Though not designated as such, Alfred Schnittke’s First Cello Sonata (1978) could be an homage to Shostakovich, from its melancholy opening to the second movement Presto (echoing the fugal passage in the Presto of Shostakovich’s Fourth Symphony as well as distorted, mechanistic rhythms reminiscent of Russian experimental composers of the 1920s), concluding with a Largo that gradually suggests a bleak, if profound, spiritual emptiness. Gerhardt and Osborne are perfectly attuned to the music’s nuances and more expressive gestures. There’s a riveting atmosphere to the first movement—note Osborne’s sensitive handling of the entrance of hymnlike chords in the piano as the cello snarls—and the similarly sustained mood in the finale, from the opening cry of anguish to the delicately phrased final notes. Simply put, this is the most convincing version of this sonata I’ve ever heard. Equally haunting is Gerhardt’s intensely focused performance of the Madrigal in Memoriam Oleg Kagan—stark, mournful notes, some whispered, others ringing out, that coalesce into a moving lament. Klingende Buchstaben (“Sounding Letters”), a short occasional piece dedicated to the cellist Alexander Ivashkin, hasn’t the depth of feeling of the Sonata or the Madrigal, but Gerhardt probes for its lyrical qualities.

Unfortunately, the disc ends with seven bon-bons transcribed from Shostakovich’s film, theater, and ballet scores by various arrangers—the eighth is the composer’s own brief Moderato for cello and piano, probably from an abandoned piece contemporary with his Cello Sonata. Surely, they should have been programmed between the Shostakovich and Schnittke works, so as not to disrupt the deeply moving ending of the Schnittke sonata. Despite this production misstep, and the few reservations I have towards Gerhardt and Osborne’s Shostakovich, this disc is highly recommended for their gripping articulation of Schnittke’s despair.

FANFARE: Art Lange