The Russians Are Coming is film director Norman Jewison’s silly 1966 comedy about a Soviet-era submarine that runs aground off Cape Cod, Massachusetts, sending the local citizenry into unfounded Cold-War hysterics. In the last two decades, there’s been another kind of Russian invasion: a flood of musicians, dancers and theatrical artists. This artistic outpouring was largely caused by the collapse of the USSR in 1991. On one hand, this triggered a financial meltdown for many Russian musicians, due to deep funding cuts for cultural institutions and activities. On the other hand, it allowed Russian musicians to travel much more freely.
Even Russia’s most esteemed musicians found that in order to succeed in the new environment, they needed new skills: entrepreneurial savvy, a competitive spirit, and sheer determination. “In Russia in the 1990s,” the famous Russian conductor Valery Gergiev told me in an interview a few years ago, “you couldn’t possibly plan by thinking first about money. You must have your plans – and if you have artistic force, the money will find you.”
Like many Western cities, Toronto has benefited from the political and economic upheavals half a world away. Since the 1990s, Toronto has played host to such Russian pianists as Evgeny Kissin, Boris Berman, Michael Berkovsky, Olga Kern and Alexander Toradze (he’s Georgian, strictly speaking). Concert-pianist Alexander Tselyakov lives here. So do Inna Perkis and Boris Zarankin, who run Toronto’s Off Centre Music Salon.
And that’s just the pianists: we also get a parade of Russian conductors, singers, instrumental soloists, chamber musicians, even the occasional opera director. We also get large ensembles – most notably, Gergiev’s Kirov Orchestra of St. Petersburg, which has visited Toronto three times. The next big Russian ensemble to visit will be the National Philharmonic Orchestra, with pianist Denis Matsuev, which makes its Toronto debut at Roy Thomson Hall on April 28.
In March, violist/conductor Yuri Bashmet brought his Moscow Soloists to Roy Thomson Hall. Following a masterclass that he gave at the Remenyi House of Music the day before the concert, I had a chance to interview him. I soon learned that when speaking about his chamber orchestra, he’s anything but modest.
“It’s the best orchestra,” Bashmet stated with matter-of-fact directness. “I’ve heard many orchestras, and this is the truth – it’s not just publicity. It’s because they are musicians from the best schools, and we began the orchestra together. The chamber orchestra is 16 years old, and only two musicians have changed.”
However, back in 1991, everything had changed. Bashmet’s first chamber orchestra – also called the Moscow Soloists – suddenly disbanded in 1991 when all the players decided to relocate to Western Europe. Undaunted, by this “divorce,” he rebuilt his chamber orchestra in Russia with the players he leads today.
Bashmet’s astonishing concert at Roy Thomson Hall the next evening underscored his grand claim about “the best orchestra”. But the collapse of the Moscow Soloists in 1991 had underscored something else. Russia had officially joined the capitalist world. But Russia’s musical culture hadn’t quite adjusted to the new way of doing things. Things happen there that probably couldn’t happen elsewhere.
“I cannot say that a new system is well established,” says Vladimir Spivakov, conductor of the National Philharmonic Orchestra, by phone from Moscow. “But even in this current ‘un-system,’ when the government doesn’t want someone to go away, they organize an orchestra.”
Spivakov speaks from experience. Six years ago, he abruptly resigned from the National Orchestra of Russia, over a dispute with the ensemble’s chief administrator (a former KGB officer). “I broke the contract, because I could not accept how he behaved with the musicians,” Spivakov explains. “Musicians are not soldiers, or slaves.”
“Mr. Putin called me, when he heard this news, and said that he didn’t want me to leave Russia – and had I thought about a new national orchestra? I said no, and he said I should start to think about it.” The result was the creation of the National Philharmonic. “I listened to 400 musicians,” Spivakov recalls, “and I chose the best 100.”
Putin’s name often arises in conversations about music in Russia – and prominent Russian musicians are careful to pay their respects. Indeed, the level of political involvement in culture in Russia would horrify Canadians who are more comfortable with government at “arm’s length”. On the other hand, Putin’s interest shows just how important classical music is in Russia. (Which of Canada’s political leaders could name the conductor of Ottawa’s National Arts Centre Orchestra?)
Spivakov is clearly grateful to Putin for his support. And Bashmet offers unalloyed praise for the Russian leader. “If he says yes to something, then it will be done. And he doesn’t say yes if he can’t do it. That’s why I like him.”
What does all this mean to concert-goers in Toronto? It means that those musicians who are resourceful enough to navigate the difficult economic and political waters of today’s Russia – such as Gergiev, Spivakov and Bashmet – will continue to grace our concert halls. And with the current downturn in the world’s economy, we may well hear more of them.
“They all want to come here,” says Svetlana Dvoretskaia of Show One Productions, who points out that international touring brings Russian musicians both money and prestige. “But they can’t just come to Canada. To work, it has to be a tour of North America – especially with the big groups.”
Born into a musical family in St. Petersburg, Dvoretskaia is well connected in artistic circles in Russia. She moved to Canada in 1998 and since 2004 she’s brought many Russian musicians to Toronto – including the Moscow Soloists last month, and the National Philharmonic of Russia this month. Much of her audience is drawn from the 250,000 people in the GTA who are of Russian descent (or belong to some other former Soviet nationality). But she also attracts a “mainstream” audience – and in the last five years she’s learned a thing or two about promoting classical music in Canada.
“Toronto audiences are very conservative,” she says. “They will go and see the same orchestra every year, but it’s hard to get them to hear an artist whom they may not know so well. That’s a serious challenge. I’ve presented Gidon Kremer, and the Borodin Quartet – and it was a huge challenge to get the mainstream audience out.”
During the Cold War, political tensions made appearances by Russian artists rare and fascinating events. Today the appearances are no longer rare, but the fascination remains. The current “un-system” (as Spivakov puts it) seems to be working in our favour, creating a survival-of-the-fittest musical culture that produces remarkable results.
To be sure, there have been some problems. In 2002, the St. Petersburg Philharmonic was ordered off a plane in Washington DC, en route from Amsterdam to Los Angeles, because of drunk and disorderly conduct. Two years earlier, the entire Moscow Philharmonic was impersonated in Hong Kong. A concert-manager there had engaged (what he thought was) the renowned orchestra; a plane-load of (presumably) Russian musicians claiming to be the Moscow Phiharmonic landed, played several concerts to critical acclaim, picked up their paycheques, reboarded their plane and left. It was not until several weeks later that the real Moscow Philharmonic (which was on tour in Europe through all this) learned of the hoax.
Such shenanigans aside, we should be glad both for the Russians who arrive, and those who are here to stay.
