1976 LP text:
Galina Ivanovna Ustvolskaya was born in Leningrad. She began her musical education in a choir, learning to play the cello. Later, she attended a ten-year music school and then entered the composition faculty of the Leningrad Conservatory under Dmitri Shostakovich. Her studies were interrupted by World War II, during which she worked as a cultural worker in an evacuation hospital in Tikhvin. After the war, Ustvolskaya completed her education at the conservatory and became a member of the Union of Composers. During this time, she also pursued postgraduate studies and began teaching at a music school. For several years, she was a seminar teacher for amateur composers at the Leningrad Composer's Organization.
In the work of great masters, it is usually easy to discern points of contact with the music of other authors, both predecessors and contemporaries. But sometimes there are precious minerals with such internal refraction strength that the light falling on them is difficult to recognize. These are artists who sharply break with established norms and build a musical world according to their own laws. Such is Ustvolskaya.
Many of Ustvolskaya's compositions, now being premiered for the first time, were written 20-25 years ago. And when after premieres people say, "How fresh! How contemporary! It sounds as if it were written today!" – it becomes evident how subjective were those critics who accused the composer of being incommunicative, rigid, or "narrow." Not everyone understood that this "narrowness" is like the narrowness of a laser beam cutting through metal.
Indeed, the composer does not employ "various" means. Ustvolskaya's art is not entertaining. It contains only the most essential, necessary elements. There are no square, symmetrical constructions in her works. The rhythm is straightened. There are no frills or caprices. Long chains of equal durations (usually quarters) are grouped into polyphonic structures. Meaning guides accentuation, not a grid. Therefore, Ustvolskaya often abandons bar lines. This seemingly simple system of temporal organization is so convincing and natural that it allows achieving incredible rhythmic intensity with minimal means. The harmonic and timbral aspects of Ustvolskaya's music are equally logical and unconventional.
In her compositions, the level of "art" or, at least, "artistry" seems to disappear. The contact between the composer and the listener is direct, almost without an intermediate link called "a work of art," and the conductivity of this music is as high as its internal "resistance" (a property of noble metals) is low. In this "author-listener" chain, there is almost no loss. The richness and conciseness of the music are such that the value of each note is multiplied many times over. Notes cease to be inconspicuous points in a line; Ustvolskaya's music has a coarse grain structure. The structure of this music is courageous, resolute, and collected. There is no sentimentality, looseness, or verbosity. The composer skillfully and laconically reveals the depths of various states. The deep and melancholic lyricism of the Violin Sonata, the drama of the Octet, the passionate and persuasive preaching of peace and goodness ("Hymn"), the multifaceted yet not garish world of the piano preludes and sonatas, the bitterness and compassion in the First Symphony – these are just a few thematic aspects coexisting in Ustvolskaya's music. Clearly defined individuality, inner strength, and external restraint allow one to regard Ustvolskaya's entire oeuvre as a unified whole, a monolithic, beautiful, and concise sculpture of the human spirit.
Ustvolskaya holds herself to the highest standards, is uncompromising and honest. Deep and elevated correctness permeates the work of this remarkable artist.
Boris Tishchenko
