Red, White, and Blue Notes: The Symbiotic Music of Nikolai Kapustin

UNIVERSITY OF CINCINNATI
Date:___________________

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hereby submit this work as part of the requirements for the degree of:

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May 19, 2007
Jonathan Edward Mann
Doctor of Musical Arts
Piano Performance
Red, White, and Blue Notes: The Symbiotic Music of Nikolai Kapustin
James Tocco
Robert Zierolf, Ph.D.
Michael Chertock

Red, White, and Blue Notes:
The Symbiotic Music of Nikolai Kapustin

Submitted to the
Graduate Division of the
University of Cincinnati
In partial fulfillment of the requirements
For the degree

Doctor of Musical Arts
in Piano Performance

By
J onathan Edward Mann

B.M., Indiana University, 1999
M.M., Indiana University, 2001

May 19, 2007

1301 E. 5
th
St. #13
Moscow, ID 83843

Advisor: Professor J ames Tocco

Abstract

Nikolai Kapustins solo piano music synthesizes classical form and jazz texture. He uses
the language of jazz improvisation, but does not improvise. Instead, a jazz vernacular is
presented in a contrapuntally dense framework of thematic organization, development,
and restatement. Kapustins output is enormous, consisting of over 120 opus numbers for
nearly all instrumental combinations in the codified Baroque, Classical, and Romantic
forms including concertos, sonatas,, and etudes. No matter how vivid the incorporation of
jazz may be, whether it be blues licks, symphonic stride, or propelling bebop
syncopations, the level of workmanship and compositional technique are qualities that
inescapably link Kapustins music to the classical world.

This document posits whether Kapustins music is classical or jazz, investigates
Kapustins musical background and education, and establishes his place in the history of
jazz in Russia. It concludes with analyses of three solo piano works, Sonatina, Op. 100,
Prelude No. 9 in E Major, Op. 53, and Fugue No. 1 in C Major, Op. 82.

iii

iv

Acknowledgments

First and foremost, I would like to thank Nikolai Kapustin for graciously agreeing to
share details about his life and music amidst a busy recording schedule.

Heartfelt thanks to Professor J ames Tocco for serving as advisor and musical mentor
since 2002. Additional thanks to Professor Robert Zierolf, Ph.D. and Professor Michael
Chertock for their patience and critical feedback.

Special thanks go to Cyril Moshkow, journalist and editor of www.jazz.ru for shedding
invaluable light on the history of jazz in the Soviet Union, and Malcom Henbury-Ballan
for help compiling the works list.

This project could not have been possible without the generous support of Brendan
Kinsella, Dr. Robert Auler, Gregory Martin, Todd-Davis Germaine, Dr. Steven Spooner,
Dr. Leonard Garrison, and all of those who believe in the notion that we has a several
meaning.

Finally, thanks to my family and colleagues and students at the University of Idaho
Lionel Hampton School of Music for their patience and understanding.

This document is dedicated to the memory of musician, musicologist, and grandfather
extraordinaire, Dr. Alfred Mann (1917-2006).

v

Table of Contents

I. Abstract

II. Acknowledgments

III. Chapter One: Classical or J azz? The Symbiotic Music of Nikolai Kapustin.1

IV. Chapter Two: Nikolai Kapustins Musical Development and Place in the History of
J azz in the Soviet Union23

V. Chapter Three: Reconciling Classical Form and J azz Harmony in Sonatina, Op.
100..37

VI. Chapter Four: Harmonic Analysis of Prelude No. 9 in E Major, Op. 53.66

VII. Chapter Five: Formal Analysis of Fugue No. 1 in C Major, Op. 82...87

VIII. Bibliography.....117

IX. Appendix..121
vi

Chapter One

Classical or Jazz? The Symbiotic Music of Nikolai Kapustin

to be famous isnt important. I dont want to become famous.
1

Nikolai Girshevich Kapustin (b.1937)

In 2006, a video appeared on the Internet in which composer-pianist Nikolai
Kapustin plays his Impromptu, Op. 83, for solo piano.
2
Motionless, emotionless, and clad
in an impeccably tailored grey suit, Kapustin executes a rigidly structured work one
might expect from a classically trained composer-pianist. The music is intricate,
virtuosic, and rooted in the tradition of late Romantic European piano playing. This
comes as no surprise: Kapustin obtained a diploma in piano performance from the
Moscow Conservatory, studying under Alexander Goldenweiser, a classmate of Sergei
Rachmaninoff and Alexander Scriabin. What does come as a surprise, however, is that
Kapustins musical language does not evoke the sounds of the great classical masters.
Incredibly, Kapustins sound-world is jazz. And it is not merely a superficial
appropriation of jazz, as in Dmitri Shostakovichs two suites for jazz orchestra, or the
coopting of blue notes, as in Maurice Ravels two piano concerti and Igor Stravinskys
Ebony Concerto. Unlike other classical composers who have used jazz elements in their
compositions, Kapustin has years of experience performing in high-profile jazz combos
and big bands, including those led by Russians J uri Saulsky and Oleg Lundstrm.

1
Martin Anderson, Nikolai Kapustin, Russian Composer of Classical J azz, Fanfare 24, no. 1
(September/October 2000): 98.
2
Nikolai Kapustin, Impromptu, Op. 66 no. 2, Nikolaikapustin.net, Real Media video file,
http://gmlile.brinkster.net/kapustin/kapustinvideo.html (accessed October 19, 2006).
1
In his compositions, Kapustin uses the language of jazz improvisation, but does
not improvise. Instead, a jazz vernacular is presented in a contrapuntally dense
framework of thematic organization, development, and restatement. The overall effect
can be summarized in a hypothetical scenario: Art Tatum and Herbie Hancock, having
studied counterpoint with Simon Sechter and composition with Sergei Prokofiev, adopted
a son, named him Nikolai, and raised him in a musically bilingual household.
3
What
results is a symbiotic compositional technique in which two genres are fused but kept
genetically distinct: classical structure hosts jazz texture. The music is never eclectic, nor
does it rely on allusion; it consistently sounds like jazz but can never escape its overall
atmosphere of diligent pre-meditation. Over the course of the four-minute Impromptu
video, the listener is forced to reconcile many dichotomies, most importantly, whether
this music is classical or jazz.
In 2000, Hyperion Records released a recording of solo piano music of Kapustin,
played by Stephen Osborne.
4
Interest in the recording sparked two interviews for Fanfare
and International Piano Quarterly magazines, and since then, with the help of concert
pianist Marc-Andr Hamelin, who, in 2001 and 2005, also recorded Kapustins piano
music, the music has officially entered the international spotlight.
5
Kapustins greatest
fear has now been realized: he is famous.
Helping to seal Kapustins fame, publishers in Russia and J apan are now issuing
his scores, which, up until the early 2000s, were practically impossible to find without

3
Simon Sechter (1788-1867), an Austrian teacher, theorist, organist, and professor of composition at the
Vienna Conservatorium, taught counterpoint to Franz Schubert, Anton Bruckner, and Eduard Marxsen,
who later taught J ohannes Brahms.
4
Kapustin, Nikolai Kapustin Piano Music, Steven Osborne, Hyperion, CDA67159, 2000.
5
Kaleidoscope, Marc-Andr Hamelin, Hyperion, CDA67275, 2001; Kapustin, Nikolai Kapustin Piano
Music, Marc-Andr Hamelin, Hyperion, CDA67433, 2004.
2
resorting to clandestine trading of blurry manuscripts.
6
Kapustins music has even found
its way to the piano competition circuit, which speaks to the confidence musicians have
in his work.
7
More and more performers, pianophiles, and other music lovers are
clamoring to experience his ingeniously riveting music.
As Kapustins music enters the international musical lexicon, public and critical
reaction has struggled to categorize it. Confusion abounds as terms such as crossover,
fusion, and Third Stream are tossed around. One aficionado, after listening to the
Osborne disc, was unable to reconcile Kapustins sound.
I wonder how the recording label, Hyperion, decided to put this in the classical
category. Probably they did so because Kapustin himself called these pieces
Sonata or Prelude. But, truth to tell, Im hard pressed to find very much in the
way of easily identifiable classical music procedures here.
8

Easily identifiable, no, but if this skeptic had the good fortune to read from the printed
score he would come to the conclusion that the procedures found in Kapustins sonatas
and those found in the sonatas of Ludwig van Beethoven, for example, are quite similar.
Leslie DeAth, in his Musicweb International article Nikolai Kapustin, A
Performers Perspective writes that Kapustins style is crossover, in the best sense of the
term, and belongs to the third stream trend of the later twentieth century.
9
Third
Stream pioneer Gunther Schuller might take umbrage with this statement. While
Kapustins music may sound like jazz, it never incorporates improvisation, crucial to
some Third Stream music. Regarding his own compositions, Kapustin explains:

6
The Russian edition is A-Ram (Moscow) and the J apanese edition is Zen-on Music Co., Ltd. (Tokyo).
7
In 1999, Vasily Primakov, a prize winner in the Cleveland International Piano Competition, played two
movements of Kapustins Sonata No. 2, Op. 54.
8
J . Scott Morrison, It Doesnt Matter What You Call It, Amazon.com,
http://www.amazon.com/Kapustin-Piano-Music-Nikolai/dp/B00004TARX (accessed February 2, 2007).
9
Leslie DeAth, Nikolai Kapustin, A Performers Perspective, MusicWeb International,
http://www.musicweb-international.com/classrev/2002/J un02/Kapustin.htm (accessed December 13, 2006).
3
I have very few jazz compositions that are really jazz . . . There is no need to
improvise with my music, although it is jazz . . . you can make improvisation only
by creation; you cannot make an improvisation of a sonata.
10

Kapustin adds, Im not interested in improvisationand what is a jazz musician without
improvisation? But Im not interested, because its not perfect.
11

Adding to the bewilderment regarding Kapustins classification is the double
meaning of the term fusion. A University of Florida Performing Arts press release
detailing the Ahn Trios performance of Kapustins Divertissement for Violin, Cello and
Piano, Op. 126 (2005) states, The fusion of Kapustins composition and the Ahns
performance creates a fresh and vibrant sound that is different from traditional chamber
music.
12
In jazz history, fusion, an adjective, refers to the movement begun in the late
1960s and 1970s by the likes of Gary Burton, Miles Davis, and Chick Corea, in which
jazz fused with rock. This is to be kept separate from the general use of the word as a
noun, as when Kapustin states, The interesting thing for me was always this fusion
between classical and jazz, classical forms and a jazzy idiom.
13
Is the University of
Florida press release referring to Kapustins fusion composition, or the fusion of the
musics ingenuity with the performers personalities?
Before Kapustins music can be defined as either classical or jazz, parameters
must be drawn. As of the twenty-first century, the terms classical and jazz have
become so diluted as to lose a great deal of defining specificity. This watering down is
due to the fact that both genres have reached and passed their entropic climaxes. Once an

