And who should appear as the MC of the floor show, but "Count Almaviva" himself -- one Victor Demidov. In fluent English, Demidov introduced a lovely young singer, who performed a superb medley of Gershwin songs. Damned if it wasn't "Suzanna"! (Tatiana Coboleva). This was in celebration of the Gershwin centennial.
George Gershwin, by the way, was the son of Russia immigrants, as were the famous American composers Aaron Copland and Leonard Bernstein.
Also featured that evening was a jazz combo consisting (with one exception) of faculty members at Saratov University -- members, not of the Music but of the Science and Engineering Departments. At our request, they played several Ellington numbers (it was also the Duke's centennial year).
Good news! Jazz is alive and well in Saratov, Russia! We haven't heard live jazz of this quality for several years -- not in New York or San Francisco. Not, at least, since we heard Gerry Mulligan, Charles Mingus and Charlie Byrd among others at the Village Vanguard in New York City over four decades ago. (Our recent searches for quality live jazz in San Francisco have usually been disappointing).
During the intermissions, we had long conversations with Victor Demidov, who demonstrated that his command of English was authentic. Obviously pleased at our astonishment at and enthusiasm for the eclectic performances of his colleagues -- classical, popular and jazz -- he explained how the Saratov musicians have struggled and persisted, despite the loss of state support for the arts. A Russian city without music, he explained, was unthinkable.
Demidov was one of the most charming and immediately likeable persons that we have ever met in the dozen or so countries that we visited during the Nineties.
I offer these stories as validation of Isaac Stern's observation regarding "the soul of Russia." Truly, to the Russians, "music is as necessary as bread." And I would further suggest that if one fails to hear the soul of Russia in the compositions and performances of Russian musicians, one will, like P. J. O'Rourke, be ill-prepared to recognize that soul anywhere else.
Copyright 2014 by Ernest Partridge
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