns to chamber‑like passages which feature filigree piano writing, and here her teacher’s influence is unmistakable. Her melodic gifts may be less immediately apparent in this concerto than in the symphony she wrote four years later, but the music leaves a distinctly pleasing impression. This is especially true in the Adagio, where a gentle orchestral introduction presents a fragile theme that the piano takes up in an improvisatory, dream‑like manner. Even as the orchestra grows more impassioned, that sense of suspended lyricism persists, heightening the movement’s expressive effect.
The third-movement Allegro con anima is a lively polonaise, supplemented by piano gymnastics and an intermezzo where the violin and cello play a prominent melodic part accompanied by piano arpeggios. This is a reminder that Kashperova was in demand as a chamber musician who regularly performed with front-ranked partners. The pace quickens and the conclusion is reached with the full orchestra and piano in triumphant cohabitation, as befits a virtuoso concerto. If you have ever enjoyed Rubinstein’s 4th or 5th piano concerto, there is every likelihood that you will respond well to Kashperova’s work.
The Symphony Op. 4 could easily be mistaken for Glazunov, the nationalistic colouring so prominent in his gorgeous Second Symphony largely replaced by the more Germanic, classically oriented manner. Kashperova’s melodic gift is evident early on: about three and a half minutes into the first movement, the opening theme, previously carried mainly by the strings, passes to the solo cello with disarming beauty. It was striking enough to make me rewind and hear it again; it would not have been out of place as the principal theme of the slow movement.
Throughout the symphony I was reminded of Tchaikovsky in ballet mode, with delicate woodwind writing and imaginative orchestration to the fore. The second‑movement Allegretto scherzando is especially characteristic in this respect, and there even is a thème russe. The finale features another thème russe, this time sung by the cor anglais. This strongly accented Allegro is built on a three‑note motif that drives the music toward a full‑throated climax and an exultant, accelerated finish.
Listening to these two works has led me to the conclusion that Kashperova is truly an undeservedly neglected composer. She was a traditionalist, yes, but surely, we are now able to appreciate music that did not follow the progressive styles of the time. Her melodic gifts alone should have been enabled performances, but the difficulties of arranging orchestral performances in times of upheaval should not be underestimated. It is a pity that after her marriage in 1916 to a Leninist political activist her musical activities became curtailed in what was an unstable period. Even later on, when her husband achieved several prestigious political appointments in Moscow, it appears that she did not resume composing.
The recording is really excellent, with a bold, clear presentation for soloist and orchestra. The performances seem to me to be well prepared, with fine playing by all concerned. The booklet, up to Capriccio’s standard, contains information about the music and Kashperova’s biographical details. There is brief biographical information on pianist Oliver Triendl and conductor Anna Skryleva (who is a synesthete).
Jim Westhead
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