10
Anderson, 96.
11
Ibid.
12
Ahn Trio Performs World Premiere of New Work at University Auditorium on Sunday, September 17,
2006, University of Florida Performing Arts, http://www.performingarts.ufl.edu/pdfs/AhnTrioRelease.pdf
(accessed September 9, 2006).
13
Harriet Smith, Bridging the Divide, Piano Quarterly 4, no. 13 (Autumn 2000): 55.
4
art form has explored the ordered as well as chaotic extremes of its own spectrum, a
unified definition of what that art form is becomes increasing elusive. The universal
descriptor classical can, for example, refer to the attributes of the ancient Greeks and
Romans, something that can be used as a standard or model of excellence (regardless of
place in history), and, in its broadest musical meaning, serious music as opposed to
popular music. Therefore, classical music includes the hyperpolyphony of
Renaissance master J osquin des Prez (ca.1450-1521), the ber-Romantic
gesamtkunstwerk of Richard Wagner (1813-1883), and the aleatory of the avant-garde
J ohn Cage (1912-1992). Likewise, jazz includes the Harlem stride of pianist Willie
The Lion Smith (1897-1973), the gospel-tinged hard bop of Charles Mingus (1922-
1979), as well as the mystic cacophony of Sun Ra (1914-1993), not to mention three
distinct historical incarnations of Miles Davis (1926-1991).
In Western musicology, Classical is also capitalized in order to refer to the
musical trends during the years ca.1750-1820. Yet even within this period there is a
considerable range of styles, from the florid Rococo, or early Classical period, to the
perfect reconciliation of Galant and counterpoint by Franz J oseph Haydn, to the vast,
pre-Romantic expanses of Ludwig van Beethovens cosmos. Therefore, when a reviewer
of Kapustins music exclaims, At last! A worthwhile jazz-classical fusion! what exactly
is he stating?
14

As light emits characteristics of being both particle and wave, Kapustins music
displays characteristics of both classical and jazz. However, unlike the mysterious
properties of photons, Kapustins mystery is easily solvable: it is classical music, due to
the fact that classical music generally

14
Eric Levi, CD Review, Classic CD 15, no. 6 (2000): 67.
5
1) Does not incorporate improvisation
15

2) Focuses on classical formal disciplines
3) Is defined by the notated version, rather than a particular performance
4) Is scored for and performed by a wide array of instrumental and vocal
combinations
5) Is concerned with straight rhythms
6) Focuses on large-scale tonal plans

This is in distinct contrast to jazz, which generally
1) Relies heavily on improvisation
2) Is formally limited; form exists to stimulate musical imagination
3) Is defined by a particular interpretation and/or particular performance of a work
4) Is scored for and performed by big band or small combo
5) Is concerned with swing and syncopation
16

6) Focuses on shorter harmonic sequences

While Kapustins music adheres strictly to classical criteria one through four, criteria five
and six find themselves straddling both worlds.
A great deal of Kapustins textures are saturated with syncopation, but not
necessarily with the phenomenon of swing. Swing is a rhythmic intuition that translates a
straight notation, such as example 1a, into something comparable to example 1b.

Ex. 1a: Paraphrased theme from J ohann Sebastian Bachs Invention No. 1 in C Major, BWV
772.
17

15
Notably excepting cadenzas.
16
Notably excepting free and avant-garde jazz.
17
J ohann Sebastian Bach, Keyboard Music (New York: Dover, 1970), 271.
6

Ex. 1b: Example 1a realized in swing notation.

Even though a classic jazz tune such as Charlie Parkers Ornithology is traditionally
notated in straight eighth-notes (example 2a), in performance it would be swung, closer
in execution to example 2b.

Ex. 2a: Charlie Parker, Ornithology, mm. 1-5.
18

Ex. 2b: Charlie Parker, Ornithology, mm. 1-5, realized in swung notation.

18
Chuck Sher and Michael Zisman, eds., The Real Easy Book, Vol. 2: Tunes for Intermediate Improvisers
(Petaluma, CA: Sher Music, 2003), 139.
7
To address this jazz performance practice, Kapustin either rhythmically notates swing, as
in his Prelude No. 17 in A-Flat Major, Op. 53 (example 3a), or indicates in the score that
a particular straight line is to be swung, as in his Prelude no. 7 in A Major, Op. 53
(example 3b).

Ex. 3a: Kapustin, Prelude No. 17 in A-Flat Major, Op. 53, mm. 17-20.
19

Ex. 3b: Kapustin, Prelude No. 7 in A Major, Op. 53, mm. 17-20.
20

However, unless Kapustin notates or specifies swing, his music, although intensely
syncopated, often takes on a relentlessly motoric drive, closer in aesthetic to etudes,
toccatas, and other technical works of the Romantic and early modern eras. Kapustins
Prelude No. 1 in C Major, Op. 53 (example 4a) has a great deal of syncopation, like jazz,
but is executed so rapidly and so consistently that there is no room to swing, making it

19
Kapustin, Twenty-Four Preludes in J azz Style, Op. 53, manuscript.
20
Ibid.
8
akin to classical works such as Frederic Chopins Prelude No. 16 in B-Flat Minor, Op. 28
(example 4b), rather than blazing solos of Art Tatum or Bud Powell.

Ex. 4a: Kapustin, Prelude No. 1 in C Major, Op. 53, mm. 14-18.
21

Ex. 4b: Chopin, Prelude No. 16 in B-Flat Minor, Op. 28, mm. 7-10.
22

21
Ibid.
22
Frdric Chopin, Complete Preludes and Etudes (New York: Dover, 1980), 26.
9

Regarding the sixth category, harmony, some of Kapustins works, like the
Prelude No. 9 in E Major, Op. 53, create a mosaic of standard jazz harmonic progressions
such as the iiVI, while other works focus on larger, classical tonal schemes, as in the
Sonatina, Op. 100, which states principal material in the tonic, secondary material in the
dominant, develops this material, recapitulates (tongue-in-cheek to the subdominant), and
states the return of the secondary theme and closing material in the tonic. Some works
synthesize elements of both classical and jazz harmonic procedures by composing a
latticework of shorter jazz harmonic constructs ensconced in larger tonal classical
trajectories. Although the harmonies are unmistakably jazz, Kapustins music
nevertheless espouses classical convention since harmonies are integrated into a larger
formal presentation rather than simply acting as an elementary base from which the
improviser takes flight.
In a BBC Music Magazine review, Graham Lock states that Kapustin rejects
much of the classical music of the twentieth century; he also ignores much of the jazz of
the last fifty years.
23
The first portion of this statement is true. Kapustin does not forge
beyond the works of Prokofiev or Scriabin.
24
However, Kapustins works embrace the
advances jazz has made as recently as the last twenty-five years. In fact, his music is a

23
Graham Lock, CD Reviews, BBC Music Magazine 69, no. 1 (J uly 2000): 34.
24
Nikolai Kapustin, e-mail message to author, December 28, 2006. Kapustin claims that free jazz pioneers
Ornette Coleman and Cecil Taylor were not influential, nor did he listen to them with pleasure.
10
vivid jazz history lesson, embracing late nineteenth-century ragtime and New Orleanean
derivatives, stride, blues, swing, bebop, hard bop, modal jazz, funk, and fusion.
Stride plays a significant role in Kapustins textures. Thomas Fats Waller
(1904-1943) was a proponent of this style as seen in example 5a and imitated in
Kapustins Etude No. 7, Op. 40 (example 5b).

Ex. 5a: Thomas Fats Waller, Valentine Stomp, mm. 21-24.
25

25
Thomas Fats Waller, Thomas Fats Waller: The Great Solos, 1929-1941 (Milwaukee: Hal Leonard,
1998), 103.
11

Ex. 5b: Kapustin, Etude No. 7, Op. 40, mm. 83-84.
26

Kapustin recalls his first memory of jazz: At first my friends and I could hear
jazz on the radio . . . at that time what we liked most was boogie-woogie.
27
Boogie-
woogie is a style of blues popular in the 1930s and 40s. Its key component is a driving
left-hand ostinato, heard in Wallers jumping octaves (example 6a).

26
Kapustin, Eight Jazz Etudes, Op. 40 (Moscow: Soviet Composer, 1987), 59-60.
27
Kapustin, e-mail message to author.
12

Ex. 6a: Waller, Alligator Crawl, mm. 73-74.
28

Kapustins Etude No. 5, Op. 40 uses the same Boogie bass texture (example 6b).

Ex. 6b: Kapustin, Etude No. 5, Op. 40, mm. 61-62.
29

The most influential jazz figure on Kapustin is Art Tatum (1909-1956). Kapustin
has gone on record saying that Oscar Peterson (b. 1925) is number one for him.
30

However, Peterson is essentially a byproduct of Tatums genius. Peterson himself states:
If you speak of pianists, the most complete pianist that we have known and
possibly will know, from what Ive heard to date, is Art Tatum. Im not classing
myself in that calibre of talent, but Art Tatum was accused of the same thing that
Im being accused of todaythat he played so much in so few bars. Yet in the

28
Waller, 28.
29
Kapustin, Eight Jazz Etudes, 42.
30
Smith, 55.
13
same reviews or opinions where they say Oh, he plays too mucheverything is a
run, they turn around and say But hes a genius. So theres no way of satisfying
them.
31

It is logical that Peterson, via Tatum, has such an appeal to Kapustin. Both of
Kapustins progenitors promote many of the qualities classical music promotes: a
Herculean but versatile technique, propensity towards dazzling, virtuoso passagework,
and a contrapuntally involved left hand. In the following excerpt from Tatums
improvisation on J erome Kerns All the Things You Are, we hear those attributes,
emulated in Kapustins Variations, Op. 41 (examples 7b and 7c).

Ex. 7a: Art Tatum, improvisation on J erome Kerns All the Things You Are, mm. 128-135.
32

31
Les Tomkins, Oscar Peterson: Points, J azz Professional,
http://www.jazzprofessional.com/interviews/Oscar%20Peterson_Points.htm (accessed February 4, 2007).
32
Art Tatum, Art Tatum Solo Book (Milwaukee: Hal Leonard 1998), 20.
14

Ex. 7b: Kapustin, Variations, Op. 41, mm. 80-84.
33

33
Kapustin, Variations, Op. 41 (Moscow: Muzyka, 1985), 14.
15

Ex. 7c: Kapustin, Variations, mm. 93-98.
34

In Big Band Sounds, Op. 46, Kapustin utilizes a jazz style of voicing known as
four-way close, in which the four notes of each chord are harmonized as close together

34
Ibid., 15.
16
as possible. In piano writing, the right hand takes the four-note chord while the left hand
typically doubles the melody. Arrangers use this style when writing for a group of four
saxophones, trumpets, trombones, and so forth.

Ex. 8a: Oscar Peterson, improvisation on Ray Browns Gravy Waltz, mm. 136-137.
35

Ex. 8b: Kapustin, Big Band Sounds, Op. 46, mm. 21-22.
36

Blues vocabulary permeates Kapustins oeuvre. Rarely does a single work go by
without exploring characteristic blues licks.
37
Blues performers often decorate a
melody with a drone note, perhaps a fifth or sixth above, such as the Es in measures one
of both the following Oscar Peterson and Kapustin examples (examples 9a and 9b):

35
Oscar Peterson, The Very Best of Oscar Peterson (Milwaukee: Hal Leonard, 2005), 41.
36
Kapustin, Big Band Sounds, Op. 46 (Moscow: Muzyka, 1987), 37.
37
Licks is jazz vernacular for motive.
17

Ex. 9a: Peterson, Gravy Waltz, mm. 69-71.
38

Ex. 9b: Kapustin, Toccatina, Op. 36, mm. 21-23.
39

In sum, no matter how vivid the incorporation of jazz may be, whether it be blues
and rock licks, symphonic stride, or propelling Bebop syncopations, the level of
workmanship and compositional technique are qualities that inescapably link Kapustins
music to the classical world. The designs of sonata-allegro form and binary Baroque
dances are preferred to the twelve-bar blues and thirty-two-bar song form.
40
His
incorporation of jazz is an inspired homage to a tradition, not a continuation of it. The
continuation is of classical constructs and formal procedures that flourished ca.1700-
1950.

