My sister K. once told me a story about an Independence Day parade in a small Minnesota town. It seems that in the late evening hours that lead into the day of the parade, some shameless, knife-brandishing rascals slinked surreptitiously through town and slashed all of the tires on all of the floats that the fine Minnesota citizens of said town had decorated for their parade. Refusing to succumb to the general ill-will, malignity and rancor of these miserable, dispiriting scamps, the parade committee decided to continue with their plans for the parade, having each of the entries –flat-tired floats, marching bands, horse troops, boy scouts, girl scouts, drill teams, corvette clubs, fire trucks, Masons, service clubs and pooper scoopers – line up in parade order. At the time the parade was to start, they asked the parade-watching public to, please, make their way along the parade route … in a type of “un”-parade … so that everyone could see the floats, in addition to all of the other entries.
This scene played through my mind in 1991 and 1993 each time the Crown Odyssey negotiated her way through the parade of islands that line the shipping lanes through Sweden’s archipelago east of Stockholm. For almost three hours, either preceding an entrance to, or after a departure from, the beautiful harbor of Stockholm, I was witness to oasis after oasis; tiny bits of land, big enough for a house, a yard, a dock and a boat; completely surrounded by water. Truthfully, this was one of the quaintest marriages of land- and sea-scape that I ever saw during my time on the high seas.
I found a fantastic CD shop in the busiest part of downtown Stockholm. When I entered the store, I heard the majestic eighteenth variation from Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme by Paganini, bringing me to the realization that I didn’t have a recording of this great work. When I approached the register, I saw the recording that was being fed into the shop’s sound system. Swedish pianist Peter Jablonski had recorded, not only the Rhapsody on a Theme by Paganini, but also the Piano Concerto No. 1 by Dmitiri Shostakovich and the “Paganini Variations” by Polish composer Witold Lutoslawski.
Composers have been haunted by the twenty-fourth caprice of Nicolo Paganini’s Twenty-Four Caprices for Solo Violin before the ink was even dry on the parchment. Robert Schumann, Franz Liszt, Johannes Brahms and Mr. Rachmaninoff are just a few who have found inspiration in the Italian’s virtuosic show piece.
During World War II, Witold Lutoslawski formed a piano duo with fellow pianist and composer Andrzej Panufnik, and for this ensemble Mr. Lutoslawski had written some two-hundred arrangements, of which “Paganini Variations” was the most famous. A few days before the Warsaw Uprising of 1944, Lutoslawski and his mother left Warsaw, taking with him just a few scores, sketches and … the “Paganini Variations”. None of the rest of his compositions survived the destruction of the city.
“Paganini Variations” has become one of the most popular compositions in the two-piano repertoire. Based on Franz Liszt’s version of the variations, Mr. Lutoslawski’s take on the Caprice lasts about eight minutes. In 1978, a concert pianist, I don’t remember who, approached the Polish composer and asked if he would orchestrate the piece for piano and orchestra. The result is a brilliant lesson in orchestration. He didn’t orchestrate just one piano part; he orchestrated both. So that each variation would be played twice back to back; once with the piano playing the part of piano one and the orchestra playing the part of piano two, and then again with each entity switching parts. It is one of the most glorious ten minutes of music on my iPod.
The joy of seeing these two pieces, with a single melody in common, bookend this album was enough for me. But, wait, there’s more. Peter Jablonski is a pianist for the ages. I hear brilliance, excitement and sensitivity in his playing. Rhythmically, he is as solid a player as I’ve ever heard. Let me tell you why. When he was seven years old, he was named the best jazz drummer in Sweden.
Credits: To Witold Lutoslawski, an outstanding composer. Two-hundred two piano arrangements – lost. That’s rough, pal. We are so thankful for your variations. Bravo.
This is the twenty-fifth of my final forty-five CD's.
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