Janáček The diary of one who disappeared

 Day 37

Janáček The diary of one who disappeared

Ian Bostridge

Ruby Philogene

Thomas Adès

My first experience of Janáček was listening to the Sinfonietta on an old second hand 10 inch mono LP on a small record player - I doubt that I got the full experience of the mass trumpet fanfares! I played the Lachian Dances in youth orchestra but although those are charming they are hardly representative of the composer's mature style. The only other Janáček I have played is the Glagolitic Mass - well it would be more accurate to say part of the Glagolitic Mass. It is horrendously difficult to perform and we had to abandon a couple of movements as beyond us. Even that wasn't enough, because I remember the performance breaking down completely at one point!

I was extremely fortunate to have as a lecturer and then as my PhD supervisor the great scholar of Czech music John Tyrrell. He was then beginning to make a name for himself as the UK's foremost expert on Janáček - partly through his very extensive notes for the ground breaking series of opera recordings conducted by Charles Mackerras. I read all of John's books on Janáček as they came out, culminating in his definitive two-volume biography of the composer. I got to know all of the operas during that time and they remain very close to my heart.

I knew about the diary of one who disappeared but I had never listened to it before today. What an extraordinary piece it is. Essentially it is a song cycle for tenor and piano but has a role for a female alto soloist and requires three offstage women's voices for several of the songs. It also has an extended movement for solo piano.  The whole thing takes about half an hour and within that time there are 22 separate songs, some lasting under a minute. The tenor line lies cruelly high - the last piece ends up with two spectacular top Cs and it must be an enormous undertaking to sing. The piano part is equally demanding.  The music is endlessly fascinating, with all of the characteristics of Janáček's mature style, including repeated short ostinato figures, speech rhythms and lyrical phrases punctuated by more declamatory outburst. 

I wouldn't like to listen to a live performance in a small room. With the tenor and the piano both at full belt the noise level is quite something. At times one felt that the composer was thinking in orchestral terms and that the piano was attempting to replicate the sound of a full orchestra, but at other times the music was reduced to a mere whisper.

You do need to be able to follow a translation closely when listening here - this is not a piece to lie back and absorb in the background. It probably needs several hearings before you get anything like a full understanding of what Janáček was trying to do. But for a first hearing I certainly got a lot out of this and will certainly go back to it again.