38
Peterson, 36.
39
Kapustin, Toccatina, Op. 36 (Moscow: Muzyka, 1983), 21.
40
One notable exception is the Etude No. 5, Op. 40, which is based upon the twelve-bar blues progression.
18
As of 2007, Kapustin has completed 130 opus numbers scored for everything
from solo instruments, chamber sonatas and ensembles, to big band and symphony
orchestra. Virtually all are composed in the codified Baroque, Classical, and Romantic
genres such as Bagatelles, Concertos, Etudes, Fantasias, Fugues, Impromptus, Inventions,
Nocturnes, Preludes, Sonatas, Suites, Toccatas, and Variations. The Twenty-Four
Preludes and Fugues, Op. 82 (1997), show a wealth of motivic invention and a mastery of
craft that invites comparison to Bach and Shostakovichs. The fourteen piano sonatas
(1984-2004) incorporate elements of Classical sonata-allegro form, replete with double-
themed expositions and motivically dense developments, while others take on qualities of
Scriabins later, one-movement sonatas. The Twenty-Four Preludes In J azz Style, Op. 53
(1988) follow the examples of Chopin and Scriabin by creating shorter works in a single
mood, exploring the inherent attributes of all major and minor keys. The Suite In The
Olden Style, Op. 28 (1977) makes use of subtle ornamentation and employs the stock
binary Baroque dance forms Allemande, Bourre, Gavotte, Gigue, and Sarabande. The
Eight J azz Etudes, Op. 40 continue the tradition of the Romantic concert etude set forth
by Chopin and Liszt.
Like earlier forays into synthesizing classical and popular music, Kapustins
music has been met with some skepticism. Crossing over (a term referring to an artist
from one genre, such as jazz, performing or composing in another genre, such as
classical) carries with it a history of negative reaction, which maintains that combining
characteristics of two musical genres dilutes and compromises the originals.
41
In the

41
Robynn J . Stilwell, Crossover, The New Grove Dictionary of Music Online,
http://www.grovemusic.com (accessed J anuary 2, 2007). Stilwell writes that crossing over is an artificial
concept, dependent on the sometimes arbitrary and/or non-musical definitions of the charts, which measure
19
J anuary/February 1999 issue of American Record Guide, a recording by crossover
vocalist Helmut Lotti was given the following review:
How low can a classical music label sink? . . . Helmut Lotti is an utterly second-
rate crooneran imitator of the American style of crooning. He cant actually sing.
He is so disgusting you will have to struggle not to lose your dinner. This is titled
Helmut Lotti Goes Classic, but nothing at all is classical music. Oh, yes, he
sings the Brahms Lullaby, but its his wordsand they are so sickeningly
sentimental that you will probably coat the disc with honey and send it back to
RCA. He even sings his own version (solowho needs the chorus?) of the
Soldiers Chorus from Faustalso disgusting. His Amazing Grace is enough to
make you give up Christianity.
42

In the August 16, 1992 edition of The New York Times, pianist-composer Keith
J arrett unleashed a scathing polemic against, among other things, classically trained opera
singers trying to sing black spirituals.
43
This stance, however, does not stop J arrett,
primarily known for his jazz playing, from playing the works of Bach, Mozart, or
Shostakovich. Of J arretts Mozart piano concerti, a reviewer wrote:
Keith J arrett evidently has carte blanche to do anything he wants at Manfred
Eichers ECM labeland thus encouraged, he takes ample risks in a field that is
swamped with able and formidable competitors . . . J arrett cannot do very much
with this music beyond playing the notes accurately and cleanly . . . much of it is
precious and monochromatic.
44

A reviewer of Kapustins recording, despite praising the music, cannot help but cynically
begin with Attempts to write music that effects a genuine fusion between jazz and
classical idioms almost invariably sound contrived and unconvincing.
45

the popularity of recordings, ranking them by style. The pop chart is the overall singles chart: normally a
hit crosses over from a speciality chart jazz, classical, dance/disco, country, rhythm and blues to pop.
42
Donald Vroon, Helmut Lotti Goes Classic, American Record Guide 62, no. 1 (J anuary/February 1999):
244.
43
Keith J arrett, Categories Aplenty, But Wheres The Music? The New York Times, August 16, 1992,
quoted in Robert L. Doerschuk, 88: The Giants of Jazz Piano (San Francisco: Backbeat Books, 2001), 263.
44
Richard Ginell, Keith J arrett: Mozart Piano Concertos No.21, 23, 27, All Music Guide,
http://www.starpulse.com/Music/J arrett,_Keith/Discography/album/P6804/R513365/ (accessed October 10,
2006).
45
Levi, 29.
20
Furthermore, crossing over carries with it a motivation to make money, as more
than one musical market can be tapped at one time. When reviewing pop singer Michael
Boltons album of opera arias, Terry Teachout wrote:
Would that Bolton sang as well as he sells, for My Secret Passion is a grotesque
example of what can happen when a famous amateur suffering from delusions of
adequacy falls into the hands of cynical record executives looking to boost the
bottom line by any means necessary. The results sound just likewell, like
Michael Bolton singing Italian opera arias in the shower. . . . No doubt starry-
eared optimists will claim that My Secret Passion is reaching people who might
otherwise never hear opera, but trying to save the ailing classical-record business
by pushing this kind of trifle is like trying to revive a failing economy by printing
counterfeit money.
46

Graham Lock of BBC Music Magazine reviewed Steven Osbornes recording of
Kapustins first two piano sonatas stating that the music, despite being a well-crafted
synthesis,
remains a pastiche that imitates and blends without ever transcending its sources.
. . . The result is a music that, for all its surface vivacity, sounds contrived and
rather quaint.
47

This criticism warrants the question, can Kapustin emulate not only the classical masters
but the likes of Art Tatum, Charlie Parker, and J ohn Coltrane, and transcend them as
well? It is a fallacious argument, against which there exists no logical defense. Symbiotic
artwork need not transcend its derivatives simply to validate its existence.
Third Stream (a term coined by Schuller to describe a category of music in which
elements of classical and jazz music are synthesized) faced similar criticism forty years
ago, prompting Schuller to clear up any misinformation and prejudice surrounding the
new music. Schuller lamented that critics refused to judge the music autonomistically, as
its own creative work of art, rather than moralistically, as an unwarranted, lascivious

46
Terry Teachout, With An Aria in His Heart, Time,
http://205.188.238.181/time/magazine/article/0,9171,988131,00.html (accessed December 4, 2006).
47
Lock, 25.
21
frontal attack on their own traditions.
48
Fortunately, Kapustins music has not been met
with nearly as much vitriol, not only because the concept of a jazz-classical synthesis is
not novel, but because Kapustin does not create a music that, like Schullers, is halfway
between jazz and classical music.
49
It sounds like jazz, but does not evoke jazz
performance practice, and, therefore, does not threaten the tradition that sets jazz apart
from classical, namely improvisation. In fact, for that very reason, Kapustins music
avoided intense scrutiny and censorship from the anti-jazz Stalinist and post-Stalinist
regimes because, despite the sound, the music is clearly constructed in the traditions of
the masters that the government endorsed.
The following chapters will explore Nikolai Kapustins solo piano music,
establishing Kapustins musical background, the history of jazz in his native Soviet
Union, and analyses of Sonatina, Op. 100, Prelude No. 9 in E Major, Op. 53 and Fugue
No. 1 in C Major, Op. 82.

48
Gunther Schuller, Musings: The Musical Worlds of Gunther Schuller (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1986), 115.
49
Ibid., 114.
22

Chapter Two

Nikolai Kapustins Musical Development and
Place in the History of Jazz in the Soviet Union

Maybe the government looked at jazz with some suspicion, but it seems to me
that an attitude to jazz of some professors of conservatories is much worse.
50

Although an email interview does not lend itself well to interpreting sarcasm, I
had no doubt that Kapustins comment was meant satirically, considering the fact that
during his formative years one could be sent to Siberian camps for promoting jazz, or
worse, killed. On the other hand, Kapustins comment points to a two-pronged attack on
his love for jazz, not only from the Communist Party, but from his native classical world.
If jazz were not assailed by legitimate musicians elitism, it was dismissed by their
complete ignorance. Kapustin admitted that his professor at the Moscow Conservatory,
Alexander Goldenweiser, was not aware that by day young Nikolai was playing
Beethoven but by night was riffing to Duke Ellington. In fact, Kapustin adds, I am not
sure he knew what jazz was.
51

Nikolai Kapustin was born in 1937, in Gorlovka, Ukraine. At that time, Ukraine
was a member of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, the arch political rival of the
birthplace of jazz, the United States. Only fifteen years before Kapustins birth, the first
jazz concert in the USSR took place. It was to begin an endless tug of war between

50
51
Ibid.
23
exasperated parent and enfant terrible, a relationship that would witness the apparatchik
attack jazz in two ways: total annihilation, or, when that failed, cooptation. In the end,
both strategies proved unsuccessful and stuck in the craw of a government whose legacy
since the 1917 October Revolution was to dictate cultural attitudes from above. Much
to the dismay of the Soviet authorities, jazz embraced social liberation and sexual
freedom.
Russia was introduced to jazz not by an American, or even a European, but a
native. Russian dancer and Dadaist poet Valentin Parnakh (1891-1951), after being
captivated by jazz in Paris in 1921, returned home a year later, bringing with him the
necessary instruments to produce the first jazz concert in Soviet history. In order to
validate such bourgeois decadence, Parnakh went to extremes to develop a convincing
explanation of why jazz should be tolerated by the Communist regime, including
publishing an essay in which the word jazz appears for the first time in Soviet print.
52

He argued that American dance music symbolized the vigor and optimism of post-civil
war Russia. Parnakhs First Eccentric Orchestra of the Russian Federated Socialist
Republic Jazz Band gave its historic concert October 1, 1922 in Moscow.
53
The music
consisted of popular American tunes with no improvisation.
54

After this landmark event, jazz gradually spread from the elite theaters to the
Soviet urban public. The new music was so well received that Stalinist hardliners used its
popularity to decry the excess they associated with Vladimir Lenins New Economic

52
Frederick Starr, Red and Hot: The Fate of Jazz in the Soviet Union, 1917-1980 (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1983), 44.
53
Starr, 46.
54
It would be another decade before improvisation would enter Soviet jazz performance practice.
24
Policy.
55
Under the NEP, private enterprise funding allowed entrepreneurs to open dance
studios out of their own homes. Autonomous jazz combos formed and were able to
compete in a commercial market. The press was beside itself, condemning this new
barbaric music and lamenting over the sexually suggestive dances including the
Charleston, Boston, and Fox trot.
In 1928, Stalins Cultural Revolution put an immediate halt to the steady rise of
jazz. It would be nearly another thirty years before a Soviet listener would hear a live,
American jazz band. The Association of Proletarian Musicians was created in order to
create an alternative popular music that was staunchly Communist in ideology. By 1930,
however, the APM had produced nothing of significance, and what they did present was
unpopular. The APM was dismantled in 1932, allowing jazz to once again serve as
popular entertainment. The relatively friendly years 1932-1936 became known as the
Soviet J azz Age.
J azz would have had a much more difficult time in Soviet history if it were not for
the fact that some of most rabid jazz fans were high-ranking Soviet officials. American
recordings, crucial to the development of jazz in the 1930s, were secretly traded by
Soviet bureaucrats after their travels abroad. An unlikely source of patronage came from
jazz aficionado Lazar Kaganovich, First Secretary of the Moscow Party Committee and
close associate of Stalin. Although Kaganovichs idea of jazz was the tepid arrangements
of Paul Whiteman, it was nevertheless beneficial for jazz to be positively acknowledged
from such an important authority.

