Anton Batagov_Strings, Piano (May 1994)

Anton Batagov

Strings, Piano (May 1994)

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Playing time: 43:36

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Alexei Aigui and Ensemble 4'33"

Alexei Aigui, violin
Alexander Kostin, violin
Yevgeny Volchenkov, viola
Alexei Steblev, cello

Anton Batagov, piano

Composed in May 1994
Recorded and mixed in June 1994
Cover: Where time does not exist, a photo image by Alisa Naremontti

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BOOKLET

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LISTEN / BUY

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This recording can already be called “historic”.
I wrote this music in May 1994. My colleague Alexei Aigui, now a famous composer and violinist, was in the process of creating his own ensemble at the time. At the very beginning it was just a classical string quartet: not at all what later became Ensemble 4'33". Alexei planned to play music written by other composers along with his own compositions, so he asked me to write something for string quartet and piano that we could play together.

A few months before that, I started my collaboration with film director Ivan Dykhovichny. He was working on a film in which the main musical theme was my composition Music for December written in December 1993. Its title became the title of the film. And then, in May 1994, Ivan said to me: “Could you write another piece of music that would have something in common with Music for December in some ways, but with a completely different mood? Music for December is bright, sunny, triumphant, but this one – let it be about sadness, about the impossibility of happiness”.

And I said: “You know, a new ensemble has just emerged in Moscow. They're really good young musicians, and I'm just about to write something for them. Would you mind if I take this opportunity to write this piece for this ensemble, and record it for the film?”

Ivan agreed.
I wrote a piece which was almost 45 minutes long. Its mood and slow development resonated somewhat with what Ivan was talking about, but it was clear that only small excerpts could be included in the film. Nevertheless, we went to the Mosfilm music studio and recorded the whole piece – and the film producers paid for it. These were the kind of miracles that sometimes happened in Russian arts in the 1990s.

Now pay attention!
The whole composition was recorded in one take. From the first note to the last, 45 minutes. No edits at all. As a rule, a studio recording is an opportunity to do what is impossible on stage. In a studio you can record each fragment many times, and then choose the best takes, and edit them. On stage, you have only one take. And this recording is actually a “live” recording made in a studio. The performance is really amazing. The music is very slow, and what is difficult is that it should not be played in classical fashion (i.e. with “sensual” vibrato and “classical” type of expression), but in a completely different way – with no vibrato at all, and without all those emotions. And that's incredibly difficult. It is like the playing of village musicians: they are in no hurry to go anywhere, they don't need to “captivate” the audience. Their music is a totally different world, a different state of mind. That's why there is no fuss in their playing. This was the task I set for the performers – and they did it so amazingly that it's hard to believe until you hear it. After all, they were very young guys aged around 20. I myself was 28 at the time.

Only a very short excerpt – about one minute – was included in the film. This composition has never been performed live – neither before nor after the recording. There were a lot of other things going on in my and Alexei's life and work, and it seemed that there was no point in going back to that “old stuff”. So this recording was sitting on a shelf in my apartment.

Thirty years passed, and I came across it. I listened to it. And I was strongly impressed by how it was played, how it sounded. I had forgotten all that, and I hadn't expect this performance to be so magnificent. Honestly, such playing is not even a rarity in terms of current classical performing practice, but something almost impossible. I immediately called Alexei Aigui: “Do you remember this recording?” – “Of course I remember. We did it in one take.” – “Let me send it to you. Listen to it, and I think it should be published.”
Two days later I got a message: “I listened to it. F***ing awesome (ohuenno). We should publish it.”

So here it is. The very first recording of Ensemble 4'33”.
Now it's time to listen.

Anton Batagov

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Since Anton wrote his comment first, my text will turn out to be something of a reply.
I had completely forgotten about this recording, and I'm very glad it suddenly popped up out of nowhere (from Anton's closet).

The year 1994 was a turning point in my life. In a period of complete chaos with a huge amount of hope, a crazy idea came into my head: to create a contemporary music ensemble in Moscow. At the same time I met Anton at the Alternativa festival, and soon we got together in the apartment of a famous music journalist Dmitri Ukhov. By the way, that's the most appropriate of surnames for a musicologist: Ukhov means “a man with ears” in Russian.
He was the one who gave the ensemble its name: Ensemble 4'33''.
For the first concert we searched for sheet music from friends. Some of the scores were given to us by Dmitri Ukhov, some by the musicologist Elena Dubinets, some were found by a wonderful composer Pavel Karmanov, who played in our band for several years and recently passed away.

I remember that after that show Anton said: “You know, this could be your life's work” – to which I replied, at 23, “Well, I don't think so”. But Anton was right.
The ensemble still exists, although we haven't seen each other for more than three years.
Shortly after the first concert (or even before it?) Anton offered to record some of his music for the film Music for December, and it was an unforgettable experience. We gathered at his apartment, and then in some small hall – and started rehearsing what seemed to be a simple music, but it soon became clear that it performing it was a real challenge. Soon we found ourselves in the huge hall of the Mosfilm studio, which turned into my “home” for the next 30 years, and the audio engineer Gennady Papin became my collaborator for many years.

I still remember that moment. Not only because it was probably my first recording in a serious studio, but also because it was a really magical moment. I had a feeling of some kind of trance or meditation. A very slow piece that lasts 45 minutes with just a very minimal variations is almost impossible to play without mistakes, but it turned out to be possible if you just get into this state of serenity and slow bow changes.

Alexei Aigui

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