Mieczysław
Weinberg (1919-1996)
Piano Quintet, Op. 18 (1944)
I – Moderato con moto
II – Andante
III – Presto
IV – Largo
V – Allegro agitato
Weinberg
wrote his Piano Quintet between August and October 1944, at the age of 24. Barely
a year after settling in Moscow, following his double escape from Nazi invasion
(Warsaw to Minsk in September 1939 and Minsk to Tashkent in June 1941), he already
had a blossoming reputation in the musical community of the Soviet capital. His
Quintet is part of a larger group of chamber pieces written at prolific speed
during the war years. Despite his youth, it is a formidable work, cast in five
movements, similar to Shostakovich’s celebrated Piano Quintet of 1940. But
whereas Shostakovich’s work is often contemplative in character, Weinberg’s
Quintet is more extrovert as a whole. It is tempting to link the work’s serious
tone to the war itself - Weinberg had left his family behind when he fled his
native Poland – but unlike some of his later pieces, there are no concrete clues
to this effect, such as quotations or self-quotations from songs. The piano
part is particularly demanding, with several extended solos. A remarkable
recording exists of the composer performing the piece with the Borodin Quartet
– testament to his pianistic proficiency.
The work’s opening phrase is
immediately striking, with an austere tone that sets the mood for the first movement
and the whole piece. The piano is pitted against the strings, with the quartet
providing punctuating gestures to the piano’s weightier thematic statements.
The dotted rhythm of the second theme allows the strings to dominate, but only
briefly before the opening theme returns in a thunderous restatement.
The second movement alternates a
sinuous theme in the muted strings with a hectic solo from the piano. The latter’s
triplet figurations rapidly expand to the whole ensemble, before reducing to a skeletal
macabre texture, with the strings playing several eerie passages with the back
of the bow – col legno.
The third movement is a Presto that opens
with muted flurries in the strings, soon joined by octaves high in the piano that
create a feeling of tense expectation. This mood is shattered by a series of strenuous
scales and trills, before a central dance section in which elements reminiscent
of Klezmer and even a brief Chopin-esque passage for solo piano combine to
emphasise the ‘cabaret’ feel already latent in the previous movement.
The long-drawn Largo rapidly darkens
the mood, providing a sobering contrast to the previous manic jubilation; its
character is stark, verging on melancholic. A line of implacable octaves sets
the tone. The first violin delivers a mournful solo, before a strident burst of
major tonality in the piano. Energy accumulates, before a heart-rending flurry
of passion. The quasi-recitative theme once again moves to the solo piano,
before a morendo close. A
contemporary reviewer described this movement as ‘disturbingly lyrical and
deeply meditative’.
With such contrasts already
encountered, the final movement has several questions to address, which is does
with a succession of strongly characterised themes. It opens with strident,
almost machine-like pulsations, with aggressive interjections from the piano.
Syncopated rhythms abound. The second theme is unexpected: firmly in the major,
it presents a folk-like dance, playful and mischievous, like an east-European
take on an Irish jig. The piano contrasts with a jazz-like canon, before the
first violin reintroduces the opening movement’s first theme, taking up a
thread that serves to unite the whole work. This is soon combined with the folk-like
melody in an unsettling blend. The juxtaposition builds to become more jarring
before a fiery restatement of the first movement theme in full. Energy
dissipates for the work’s close, softly concluding in a troublingly
inconclusive F major.
