If Russian composer Mikhail Glinka was the father of Russian nationalism, Mily Balakirev was its St. Peter, evangelizing to fellow apostles Mussorgsky, Rimsky-Korsakov, Borodin, and others and therefore acting as "the rock" whereupon Glinka's church was built. Nevertheless, the Balakirev works that have been available on disc for the most part -- the glittering, Lisztian piano fantasia Islamey, the lush and orientalist tone poem Tamara, and his quirky, idiosyncratic symphonies -- certainly sound "Russian," but provide little evidence of what it was in Balakirev's music that motivated the "Mighty Handful" to follow his lead. An 1866 collection of folk songs harmonized by Balakirev is often cited in relevant literature as breaking the ground for the first generation of Russian Nationalists.
Not that this was in any way an easy thing to achieve -- the main supporters of concert life in Russia in Balakirev's time was made up among educated nobles, aristocrats, bureaucrats, well-to-do military officers, and others who looked down upon Russian folk song as the unworthy, culturally poor product of illiterate serfs and peasants. In Russia, the serfs were liberated in 1861, a little later than in most European nations, though not, incidentally, than England! Nevertheless, in 1852 the 14-year-old Balakirev was already making an honest stab at working what he thought were their melodies into his Grand Fantasia on Russian Folksongs for piano and orchestra, Op. 4, recorded on Toccata Classics' Balakirev and Russian Folksong for the first time. Performed by pianist
Joseph Banowetz with the Russian Philharmonic of Moscow under
Konstantin Krimets, the work is far more sophisticated and involved than one would surmise from a composer so young, although the example of
Chopin's piano concerti -- the use of glittering sequences in the solo part and of a spare, restrained orchestral component -- is readily apparent. While the piece consists of moderate and slow movements only and is technically unfinished, it still feels like a coherent whole even as Balakirev left it.
The main event, though, is the 30 Songs of the Russian People, a collection of folk song harmonizations Balakirev created and published in 1898-1900. Balakirev did not personally collect the folk melodies, as he had in the 1866 volume, and here a two-piano version, played by
Banowetz and Alton Chung Ming, is favored over the parallel voice and piano edition that appeared at about the same time. In this realization, singers Olga Kalugina, Svetlana Nikolayeva, and Pavel Kolgatin sing the original folk melodies, unaccompanied, and Balakirev's piano duet harmonizations follow. Some listeners may feel the back and forth nature of this arrangement is a little disorienting, but it makes good musical sense, and Balakirev's settings deliberately avoid attempting to pin down or drive the traditional melodies around harmonically. It is easy to hear how this naked approach helped define the art of setting Russian folk song, not only for Balakirev's immediate circle, but also for others outside it, such as Tchaikovsky. In sum, Toccata Classics' Balakirev and Russian Folksong offers one of the most direct perspectives offered so far on Balakirev's work as an avatar of traditionally tinged Russian Western art music.