55
Lenins New Economic Policy restored private ownership to certain parts of the economy, such as
farming. Peasants could hire help as well as keep a portion of their surplus after taxes. Even though the
NEP helped the Russian economy recover after World War I, the Bolshevik Revolution, and the Russian
Civil War, Josef Stalin, who assumed power after Lenins death in 1924, abolished the economic policy in
1929 for its capitalist leanings.
25
After 1936, however, jazz in the USSR was besieged and nearly exterminated.
The death of author Maxim Gorky, one of the founding fathers of socialist realism,
empowered a severe cultural crackdown. That same year Pravda, the Communist Partys
newspaper, accused Dmitri Shostakovich of borrowing from jazz bands their nervous,
convulsive, epileptic music in order to impart passion to his heroine in his 1934 opera
Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District.
56
J azz bands were broken up and band leaders
were ordered to rid their set lists of jazz in favor of honorable Soviet songs. In 1937, the
year of Kapustins birth, Stalins purges were responsible for more than a million deaths,
and many more were to die in camps. The luckiest jazz musicians were exiled to the
remote provinces.
In a desire to create a uniquely Soviet popular culture, as well as an artistic
alternative to jazz, state musicians were hired to compose mass songs.
57
These hymns
to socialism drew from folk material, marches and, ironically, jazz. The mass songs
proved immensely unpopular, and the only songs that gained some momentum were
those with jazz elements. J ust when it seemed that jazz was on the verge of extinction, the
Soviet government established the State J azz Orchestra of the USSR. If this music were
to exist, it would at least meet the artistic criteria of what the Communist Party thought of
as proletarian jazz. The repertoire consisted of syncopated Rimsky-Korsakov or
Tchaikovsky, as well as diluted Duke Ellington. Despite the musics whitewashed sound,
the governments nationalization of jazz at least kept the music alive.
Soviet life changed dramatically when Hitler invaded Soviet territory in 1941.
With World War II upon them, the Soviet government quickly mobilized army units,

56
Sumber vmeste muzyki, Pravda, J anuary 28, 1936, quoted in Starr, 162.
57
Shostakovich was one of these composers.
26
many of which included jazz musicians and their ensembles. There were a vast number of
state-sanctioned military jazz orchestras. That year, at age three, Kapustin and his family
were evacuated from Ukraine to Kyrgyzstan, several thousand miles east. His father
served in the reserve units.
58

By now, jazz had been heard in the Soviet empire for nearly twenty years and had
entered the collective consciousness of the public, especially the younger generation,
many of whom were soldiers. In order to boost morale, jazz was permitted to entertain
and invigorate the troops. The alliance between American and Soviet forces was an
enormous boost to the health and future of jazz in the USSR. Orchestrations were traded
between American and Russian soldiers, allowing Soviet jazzmen to adopt the latest big
band scoring techniques.
Unfortunately for jazz, by the end of 1946, as the wartime alliance with the
United States degenerated into the Cold War, the Soviet government went about
removing all traces of American influence. Soviet officials were alarmed as jazz clubs
sprang up all over Europe. The government changed the State J azz Orchestras name to
the State Variety Orchestra, since use of the word jazz was strictly forbidden. Even
specific musical elements were banned. Blue notes, chords based on lowered fifths, and
brass vibrato were prohibited. Bass players ceased to play pizzicato and percussionists
were told to keep their rhythms from getting too vigorous. In 1949-50 many saxophonists
were fired from their jazz bands and ordered to surrender their instruments to government
officials.
59
The regime dictated that dancers bring back the polka and the waltz. Soviet
culture was barraged by socialist realism.

58
59
Sergei Prokofievs Lieutenant Kije Suite, which calls for saxophone, was removed from the repertoire.
27
In 1949, at age 12, Kapustin began piano lessons. He recalls, My very first
teacher was a violinist who tried to teach me piano. He then studied for three years with
a real teacher, L. Frantsuzova. She was a pupil of a Russian composer Maikapar in the
St. Petersburg Conservatory (seemingly before 1917), and her diploma was signed by
Alexander Glazunov.
60
Samuil Maikapar (1867-1938) taught at the St. Petersburg
Conservatory from 1910 to 1930 and is best known for his pedagogical publications.
Concerning the early 1950s, Kapustin recalls that jazz was forbidden:
in the early 50s it was completely prohibited, and there were articles in our
magazines that said it was typical capitalistic culture, so we have to throw it away
and forget about it. Rachmaninov was prohibited; even writers were prohibited,
like Dostoyevsky, Yesenin, Akhmatovaall prohibited. Even Shostakovichhe
was not [prohibited] but there were articles saying that it was terrible music. So
not only jazz: it was typical for every kind of culture.
61

In 1950, with no formal compositional training, Kapustin wrote his first piano sonata. Not
having heard jazz, the sonata was in an academic style, and he did not consider the
work serious.
62
After three years with Frantsuzova, Kapustin moved to Moscow in
1952 and began to study with Avrelian Rubakh, a pupil of pianist-composer Felix
Blumenfeld (1863-1931), who also taught Vladimir Horowitz and Simon Barere.
1953 was a defining year in Kapustins life: J osef Stalin died and he heard jazz
for the first time. At first my friends and I could hear jazz only on the radio. I do not
remember which jazz artist I heard first. It could be Glenn Miller or Louis Armstrong.
63

Kapustins revelation set into motion his career path as a symbiotic composer: I thought
I was going to be a virtuoso classical player, but at 20, 21, 22 I understood that jazz was
very important. And I didnt like performing; composition was more interesting. He

60
61
Anderson, 96.
62
63
Ibid.
28
continues, I understood that I had to combine the two musicsI had that idea from my
youth.
64

During the post-Stalin thaw, jazz in the Soviet Union was allowed to rejuvenate.
As they did in the 1920s, Soviet musicians sought out foreign influences and
meticulously studied their every sound. And they had plenty of catching up to do; Stalins
rule had isolated Soviet jazzmen from the phenomenon that took America by storm in the
1940s, bebop.
In 1954, Kapustin celebrated his sixteenth birthday at Rubakhs house: for the
whole evening I played jazz, still rather clumsily. Rubakh regarded jazz with interest,
and helped foster Kapustins fascination with the new music.
65
Kapustin ignited his jazz
education by transcribing solos from the radio: It was difficult to get hold of recordings
in the early 1950s, but some Soviet people still had an opportunity to travel abroad and
brought back recordings. But we mainly tape-recorded Music USA on the radio. At the
same time I began transcribing jazz improvisations by leading jazz pianists that I heard
on the radio.
66
The Soviet authorities were naturally troubled by the immense popularity
of Music USA.
Several times each evening propagandists from the Voice of America send us
examples of American music, obviously in the full conviction that such musical
additions to verbal propaganda on the idea of Americanism will attract a large
number of listeners.
67

By 1956, Kapustin was ready to further his musical education:
For four years I studied so hard that I feel I was at the same level [as Rubakh], so
these four years were critical for me. It was he who took me to [Alexander]

64
Anderson, 94.
65
66
Ibid.
67
G. Shneerson, Vrednyi surrogate iskusstva, Sovietskaia Musyka, no.7 (1948): 87, quoted in Starr, 210.
29
Goldenweiser. I played him the Liszt Don Giovanni Fantasy; he liked how I
played and asked Rubakh, 'Where did you find such a pianist?'
68

Kapustin began his studies at the Moscow Conservatory under Alexander
Goldenweiser (1875-1961), a pupil of Paul Pabst and Alexander Siloti (student of Franz
Liszt and cousin of Sergei Rachmaninov). Together with Heinrich Neuhaus (nephew to
Blumenfeld and teacher of Sviatoslav Richter, Emil Gilels, and Radu Lupu),
Goldenweiser was considered one of the most prestigious piano pedagogues in the USSR.
I went to him when I was 18. He was a very interesting personhe remembered
Rachmaninov and Medtner, so it was very interesting to speak with him. But as a teacher
he gave nothing, because he was very oldhe was already 81.
69
This makes Kapustins
artistry all the more impressive: aside from having no formal compositional training, his
piano professor amounted to no more than artistic mentor.
During the late 1950s journalists in the West noticed the rise of a disillusioned
youth culture known as stiliagi, or style hunters. They were Russian youths who
dressed in zoot-suits, fraternized with foreigners, despised work, and loved jazz. The
government would occasionally take them into custody, shave their heads, and
temporarily relocate them to the countryside. Uneasy Stalinists linked the stiliagi with the
loosening of control following Nikita Khruschevs Secret Speech at the Twentieth
Party Congress in 1956, in which the new Soviet leader denounced Stalins Great Terror
and xenophobic tendencies towards the West. Kapustin did his best to fit in, but
ultimately was not stiliaga material:
[The stiliagi] mostly influenced my style of clothing. Once I had the nerve to
publicly perform [Mussorgskys] Pictures at an Exhibition dressed in a
stialiagi outfit and boasting an Elvis Presley style hairdo. The performance took

68
Anderson, 94.
69
Anderson, 94.
30
place in the Hall of the Soviet Deputies and was part of a concert celebrating the
anniversary of the October Socialist Revolution. The next day I was reprimanded
by the director of the Music College. But I was too serious to be a real stiliaga.
70

In 1957, the VI World Youth Festival took place in Moscow, attracting over
30,000 young adults from around the world to perform and compete. This event made
jazz a national issue, the result of a government that wanted to break free from Stalins
xenophobic legacy. The Russian government turned to bandleader J uri Saulsky to bring
together Moscows best jazz musicians, including Kapustin. Soviet songs were the core
of their repertoire, but the band could persuasively swing to the latest Stan Kenton and
Duke Ellington. It was at this festival that Kapustins Concertino for Piano and
Orchestra, Op.1 was publicly performed for the first time, with the composer as soloist.
Kapustin recalls the festival and its aftermath:
I was 19 years old at the time. Saulsky did not teach me anything; he taught the
orchestra to play together and in the right style. Five musicians from the big band,
including myself, decided to create a jazz quintet (tenor sax, trombone, bass,
drums, and piano). I was the only professional musician among this group, so
naturally I was chosen the leader. The quintet performed for a couple of months at
the restaurant National, but I played with them only during the first month, since
it was hard to combine work and study. Once somebody from the American
Embassy recorded us, and this recording was played on Voice of America. It
was nice to hear our names announced by W[illis] Conover himself.
71

Despite Saulskys band taking first prize, they were still accused of
misrepresenting Soviet culture and promoting the stiliagis shameful morals. More
importantly, a lasting effect took place: at the festival, Russian musicians were exposed
to American and European big bands playing the latest hits in the latest styles. Frederick
Starr states, In public performances and in jam sessions held at the central house of

70
71
Kapustin, e-mail message to author. Willis Conover was the announcer of Music USA and Voice of
America.
31
Workers in the Arts, those bands destroyed the last vestiges of parochialism among
young Soviet jazzers.
72
Improvisation was a main characteristic of post-Stalin Soviet
jazz.
Kapustins continuing involvement in jazz made it more difficult to balance his
classical conservatory regiment.
In the very end of 1950s a jazz festival took place in Tallinn and jazz clubs (cafes)
started to open in Moscow, but I did not have time to go there, as I was preparing
a monstrously complicated program for my diploma at the Conservatory.
73

Tallinn, the capital of then Soviet-controlled Estonia, was always ahead of Russia
in jazz development. Like other peripheral territories, Estonia was not subjected to as
much focused cultural repression and the difference in languages offered Estonians a
protective umbrella under which to foster new ideas.
It was during the late 1950s that Kapustins symbiotic style of composition was
taking root. When asked at what point this style matured, Kapustin stated,
It is very difficult to give a definite answer to your question. Perhaps piano
concerto no. 2, Op. 14? I tend to think that it is the piano sonata written in 1958,
which does not have an opus number. But it is not mature in any way, except
that the style is close to the one I write in now.
74

Kapustin points to the reason for his combining classical and jazz elements in his
composition,
Because I had never heard it. And once I had started I understood that it was real.
When I took it to my friends they were very excited, and so I understood that I
was on the right way. I never tried to be a real jazz pianist, but I had to do it
because of the composing.
75

72
Starr, 250.
73
74
Ibid.
75
Anderson, 94.
32
In 1961, at age 23, Kapustin graduated with a diploma in piano performance from
the Moscow Conservatory. Unlike many of his classmates, Kapustin did not venture out
in search of a classical concert pianists life. For the next decade, he toured with Oleg
Lundstrms Big Band, currently the oldest surviving jazz orchestra in Russia. He also
composed for the ensemble, which explains why his compositions during the 1960s were
dominated by orchestral/big band genre.
76

Pure orchestral compositions are rare guests in my list of works, but there are
many concertos for different instruments and orchestra. As to the orchestration
techniques these are either classical or jazz-big-band technique. I studied this in
practice . . . when I worked as a pianist at different orchestras. I had a possibility
to write for them and then to hear the result. And last but not least: during my
already long life I have written an overwhelming amount of arrangements and it
was [a] useful thing.
77

Lundstrm focused on American arrangements as well as original works
orchestrated in the styles of Glenn Miller, Count Basie, and Duke Ellington. It was during
his years with the Lundstrm band that Kapustin solidified his jazz education.
In the 1960s Kapustin met mentor and pianist Alexander Tsfasman, the leading
jazzman of the Stalinist era and in 1928 the first Russian to make jazz recordings. We
(pianists) liked Tsfasman for his elegance and easy-going style and his perfect finger
technique, Kapustin explains, In the early 1970s a concert in his memory was
organized by the Union of Composers, and I performed his piano concerto with the Radio
Orchestra.
78
After studying for six years under Blumenfeld at the Moscow
Conservatory, Tsfasman, like Kapustin, fell under the spell of jazz. He vigorously
maintained that, in order to progress, the Soviet Union must borrow whatever it deemed

76
For a works list, see Appendix, p. 121.
77
78
Ibid.
33
necessary from other cultures, including music. His wholesale embrace of pure,
American jazz always kept him standing on the precipice of Soviet oppression.
Tsfasman was the first professional Soviet jazzman, the first popular soloist in
Soviet jazz, and the first Soviet to garner praise from an American jazz musician. He was
the first to offer jam sessions at the end of concerts, allowing musicians to hone their
craft without as much glare from the watchful Communist eye. Against Stalins iron fist
Tsfasman had the nerve to change his name to Bob, marry an American, and hire an
African-American dancer in his shows. His stylish clothes and cool demeanor refuted the
notion that jazz was coarse and unsophisticated.
Tsfasman was fluent in the styles of stride masters J ames P. J ohnson and Waller,
and after World War II adopted the sparser textures of Bud Powell and bravura runs of
Art Tatum. In 1937, as Stalins purges gripped the USSR, many musicians were snatched
from Tsfasmans orchestra and sent to play in the State J azz Orchestra. Later, as the Cold
War began, he was stripped of his orchestra entirely.
In 1963 Nikita Khruschev, who had once presided over a relatively moderate
tolerance of jazz, launched an all-out offensive, declaring I dont like jazz, I used to
think it was static when I heard it on the radio
79
Finally, after confronted by modern art
and contemporary jazz, he threw down the gauntlet: J udging by these experiments, I am
entitled to think that you are pederasts, and for that you can get ten years. . . . Gentlemen,
we are declaring war on you.
80
Khruschev was under severe pressure, as Mao Zedongs
government began attacking the Soviet Union for their soft position on the West,
especially the United States, from which Khruschev backed down during the Cuban

79
Priscilla J ohnson and Leopold Labedz, eds., Khruschev and the Arts (Cambridge: MIT, 1965), quoted in
Starr, 274.
80
Ibid.
34
missile crisis. Khruschev maintained that the West was using hidden sympathizers to
thwart socialism in the arts. Bourgeois depravity was associated with all modern and
avant-garde music, art, and architecture. J azz clubs were shut down and major touring
bands reverted to all-Soviet repertoires. J azz was once again saved, however, as
Kruschev was suddenly ousted in 1964 and the honeymoon period of Leonid Brezhnevs
rule began.
The pendulum had swung yet again in jazzs favor, and it flourished during the
mid-1960s, reaching its highest level of development and success. Beginning in 1965,
Russians were allowed to participate in festivals in Warsaw and Prague. Recordings of
the Moscow J azz Festival were made available and were eagerly traded in other cities and
provinces. In 1966, Melodiya, the Soviet recording firm, made recordings of
performances by current jazz bands and solo artists available for the first time. This surge
in jazz pride and productivity saw its apotheosis in Tallinn during May of 1967. A
festival of this size and quality had never been seen in the USSR. Ukranian saxophonist
Boris Ludmer commented, The Tallinn festival liberated us from serfdom, adding, We
played one hundred percent differently after Tallinn.
81
Many stars of the Soviet jazz
scene were there, including Kapustin, who took part in this festival as part of
Lundstrms big band.
While Brezhnev was not offended by jazz, stubborn Stalinists wanted to seek
revenge. The jamming of radio signals, which had stopped in 1963, started again in 1968.
The same year, the Red Army invaded rebellious Czechoslovakia to restore order. The
jazz establishment was once again on the defensive, and this time proved to be the straw
that broke many a camels back.

81
Boris Ludmer, interview by Frederick Starr, 1979, quoted in Starr, 286.
35
Throughout the 1970s, musicians believed that jazz, and the arts in general, would
never completely escape the half-century pattern of Soviet censorship. For many the
answer was to emigrate to the United States, particularly New York City. Kapustin had
different plans. His career would not continue to hinge upon making it as an independent
jazzman, so, after finishing his decade-long tour with the Lundstrm band in 1972, he
moved outside of Moscow and focused solely on composition: Yes, I can improvise, but
I no longer like it.
82

Kapustin, unlike many of his colleagues in the jazz world, enjoyed the benefits
that came with being a legitimate musician. When jazz found itself prohibited, he could
always find work in the classical fields performing, teaching, or composing. And because
he never sought to live the jazz lifestyle, complete acceptance into the jazz culture was
not a concern of his; he was in it purely for the training, to strengthen his compositional
skills. Kapustin enjoyed a personal freedom that few Soviets experienced, because his
compositions demonstrated classical formalities and therefore never came under
suspicion from the government: I was entirely free; no problems. My music wasnt
avant-garde.
83
Kapustins unique position as classical master and improvising jazzman
allowed him to fully participate in the history of jazz in the Soviet Union, but not
succumb to its fickle ebbs and flows.

82
83
Anderson, 96.
36

Chapter 3
Reconciling Classical Form and Jazz Harmony in the Sonatina, Op. 100

Analyzing Kapustins music is not unlike Albert Einsteins Unified Field Theory
conundrum. In physics, gravity is the force that explains the relationship between large
bodies in the universe, while electromagnetism explains the relationship between
individual particles such as atoms. Einstein was never able to reconcile the two forces,
and they have yet to be harmonized into a Grand Unification Theory.
84
In Kapustins
Sonatina, sonata-allegro form is the universal gravitational force, binding and shaping
large sections, but the blues holds together individual chords. Theoretically, there is no
unified way in which to analyze the work, so a synthesis of classical and jazz approaches
must be applied.
While the larger tonal trajectory of the Sonatina follows the tonic-dominant
polarity of Classical sonata-allegro form, harmony functions in the context of the blues,
which throws into relief the Classical relationship between the diatonic chords of the
scale. In a Classical sonatina, such as those by Muzio Clementi (1752-1832) and
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791), the tonic and subdominant, for example,
function as triads while seventh chords are relegated to primary and secondary dominant
functions. While blues syntax may be understood universally in terms of Classical tonic-

84
Mendel Sachs, Quantum Mechanics From General Relativity: An Approximation For a Theory of Inertia,
(Boston: Dordrecht, 1986).
37
dominant polarity, the tonic and subdominant, in addition to the dominant, function as
dominant seventh chords and do not necessarily act as traditional secondary dominants.
Example 10a shows a standard twelve-bar blues progression, from which
countless other jazz musicians have drawn compositional and improvisational
inspiration.
85

Ex. 10a:

A Classical composer would realize the Roman numerals as triads, except the V chord, or
dominant, which would indicate a seventh chord (example 10b).

Ex. 10b:

A blues performer, however, would realize the Roman numerals as dominant seventh
chords, except for the ii chord, which would be a minor seventh chord (example 10c).

85
For a detailed discussion on the blues, see Dan Greenblatt, The Blues Scales: Essential Tools for Jazz
Improvisation (Petaluma, CA: Sher Music Co., 2005).
38

Ex. 10c:

This blues realization makes little sense in Classical terms (example 10d).

Ex. 10d:

A majority of the secondary dominants do not resolve to the intended chord. V
7
/V should
theoretically resolve to V, just as V
7
/IV should resolve to IV, as in measures two and
three of the following Mozart piano sonata (example 10e).

Ex. 10e: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Sonata in F Major, K. 332, I, mm. 1-5.
86

86
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Klaviersonaten, Band II, (Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1977), 178.
39
When the blues in C begins on a C
7
chord, it acts as the tonic, and does not necessarily
imply resolution to one specific chord. Likewise, the opening measures of Kapustins
Sonatina adhere to this same blues principle (example 11). In the following example,
implied harmonic tones are in parentheses.

Ex. 11: Kapustin, Sonatina, Op. 100, mm. 1-8.
87

The blues is an extremely flexible form. The eight-bar progression is a common
variation of the twelve-bar form, still adhering to the overall tonic-subdominant-dominant
structure. The opening eight measures of Kapustins Sonatina follow an eight-bar blues

87
Kapustin, Sonatina, Op. 100, (Moscow: A-Ram, 2004), 1.
40
formula, here set against the twelve-bar formula from Mercer Ellingtons blues tune
Things Aint The Way They Used to Be as performed by Oscar Peterson (example 12).
88

Ex. 12:

Blues pianists, and jazz pianists in general, often rely on rootless, left-hand chord
voicings as harmonic accompaniment. Measure five from Kapustins Sonatina functions
as a C
7
even though it does not contain a C (example 13a).

Ex. 13a: Kapustin, Sonatina, m. 5.

88
Oscar Peterson, Oscar Peterson Plays Duke Ellington (Milwaukee: Hal Leonard, 2005), 138.
41
This is in direct contrast to Classical music, which does not rely on referential harmony,
and generally includes roots in accompanying harmonies.
Furthermore, blues and jazz harmonies make use of extended tertian harmony not
found in Classical harmony. An extended chord is produced when thirds beyond the
seventh are added to the triad. Therefore, a left-hand chord may not only omit the root,
but add the ninth, eleventh, or thirteenth. The left-hand chord in measures six contains a
G major harmony with an added E in the left hand, implying a dominant chord, the E
being the thirteenth (example 13b).

Ex. 13b: Kapustin, Sonatina, m. 6.

Kapustins Sonatina adheres vertically to blues principles. Linearly, however,
Kapustin follows Classical contrapuntal and chord voicing procedures. In the following
excerpt, Kapustin avoided parallel octaves and fifths (example 14).

42

Ex. 14: Kapustin, Sonatina, mm. 9-18.

43

In accordance with Classical voicing, Kapustin avoids doubling the third of a
first-inversion triad (example 15).


The monophonic opening of the Sonatina is a whimsical reference to both
Classical and blues performance practice (example 16a).
44

Ex. 16a: Kapustin, Sonatina, mm. 1-3.

It was not uncommon for Classical composers to begin a piano sonata monophonically,
with both hands in unison, as in Mozarts Sonata in D Major, K. 284 (example 16b).

Ex. 16b: Mozart, Piano Sonata in D major, K. 284, I, mm. 1-4.
89

The practice continued into the early Romantic period, including Ludwig van
Beethovens Sonata in F Minor, Op. 54, Appassionata (example 16c) and Franz
Schuberts Sonata in C Major, D. 279 (example 16d).
90

89
Mozart, Klaviersonaten, Band I, (Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1977), 64.
90
Kapustin played the Appassionata on his diploma recital at the Moscow Conservatory in 1961.
45

Ex. 16c: Ludwig van Beethoven, Piano Sonata in F Minor, Op. 54 Appassionata, I, mm. 1-4.
91

Ex. 16d: Franz Schubert, Piano Sonata in C Major, D. 279, I, mm. 1-9.
92

This monophonic practice is also reminiscent of blues performance, here realized
from Oscar Petersons rendition of Mercer Ellingtons Things Aint The Way They Used
to Be (example 16e).

91
Ludwig van Beethoven, Klaviersonaten, Band II (Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1980), 131.
92
Franz Schubert, Complete Sonatas for Pianoforte Solo (New York: Dover, 1970), 16.
46

Ex. 16e: Oscar Peterson, Things Aint The Way They Used To Be (Mercer Ellington).
93

The blues employs two scales, major and minor (example 17). Compared to the
seven-note Ionian scale from which they are derived (example 17b), the blues scales have
six notes, do not necessarily flow stepwise, and emphasize the flattened third, fifth and
seventh, or the blue notes.

93
Peterson, Oscar Peterson Plays Duke Ellington, 138. Transposed from the original D-flat major.
47

Ex. 17a:

Ex. 17b:

The opening of the Sonatina focuses mainly on the minor blues scale, but alludes to the
major blues scale with the addition of the natural third degree, B-natural (example 17c).

48

Ex. 17c: Kapustin, Sonatina, mm. 1-3.

Kapustins subtle contrapuntal writing often juxtaposes the third of the major
scale and the third of the blues scales (example 18). In measure 16, still in G major, he
juxtaposes the major third of the G major scale and the minor third of the G minor blues
scales. In measure 18, Kapustin does the same in D major.


49

In addition to harmony, syncopation is the characteristic that most identifies
Sonatina with the blues. Example 19 shows an idiomatic use of syncopation, as outlined
by Charlie Parkers tune, Yardbird Suite. The three examples below Parkers, Bill Evans
improvisation on Miles Davis Nardis, Kapustins Sonatina, and Kapustins Big Band
Sounds, Op. 46 for solo piano, show a similar emphasis.

50

Ex. 19: Staff 1: Charlie Parker, Yardbird Suite, mm. 1-4
94
; Staff 2: Bill Evans, Nardis, mm. 21-
24
95
; Staff 3: Kapustin, Sonatina, Op. 100, mm. 88-91; Staff 4: Kapustin, Big Band Sounds, Op.
46, mm. 9-12.
96

Like many Classical sonatinas the first two themes of the exposition contrast one
another in character. Theme one (example 20a) is more robust and wider in range; theme
two (example 20b) is more lyrical and contained in a higher range.


94
Michael Zisman, ed., The Real Easy Book I: Tunes for Beginning Improvisers (Petaluma, CA: Sher
Music Co., 2003), 81.
95
Bill Evans, Bill Evans: Piano Interpretations (Milwaukee: Hal Leonard, 2002), 53.
96
Kapustin, Big Band Sounds, Op. 46, 36.
51

Ex. 20b: Kapustin, Sonatina, mm. 19-22.

Especially effective in emulating Classical style are the closing periods of the
exposition, which explore simple sequential patterns such as Alberti bass (example 21a).


52

This writing is indebted to examples such as Mozarts Sonata, K. 330 (example 21b).

Ex. 21b: Mozart, Sonata in C Major, K. 330, III, mm. 132-137.
97

Kapustins closing phrase of the exposition (example 22a) recalls the closing phrase of
the exposition of Mozarts Sonata in G Major, K. 283 in its Alberti-like left-hand
sequence pedal (example 22b).

97
Mozart, Klaviersonaten, Band II (Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1977), 158.
53


Ex. 22b: Mozart, Sonata in G Major, K. 283, I, mm. 51-53.
98

The development section makes convincing use of motivic development,
generously parceling out motives from the introductory theme (example 23a). In example
23b, these motives are used in stretto.

Ex. 23a: Introductory theme to Sonatina, mm. 1-2.

98
Mozart, Klaviersonaten, Band I (Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1977), 51.
54

Ex. 23b: Kapustin, Sonatina, mm. 46-53.

Two analyses of Sonatina follow: a schematic including sonata-allegro outline,
Table 1 (p. 56), and the complete work with harmonic analysis, Table 2 (p. 58).

55

Table 1: Kapustin, Sonatina, Op. 100

Key: G major
Length: 107 measures
Approximate performance time: 3 minutes, 30 seconds to 4 minutes.

Exposition: 45 measures (mm. 1-45):
Introduction: G major (I), measures 1-8
Theme 1: G major (I), measures 9-18
Theme 2: D major (V), measures 19-28
Alberti episode: D major (V), measures 29-32
Syncopated episode: D major (V), measures 33-40
Closing phrase: D major (V), measures 41- 45

Development: 18 measures (mm. 46-63)
Key areas: A minor (ii) -- G major (I) -- E minor (vi) -- C major (IV) -- E minor
(vi) -- C major (IV)

Recapitulation: 44 measures (mm. 64-107)
56

Table 1 (cont.)

Theme 1: C major (IV), modulating to G major (I), measures 64-73
Theme 2: G major (I), measures 74-83
Alberti episode: G major (I), measures 84-87
Syncopated episode: G major (I), measures 88-95
Return of introductory material: G major (I), measures 96-103
Closing phrase: G major (I), measures 104-10

57

Table 2: Kapustin, Sonatina, Op. 100

58
Table 2 (cont.)

59
Table 2 (cont.)

60
Table 2 (cont.)

61
Table 2 (cont.)

62
Table 2 (cont.)

63
Table 2 (cont.)

64
Table 2 (cont.)

65

Chapter 4
Harmonic Analysis of the Prelude No. 9 in E Major, Op. 53

Kapustins Twenty-Four Preludes, Op. 53 follow the traditions set forth by Bach,
Chopin, and Scriabin: each prelude is a shorter work exploring either one mood and/or
one technical device. Like Chopins, Kapustins are in all major and minor keys, each
major paired with its relative minor, ascending through the circle of fifths from C major.
Kapustin explains, I wrote them so I could get them all onto a single disc. Theyre very
short as a result. He does not believe that they should necessarily be played as an entire
cycle: I think theyre too long that waypianists can play any part of it. It doesnt
matter.
99
The mood explored in the Prelude No.9 in E Major is that of a jazz ballad.
Kapustins prelude incorporates the universal jazz harmonic progression known
as the two-five-one. In jazz theory, this progression is written in conventional classical
Roman numeral nomenclature as iiVI. In its most general form, the ii implies a
minor seventh chord, the V a dominant seventh chord, and the I a major seventh chord.
Therefore, the iiVI progression in C major would be translated as Dm
7
G
7
CM
7
.
100
A
simplified left-hand voicing follows (example 24a).

99
Smith, 55.
100
While the general tonic-dominant polarity of classical music applies to jazz, the tonic in jazz is almost
universally a major seventh chord, a popular substitute being a major seventh chord with a sharp eleven, or
M7
(#11)
.
66
Ex. 24a:

While a jazz chart may notate Dm
7
, G
7
, or CM
7
, the performer is free to add the
ninth, eleventh or thirteenth to any of the chords at any time. In addition, beginning with
Bebop pianists such as Bud Powell (1924-1966) and later Bill Evans (1929-1980), jazz
relied on rootless left-hand chord voicings to color its melodies and improvisations.
Evans may have played a iiVI in C major like example 24b.
101

Ex. 24b:

Or, wanting a more sparse texture, he may have played something akin to example 24c.

101
In this excerpt, Dm
9
G
13
CM
9
would be more accurate. However, it must be stressed that in the
context of jazz improvisation, melodic material above these chords may change the overall symbol, hence
the generic seventh-chord template. J azz performers often derive ninth-, eleventh-, and thirteenth-chords ad
libitum from a seventh-chord guide.
67
Ex. 24c:

The jazz performer is also free to generously alter chord tones, especially those of
the fifth, ninth, eleventh and thirteenth. The iiVI may be realized as Dm
7
G
7(#5,
9)
CM
7
, as in example 24d.
102

Ex. 24d:

While Kapustin uses standard iiVI voicings in the prelude, he generally includes the
roots in the harmonies. When a jazz ballad is performed in a jazz combo setting, the root
is often defined by the bass, allowing the pianist to explore rootless chord coloring.
Kapustin is merely compensating for the lack of a complete rhythm section, as well as
upholding the Romantic piano tradition of a general non-referential harmonic landscape.

