Frank Dupree Explores the Kapustin Repertoire

If I am to believe my own archives, I first became aware of the (Soviet) Russian composer Nikolai Kapustin through pianist Yuja Wang. When she prepared her program for a Great Performers Series recital in Davies Symphony Hall, she included “Variations for piano,” which was Kapustin’s Opus 41. Since then, I have done my best to learn as much as possible about this composer’s repertoire.

Cover of the album being discussed

From that point of view, my recent encounter with a new Capriccio album with pianist Frank Dupree performing six Kapustin concertante compositions for piano and ensemble was a valuable experience. Notice that I did not write “piano and orchestra.” Only thee of the works are described as such: the Opus 14 (second) piano concerto, the Opus 16 nocturne, and the Opus 25 “Concert Rhapsody.” The other three selections were scored for piano and big band: the Opus 3 set of variations, the Opus 8 toccata, and the Opus 74 (sixth) piano concerto.

Kapustin composed all of these works as a citizen of the Soviet Union. Many might wonder how he got away with it; but, believe it or not, the Soviets did have jazz bands. Kapustin played with one led by Yury Saulsky and subsequently with an orchestra led by another Soviet jazz composer, Oleg Lundstrem. As one might guess, the repertoire did not venture into the bebop style (which had passed by the time Kapustin launched his career) or any of the challenging adventures of post-bop. (One has to wonder whether a copy of Ascension was ever smuggled into the Soviet Union!)

The advance material provided by the Amazon.com Web page for this album describes Kapustin as “this Soviet composer, whose music sounded more like an Oscar Peterson improvisation than anything else.” With all due respect, I have to wonder how familiar the author of that text was with any Peterson originals (or, for that matter, his take on standards). Presumably, Kapustin would have been more familiar with Dmitri Shostakovich’s first Suite for Jazz Orchestra, whose instrumentation included three saxophones and a nod to a drum kit. My guess is that Shostakovich was not so much an influence as an incentive to do better justice to sources from the United States, particularly during the “big band” era.

The six selections on this album, including the two concertos and the “Concert Rhapsody,” probably reflect the kind of music that Soviets would expect and enjoy from their “home-grown” jazz bands. When we listen to them, we can look back in both space and time. Personally, I never really perked up to take notice while listening to those six selections. On the other hand, I also had no trouble sustaining attention across each of them.

While none of those pieces were particularly memorable, they remind me of the old joke that “this is the sort of thing that people who like that sort of thing will like!”