 KABALEVSKY Cello Concerto No. 2 in c. SCHUMANN Cello Concerto in a  Theodor Lyngstad (vc); Eva Ollikainen, cond; Copenhagen P  OUR 8.226926 (52:39) Live: Copenhagen 4/8–9, 2021. Reviewed from a WAV download: 44.1 kHz/16-bit

What strange bedfellows these two concertos make. If only bedsprings could talk. Dmitry Kabalevsky’s cello concertos, plural—he wrote two of them—have not gone in want of recordings. In back-to-back issues of the magazine (37:5 and 37:6) colleague Phillip Scott and I both reviewed one of the more recent releases to include both concertos in performances by cellist Torleif Thedéen on a CPO disc. And in those reviews we both mentioned in passing other available versions, some offering both Kabalevsky concertos, while other albums included only one of them variously coupled with different works.
Excluding this new recording at hand, the last most recent version of Kabalevsky’s Second Concerto to come Fanfare’s way for review (see 38:5)—if you can call 10 years ago recent—featured cellist Leonard Elschenbroich in a program of works by Kabalevsky and Prokofiev on an Onyx CD.
While it can’t be said that Kabalevsky’s cello concertos are neglected on disc, it can be said that recordings of Schumann’s one and only cello concerto exist in an overabundant glut. And that is only the beginning of what makes this pairing not only most unusual, but to my knowledge, unique.
In a detailed, bar-by-bar analysis of the score, Russian cellist Yuriy Leonovich tells us that “Kabalevsky's Second lacks nothing; it has memorable themes, tightly constructed forms, and plenty of virtuosic passages. It even has a saxophone soloist in the second movement.”
Schumann’s concerto can’t claim a part for saxophone—the instrument hadn’t been invented yet—and some might say it can’t claim much in the way of memorable themes, tightly constructed forms, or plenty of virtuosic passages either. So, what is its source of enduring popularity?
Well, for one thing, it bears the name Robert Schumann as its author, indisputably one of the most original, inspired, and important composers of the 19th century, a composer who was not only a cornerstone of the Romantic period in music, but who, in certain ways, defined the essence of Romanticism.
Despite its high opus number of 129, and contrary to its depressive mood, Schumann’s cello concerto was not written during his last delusional days confined to an asylum for the mentally ill. In fact, it was composed in the short space of two weeks in October of 1850, at a relatively happy time for the Schumann family. Robert had just been appointed to the position of Music Director in Düsseldorf, and things were looking up for him, which makes much of the concerto’s downcast pall hard to explain.
As popular as the piece is today, it wasn’t always so, and even now it still has its critics. The thematic material, and working-out thereof, somehow manage at the same time to be both discursive and repetitive, a flaw that afflicts the composer’s slightly later violin concerto in even greater measure. The cello concerto was not even premiered in Schumann’s lifetime, and when it finally was four years after his death, the score was not well-received.
One thing that the Schumann and Kabalevsky’s Cello Concerto No. 2 do have in common is a perception of through-composed continuity in which the three movements in each work seem conjoined into one. All annotators, however, are in agreement that Kabalevsky’s Second Cello Concerto (1964) is a work of greater gravitas and technical difficulty than his earlier concertos, especially the first three for piano and the First Cello Concerto which were written mainly for students.
Western academics and critics inveighed against Kabalevsky, accusing him of being a shill for the Soviet Communist regime. They weren’t wrong. J. Michael Allen, in a March 2024 program note for the Madison Symphony Orchestra, summed it up as follows: “Dmitri Kabalevsky was one of the leading composers of the Soviet Union, and worked comfortably for his entire career in the restrictive atmosphere of Soviet music. Kabalevsky’s musical style was never even remotely “modernist” and suited perfectly the ideal that music should be uplifting and in service of the people. A loyal member of the Communist Party, he enthusiastically supported Soviet musical policies and held several important political positions and editorships. Interested in the cause of education, Kabalevsky also helped to formulate the Soviet music education system, writing dozens of works for children’s choir, and later in his career, influential books on teaching music.”
Meanwhile, Western audiences, as opposed to academics and critics, didn’t seem bothered that Kabalevsky was, in all likelihood, one of the Soviet regime’s useful idiots. His “never even remotely Modernist music” was tuneful, colorful, dramatic, largely upbeat and optimistic—God knows, it had to be, considering the pogroms, privations, and agricultural failures that left millions starving—and was readily embraced by listeners for whom even a loyal Communist comrade could compose music that wasn’t an assault on the ears.
This new OUR album introduces young Norwegian cellist Theodor Lyngstad in his recording debut. Studies at the Royal Danish Academy of Music were followed by further training at the Manhattan School of Music in New York. Since then, Lyngstad has been active as a chamber musician and along the way, has earned a number of regional and national awards, most significantly, the Léonie Sonning Talent Prize. In 2019, he achieved the distinction of being the youngest musician to be seated in the principal cellist’s chair of the Copenhagen Philharmonic.
With two entries in the Fanfare archive, Eva Ollikainen is not new to the magazine, but her appearance on the podium of the Copenhagen Philharmonic for the present recording must have been in the capacity of guest conductor, for she is not listed as the current or any past permanent conductor of the orchestra.
Mix and mastering, balance engineer, and recording producer Daniel Davidsen must also share credit for the success of this terrific recording. In the eerily haunting first movement of the Kabalevsky you will hear the groaning of the double basses, as if from the grave, sending a cryogenic chill through your bones, as the solo cello’s pizzicatos tiptoe among the tombs. Lyngstad and the Copenhagen orchestra under Ollikainen are riveting.
This may not be uppercase “Modernist” music in the sense of avant-garde, but it’s definitely lowercase “modern,” with Romantic roots that penetrate deep into both Russian folk music and the mysticism of the Eastern Orthodox Church.
Lyngstad’s playing is nothing short of amazing. It’s not just his technical chops that enable him to navigate the most virtuosic passages in the Kabalevsky with ease that make his performance edge-of-your seat exciting, it’s the feeling of intense emotional involvement he projects in the softer, lyrical passages that are deeply moving and that elevate the piece, in my opinion, by more than a notch or two in the cello concerto repertoire.
If you love Schumann’s concerto, Lyngstad’s performance is one to luxuriate in. It exceeds in expressivity even those that frequently get top billing in that department—namely those by Jacqueline du Pré, János Starker, Rostropovich, Leonard Rose, and Yo-Yo Ma. This is not to suggest that Lyngstad’s Schumann violates the boundaries of what is considered proper and in good taste, but rather that through a combination of radiant tone and sensitivity to the nuances of phrase, he brings out details in the line that take you by surprise and make you catch your breath. It’s almost like becoming reacquainted with an old friend you thought you knew well.
For example, in the first movement’s development section, beginning in bar 133 (at 5:01 in this performance) Lyngstad plays the notes marked marcato (with more force or volume) in a more martellato (heavily accented and detached) way than I’ve heard other cellists play them. All players invest the notes with more force, but it’s the separated or detaché way in which Lyngstad takes them that makes you sit up and take notice.
If I keep coming back to the sound that Daniel Davidsen has achieved on this recording—and a “live” one to boot—it’s because I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a vivid, detailed phonographic reproduction. Put that together with the most extraordinary playing by Lyngstad and the Copenhagen Philharmonic under the baton of Eva Ollikainen and you have one very powerful elixir. These are artists and an artistic team we need to hear more from, the sooner the better. Jerry Dubins

Five stars: A Kabalevsky to shiver your timbers and the Schumann like you’ve never heard it before