102
In jazz, a dominant seventh chord with the sharp fifth (#5) as well as a flattened ninth (9) may be
referred to as an altered chord. See Mark Levine, The Jazz Theory Book (Petaluma, CA: Sher Music Co.,
1995), 70.
68
Finally, similar to the way in which the augmented sixth chord colors dominant
preparation in classical music, jazz decorates its dominant preparation through tritone
substitution, in which a chord a tritone away from the original is substituted into the
harmonic progression. If this were applied to the iiVI in C major, it may sound as a
A
7
D
7
CM
7
. What was originally the Dm
7
chord has been substituted with a chord a
tritone away, likewise with the G
7
(example 24e).

Ex. 24e:

In future examples, the iiVI progressions are indicated via Roman numerals as
a general harmonic template, while the individual chord qualities are specified by lead
sheet chord symbols. A iiVI progression in a different key is prefaced by the Roman
numeral indicating its position in the tonic scale. If a piece were in the key of C major, a
iiVI would be indicated simply as iiVI, while a iiVI in the key of F would be
indicated as [IV: iiVI] since F is the fourth scale degree in C major.
69
Tritone substitution can be heard in measure 33, in which the first two chords of a
iiVI progression in the tonic, E major, are replaced by chords a tritone away. What
would functionally be F#m
7
(ii)B
7
(V)EM
7
(I) turns into CM
7
FM
7
EM
7
(#11)
(example
25).

Ex. 25: Kapustin, Prelude No. 9 in E Major, Op. 53, mm. 33-35.
103

Many jazz tunes are simply chains of iiVI progressions in different keys, as in
Keith J arretts Bop-Be (example 26a). After a tonic chord in the key of F major (FM7),
the A section continues with four, iiVI progressions in the keys of D minor, B-flat
major, A-flat major, and finally F major, whose tonic chord elides into the repeat.

103
Kapustin, Twenty-Four Preludes in J azz Style, Op. 53, manuscript.
70

Ex. 26a: Keith J arrett, Bop-Be, mm. 1-8.
104

In the jazz standard Bluesette (example 26b) we hear a mosaic of iiVI
progressions, some of them truncated to iiV. In measures 21 through 24, Bluesette
incorporates another universal jazz progression, the turnaround, commonly IviiiV or
iiiviiiV. The turnaround is often found beginning or ending sections of jazz standards.

104
Keith Jarrett At the Blue Note: The Complete Recordings, Keith J arrett, Gary Peacock, J ack DeJohnette,
ECM records, Compact Disc B000024J EX, 1994. Transcribed by the author.
71
Ex. 26b: Toots Thieleman, Bluesette, mm. 1-24.
105

Like Bluesette, Bop-Be, and countless other jazz tunes, Kapustins prelude is
saturated with the iiVI progression (example 26c).

105
Chuck Sher, ed., The Standards Real Book (Petaluma, CA: Sher Music, Co., 2000), 69.
72
Ex. 26c: Kapustin, Prelude, mm. 1-8.

It sounds as though Kapustin began the prelude on a turnaround in C major
(IviiiI), but after the first two chords, he interrupts to the iiVI in the tonic key of E
major. This mediant relationship permeates the prelude and is indicative of the harmonic
73
innovations of J ohn Coltrane, whose 1959 composition Giant Steps exemplifies the
practice of stringing together iiVI progressions a third apart. Coltrane divided the
octave into three equal parts (example 27a).

Ex. 27a:

Giant Steps (examples 27b and 27c) is a chain of iiVI progressions and their
derivatives in the tonic, E-flat major (I), the major mediant, G major (III), and the sharp
dominant, B major (#V).

Ex. 27b: J ohn Coltrane, Giant Steps, mm. 1-16.
106

106
Chuck Sher, ed., The New Real Book, Vol.2 (Petaluma, CA: Sher Music, Co., 1991), 121.
74

Ex. 27c: Mediant relationships in Coltranes Giant Steps.

Kapustins mosaic of iiVI progressions also work off mediant relationships, as seen in
the first eleven measures (example 27d).

Ex. 27d: Kapustin, Prelude, mm. 1-11.

In Table 3 (p. 76), the Prelude No. 9 in E Major, Op. 53 is in the top two staves,
while a harmonic reduction is in the bottom two staves.

75
Table 3: Kapustin, Prelude No. 9 in E Major, Op. 53

76
Table 3 (cont.)

77
Table 3 (cont.)

78
Table 3 (cont.)

79
Table 3 (cont.)

80
Table 3 (cont.)

81
Table 3 (cont.)

82
Table 3 (cont.)

83
Table 3 (cont.)

84

Table 3 (cont.)

85
Table 3 (cont.)

86

Chapter 5
Formal Analysis of the Fugue No. 1 in C Major, Op. 82

Nikolai Kapustins magnum opus is his Twenty-Four Preludes and Fugues, Op.
82 (1997) for solo piano. Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975) was the first Russian
composer to present this compositional cycle in 1951 with his Twenty-Four Preludes and
Fugues, Op. 87. They were followed by examples from Russian composers Rhodion
Shchedrin and Sergei Slonimsky, both born in 1932. Along with these examples, the Op.
82 preludes and fugues are remarkable not only for their craft and creativity, but because
solo piano cycles of this scope are rare in the latter half of the twentieth century.
Comprising over two-hundred pages, the fugues range from two to fives voices and the
preludes extend from short, attacca introductions, to substantial character pieces that
could be performed out of context. The preludes and fugues demonstrate a wide range of
jazz styles, with a particular emphasis given to bebop, hard bop, and modal jazz.
Kapustin organized the key structure in a radically different way from his
predecessors. Tables 4a and 4b (p. 88) compare the key organization of Bachs preludes
and fugues with Kapustins and his contemporaries.

87

Table 4a

Composer

J .S. Bach

Dmitri Shostakovich

Rhodion Shchedrin

Sergei Slonimsky

Nikolai Kapustin
Date composed

1722, 1744

1951

1960-77

1994

1997
Key scheme

Ascending chromatically from C; major paired with
parallel minor

Ascending circle of fifths from C; major paired with
relative minor

Ascending circle of fifths from C; major paired with
relative minor

Ascending chromatically from C; major paired with
parallel minor

Majors descend through circle of fifths from C; minors
descend through circle of fifths from G-sharp minor;
majors paired with minors an augmented fifth higher

Table 4b

Composers

Bach, Slonimsky

Shostakovich, Shchedrin

Kapustin
Key scheme

(C major/C minor), (C-sharp major/C-sharp minor), etc.

(C major/A minor), (G major/E minor), etc.

(C major/G-sharp minor), (F major/C-sharp minor), etc.

Slonimsky followed Bachs example of pairing parallel major and minors that rise
chromatically. Shostakovich and Shchedrin follow the plan laid out in Frederic Chopins
Preludes, Op. 28 (1839), in which majors, each paired with its relative minor, ascend
through the circle of fifths from C. Kapustins key scheme follows neither Bachs nor
Chopins: majors are paired with minors, but the major keys descend through the circle of
fifths starting from C major while the minor keys also descend through the circle of
fifths, starting from G-sharp minor. As a result, distantly related keys are placed
alongside one another.
88
The synthesis in the Fugue No. 1 in C Major, Op. 82 is that of high-Baroque fugal

procedure and bebop syntax. A bebop fugue is not nearly as odd as it may sound. Both

musical traditions share many similar compositional and performance practices,

including

1) An emphasis on improvisation
2) An emphasis on virtuosity
3) Complex, often angular melodies, emulating style bris
4) A propensity towards short, melodic sequencing
5) A propensity towards shorter, harmonic sequencing, especially circle of fifths
6) Fast harmonic pace, propelled by walking bass
7) An open embrace of dissonance

In fact, jazz has close ties to a practice of the Renaissance known as parody, a
technique of composition involving the use of pre-existing material. The practice was
particularly crucial to Mass composition, incorporating melodic material derived from a
motet, chanson, or madrigal. This is analogous to jazz, in which the head of a tune, the
opening melody, is composed over the chord changes of another tune, usually a standard.
Charlie Parkers Ornithology is based on the chord changes to Morgan Lewis How High
the Moon. Likewise, Sonny Rollins Oleo is based on George Gershwins universal
contrafactum I Got Rhythm.
107

During the 1940s, bebop, sometimes referred to as simply bop, distanced itself
from its predecessor swing, the dominant jazz style of the 1930s. Bebop abandoned
swings relationship with dance and placed a greater emphasis on the virtuoso
musician.
108
Heads and solos unleashed torrents of eighth notes in scalar and arpeggiated

107
In jazz theory, it is referred to as contrafact. Dozens of jazz tunes are based on the chord changes to
Gershwins I Got Rhythm. See Levine, The Jazz Theory Book, 415. Along with I Got Rhythm, bebop
compositions were often based on the blues, such as Charlie Parkers Billies Bounce.
108
Swing was the last time jazz and popular music were one in the same. Because bebop did not emphasize
dancing, jazz soon became music for its own sake and therefore less popular with the public. Proponents of
swing include Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Benny Goodman, and Louis Armstrong.
89
patterns built upon the original themes chord changes, as in Charlie Parker and Dizzie
Gillespies Shaw Nuff based on I Got Rhythm (example 28).

Ex. 28: Charlie Parker/Dizzy Gillespie, Shaw Nuff, mm. 21-28.
109

In bebop, tempos are faster and require a more versatile approach, especially from
the rhythm section. Pianists stop obviously marking the beat and choose sparser textures
rather than full chords. Bass players spin out involved walking bass lines, relieving some
of the other rhythm sections time-keeping duties. Drummers shift emphasis to ride
cymbals instead of the more dominating hi-hat or bass drum. Unlike earlier forms of jazz,
bebop openly embraced a richer, more dissonant harmonic vocabulary, making much
more use of altered ninth, eleventh, and thirteenth chords.
Similarities between bebop and Baroque melodic sequencing can be heard when

comparing Bachs Corrente from Partita No. 3 in A Minor, BWV 827 (example 29a)

and Charlie Parkers Ornithology (example 29b). Of particular note are the rising outlines

of diminished harmonies.

109
Chuck Sher, ed., The New Real Book (Petaluma, CA: Sher Music, Co., 1988), 317.
90
Ex. 29a: Bach, Corrente from Partita No. 3 in A Minor, BWV 827, mm. 42-45.
110

Ex 29b: Charlie Parker, Ornithology, mm. 13-16.
111

Well into the fusion movement, which began in the late 1960s, melodic concepts
often mimicked Baroque practices. Fusion pioneer Chick Coreas Got a Match? (example
30b) resembles sequencing in Bachs Prelude No. 14 in F-Sharp Minor from The Well-
Tempered Klavier, Book I, BWV 859 (example 30a).

110
Bach, Sechs Partiten (Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1979), 43.
111
The Real Easy Book, Vol.2, 139.
91
Ex. 30a: Bach, Prelude No.14 in F-Sharp Minor, from The Well-Tempered Klavier, Book I, BWV
859, mm. 8-10.
112

Ex. 30b: Chick Corea, Got a Match?, mm. 1-8.
113

Baroque keyboard composers emulated style bris, the characteristically broken,
arpeggiated style of seventeenth-century French lute music. With its distinctive
angularity, a single melody may have contrapuntal implications. The same can be said for
bebop melodies. In the following three examples, style bris elements are found in
Bachs Invention No. 1 in C Major, BWV 772 (example 31a), Oscar Petersons

112
Bach, Das Wohltemperierte Klavier, Teil I (Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1978), 68.
113
The New Real Book, Vol.2, 122.
92
improvisation on J erome Kerns Im Old Fashioned (example 31b), as well as the subject
of Kapustins Fugue No. 1 in C Major, Op. 82 (example 31c).

