KODÁLY & LIGETI - Sonatas for Cello Solo, LIGETI - Sonata for Viola Solo
After re-reading my recent posts here, I suddenly realized that this became a blog about Orbán and how bad life is in Hungary. Complaining about our lives is, of course, our national sport. Almost every Hungarian is shocked when they first learn that the question ‘How are you doing?’ must be answered with ‘fine thanks’ in polite English conversation. How can those English and Americans not talk about their problems? The pain? The hopelessness?
Of course, I’m guilty of that, too. So let’s try a different tact and not talk about the Danube soon flooding parts of Budapest, the inflation, and other aspects of the dour Hungarian reality. Let’s talk about something beautiful. Let’s talk about music.
Last year, Budapest Music Center, a concert venue, a jazz and contemporary music powerhouse, and a record label published an album by Hungarian cellist Tamás Zétényi. The album is BMC’s salute to the centenary of György Ligeti’s birth.
First, talk about courage.
Streaming has changed music in many ways. Perhaps the biggest burden for classical music performers is the easy accessibility of exceptional renditions by the greatest artists for comparison.
Playing Kodály’s Sonata for Solo Cello (op. 8) takes a lot of courage. A quick online search brings up recordings by János Starker, Miklós Perényi (both of them played the piece for Kodály himself), and Paul Tortelier. From Zétényi’s generation, there is a very good Naxos recording by Gabriel Schwabe.
This recording stands comparison with each and every one of them.
Zétényi sounds like a perfectionist and more than that. He maintains a high playing standard throughout the Kodály and the Ligeti sonatas. The virtuoso passages are crystal clear, and the lyrical ones are rich with musicality.
It is also clear that he knows what he is playing. Kodály’s and Ligeti's compositions are challenging to play, and many renditions either get too caught up in playing every note precisely or overly focus on the cultural references and harmonic details. Some recordings manage to cover all the necessary elements but can still be…boring.
Not this one, though. The key to success is having courage with the bow. The cello is, in many ways, similar to the electric guitar. It's incredibly versatile, and a skilled player knows when to dig into the strings and make them sing. Zétényi is a cellist who understands when it's time to make the cello sing. The first few bars of the Kodály sonata prove this. He doesn't get carried away or lose tempo like Mischa Maisky does in those painful Bach solo recordings.
This music doesn't fall into the easy listening category. It was composed by two very different geniuses. One of them reconciled with the Communist regime, while the other (Ligeti) emigrated. I have a special fondness for Ligeti. To me, he is the quintessential modern composer. His music can be quite unconventional (or downright crazy), but I always find enjoyment in it without needing a detailed explanation for why. This is why I like this recording so much.
I also like how the soloist knows what he is doing and the studio crew's perfectionism. The sound quality is exquisite. A good set of headphones gives you all the overtones and background you expect from a good cello recording. If you want to hear something nice from and about Hungary and you are not a novice in classical music, this is definitely worth listening to.
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Beyond all the above mentioned advantages, Ligeti's music has a very practical, everyday use.
For example, if You have a mouse in the house, or maybe an inconvenient neighbour, the only thing You have to do is: put a Ligeti CD into the player, set the volume accordingly, and the problem solves itself quickly.
This is even more effective, than trying the same with Arnold Schönberg.
Yes, it has become a bit of an orgy of Hungarian complaining, and that’s unfortunate. Let’s not do that, eh? Hungary’s a fine place to live when you’re fleeing the insatiable beast that is American cultural colonialism—a fact some Hungarians, however downtrodden they might be, would do well to remember.
‘Course now that I’m basically a Hungarian myself, I do appreciate it; if only in a whimsical, irreverent fashion that is becoming all too familiar! (: