From the very first page, I discovered with some embarrassment that my mental construct of Russian music was a completely unconsidered acceptance of the project of concert promoters and propagandists. I suppose it’s worse when you think you know something about your subject.
Try this for size, on page 49, speaking of the success of Firebird, the Rimsky-Korsakov ballets and Balakirev’s Tamara:
“For the French, and later for the English audiences of Diaghilev’s Saisons, Russian music was forever associated with its colourful packaging, and this image was passed along to later generations. This music was itself heard as bright, decorative, exotic and fantastic; no Russian tragic soul was in view.”
She goes on to say “It is important to realize that the Saisons Russes were entirely conceived for the export market; no such venture could have been undertaken in Russia…”
There’s hardly a paragraph without insights like these, and as I read on, it’s like someone drawing the curtains to reveal that the room I’ve been standing in is altogether different to how I imagined it. This is the music I grew up with, the music I earned my living from, and the building where I now work is steeped in paraphernalia of this period. I guess it’s not too late to take a critical look at your surroundings, but it’s a weird (yet wonderful) feeling.
By bizarre coincidence, Marina Frolova-Walker was giving a lecture on her subject at the RA on the very day and at the very time when I was visiting the From Russia exhibition (see previous entry). I wish I’d known.