Ex. 31a: Bach, Invention No. 1 in C Major, BWV 722, mm. 21-22.
114

Ex. 31b: Peterson, Im Old Fashioned (Jerome Kern), mm. 63-64.
115

114
Bach, Keyboard Music (New York: Dover, 1970), 271.
115
Peterson, The Very Best of Oscar Peterson, 51.
93
Ex.31c: Kapustin, Fugue No. 1 in C Major, Op. 82, mm. 1-4.
116

Style bris brings with it harmonic implications as well, as heard in the subject of
Bachs Gigue from Paritita No. 4 in D Major, BWV 828 (example 32a) as well as
Kapustins fugue subject (example 32b).

Ex. 32a: Bach, Gigue from Partita No. 4 in D Major, BWV 828, mm. 1-6.
117

116
Kapustin, Twenty-Four Preludes and Fugues, Vol.1 (Moscow: A-Ram, 2005), 6.
117
Bach, 182.
94
Ex. 32b: Kapustin, Fugue, mm. 1-4.

Kapustins subject begins with a harmonic sequence found in many jazz
standards. Unlike the iiVI and the turnaround (IviiiV or iiiviiiV), this
progression emphasizes the subdominant (IV/IVIViv).
118
Along with the iiVI and
the turnaround, this subdominant progression is found in George Gershwins I Got
Rhythm (example 33a).

Ex. 33a: George Gershwin, I Got Rhythm, mm. 1-8.
119

118
The subdominant progressions most common variant is the ii V I in the subdominant then the
flattened subtonic, or [IV: ii V I] VII. Therefore, in C, it would sound: [Gm
7
C
7
FM
7
] B
7
. In
both the original progression and this variant, the subdominant is emphasized and briefly tonicized.
119
Chuck Sher, ed., The Standards Real Book (Petaluma, CA: Sher Music Co., 2000), 191.
95

With three simple harmonic constructs, the iiVI, the turnaround, and the subdominant
progression, it is possible to construct a thirty-bar jazz tune, the most common form of
standard songs from the 1930s and 40s. I Got Rhythms format is represented by Table 5.

Table 5
Form

A section
(mm. 1-16)

B section
(mm. 17-24)

A section
(mm. 25-32)
Harmonic progression

Turnaround Turnaround Subdominant progression [iiVI]
(IviiiV) (iiiviiiV) (IV/IVIViv)


Turnaround
(IIIVIIIV)


Rather than beginning with the more harmonically stable turnaround, Kapustin
begins the subject with the subdominant progression, creating a distinct harmonic pull all
the way to the cadence in the final bar. After the subdominant progression, the subject
concludes with a referential iiVI, with the ii chord substituted by a second inversion
tonic chord (example 33b).

96

In Baroque music, the circle of fifths is a ubiquitous harmonic force. The same
holds true for jazz because the chords of the pervasive iiV progression are a fifth apart
(descending). Both in the first movement of Antonio Vivaldis Violin Concerto in G
Minor, Op. 3 No. 2 (example 34a), and J erome Kerns standard All the Things You Are
(example 34b), the circle of fifths initiates a fast harmonic pace in relatively little musical
space.

97
Ex. 34a: Antonio Vivaldi, Violin Concerto in G Minor, Op. 3 No. 2, I, mm. 14-16.
120

Ex. 34b: J erome Kern, All the Things You Are, mm. 1-8.
121

In this interlude from Kapustins fugue, one observes circle of fifths movement as well
(example 34c).

120
Antonion Vivaldi, LEstro Armonico, Op.3 (Mineola, NY: Dover, 1999), 24.
121
The New Real Book, 4.
98
Ex. 34c: Kapustin, Fugue, mm. 9-13.

Kapustins fugue utilizes all of the classic procedures one would find in high-
Baroque practice. An exposition is announced in the right hand by a single subject
(example 35).

Ex. 35: Kapustin, Fugue, mm. 1-4.

The subject is followed immediately by its real answer for the left hand and the
countersubject by the right hand (example 36).

99

In the third measure, the fugue subject has slightly deviated from its first statement. The
same is true for the countersubject, which never quite appears again in its initial form.
Kapustin used Baroque formal strictures, but, like a good jazzman, he felt free to tweak
motives and create a spontaneous texture in which the spirit of the subject is maintained,
but is also allowed to develop melodically and rhythmically.
The subject enters three times, first in C major, then in G major (after a brief
interlude), and again in C major, concluding the exposition. The episode directly after the
exposition foreshadows a second subject, derivative of the first (example 37a). This
second subject is shorter and less harmonically conclusive (example 37b).

Ex. 37a: Kapustin, Fugue, mm. 1-4.

100

After this episode, the first subject is stated three times, in F minor, C-sharp
minor, and A-flat major. Abruptly, the second subject, in stretto, is stated in E major
(example 38a). Still in stretto, it is then inverted (example 38b), followed by a third entry
of the second subject, this time in B major (example 38c).


101

Ex. 38c: Kapustin, Fugue, mm. 45-46.

What follows is a large episode, building to the return of the first subject in C
major. In this return Kapustin combined the subject with its own augmentation in two
separate instances (examples 39a and 39b).

102



Uncharacteristic of fugal procedure, Kapustin, in the final episode, engaged in
extended periods of homophony. The final bars of the fugue are less concerned with
counterpoint as they are with a sense of denouement. The contrapuntal texture gives way
to fragmented motivic pieces slowly disintegrating, finally pausing on
the dominant, G, setting up the final bars in C major (example 40).

103


In the coda, or tag as it is called in jazz, the subject is stated monophonically,
unison in both hands (example 41). A tag is characteristically whimsical, and, like some
codas in nineteenth-century opera performance practice, taken at a slightly faster
tempo.
122

122
On Nikolai Kapustin, Kapustin: Twenty-Four Preludes and Fugues, Op.82, Violin Sonata etc., Nikolai
Kapustin, Triton Records, OVCT-00010, 2001, Kapustin plays the tag faster. In a lesson with the author,
April 4, 2000, conductor Imr Pall, in reference to Escamillos Torreador aria from Georges Biets
104


Table 6 is a formal and harmonic schematic of the fugue. S1:C, for example, would
indicate the first subject in C major.

Table 6
Exposition
S1:C S1:G Interlude S1:C
M.1 5 9 13
Episode
S2:D
18
Thematic statement
S1:f S1:c# S1:Ab
22 26 30
Thematic statement
S2:E S2:e S2:B
34 39 45

Episode

M. 52
Thematic statement
S1:C S1:C S1:C S1:F
63 67 77 81
Episode

84
Tag
S1:C
94

Carmen, noted that playing the endings of opera arias faster is in poor taste because it sounds like
vaudeville.
105
This chapter concludes with Table 7, a complete analysis of the Fugue No. 1 in C Major,
Op. 82.

Table 7: Kapustin, Fugue No. 1 in C Major, Op. 82.

106

Table 7 (cont.)

107

Table 7 (cont.)

108

Table 7 (cont.)

109

Table 7 (cont.)

110

Table 7 (cont.)

111

Table 7 (cont.)

112

Table 7 (cont.)

113

Table 7 (cont.)

114

Table 7 (cont.)

Unlike Gunther Schuller, Kapustin does not strive for a mutual fructifying in
which classical musicians learn from jazz performers timing, rhythmic accuracy, and
subtlety, and jazzmen learn from classical performers dynamics, structure, and
contrast.
123
Kapustins music is thoroughly classical and meant for the classically trained
pianist. While it would behoove the performer to familiarize themselves with the jazz
influences, one need not have any experience in jazz improvisation to execute the music,
just as a classical ballet dancer need not have studied jazz dance in order to incorporate
jazz elements into their footwork. Prominent jazz artists have yet to embrace Kapustins
music; those classical concert pianists who have performed his works, namely Nikolai
Petrov, Stephen Osborne, and Marc-Andr Hamelin, have no experience improvising in
jazz combos and big bands.
124

123
Schuller, 117.
124
Hamelin is also a composer with over a dozen piano works, but these works mainly consist of
hypervirtuosic transcriptions, and do not incorporate improvisation. Hamelin has, however, improvised on
stage, as in the optional cadenza to Frederick Rzewskis The People United Will Never Be Defeated!
115
Weary from the postmodernist cry of anything goes, listeners may find the
music of Nikolai Kapustin naive. There is no concern for metanarratives, temporal
disorder or polystylism. He does not seek to destroy the boundaries of high and low
art. Rather, he acknowledges these politically incorrect hierarchies and unapologetically
maintains that they can and should coexist. But it is even simpler than that: Kapustin is an
unassuming, classically trained pianist-composer fulfilling his love for jazz in the way he
feels most comfortable, via classical forms. It is music for its own sake, without precept
or pretense. Kapustin has no desire to create anything new or achieve a lasting,
international status. He gives one the distinct impression that it would never matter
whether he makes it to the history books, even though he is well on his way. It is my
sincere hope that this document is the first of many celebrating the music of Nikolai
Girshevich Kapustin.

116

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120

Appendix: Works List

Opus 1: Concertino for Piano and Orchestra (1957)
Opus 2: Concerto for Piano and Orchestra No. 1 (1961)
Opus 3: Variation for Piano and Big Band (1962)
Opus 4: Chorale and Fugue for Orchestra (1962)
Opus 5: Piece for Trumpet and Orchestra (1962)
Opus 6: Rose-Marie Fantasia for Orchestra (1963)
Opus 7: Fantasia on Three Childrens Songs for Orchestra (1963)
Opus 8: Toccata for Piano and Orchestra (1964)
Opus 9: The Trial for Orchestra (1966)
Opus 10: Big Band Sounds for Orchestra (1966)
Opus 11: Estacade for Big Band (1966)
Opus 12: Aquarium Blues for Big Band (1967)
Opus 13: Intermezzo for Piano and Orchestra (1968)
Opus 15: The Forest Story for Orchestra (1972)
Opus 16: Nocturne for Piano and Orchestra (1972)
Opus 17: Three Pieces for Orchestra (1972)
Opus 18: Four Pieces for Instrumental Ensemble (1973)
Opus 19: Etude for Piano and Orchestra (1974)
Opus 20: Nocturne for Piano and Orchestra (1974)
Opus 21: Minuet for Big Band (1974)
Opus 22: Piece for Five Saxophones and Orchestra (1975)
Opus 23: Enigma for Big Band (1975)
Opus 24: March for Orchestra (1975)
Opus 25: Concert Rhapsody for Piano and Orchestra (1976)
Opus 26: Sunrise for Piano (1976)
Opus 26a: Sunrise for Orchestra (1976)
Opus 27: Fantasia for J azz Quartet (1976)
Opus 28: Suite in the Old Style for Piano (1977)
Opus 29: Scherzo for Piano and Orchestra (1978)
Opus 30: Two-movement Concerto for Orchestra (1980)
Opus 31: Elegy for Orchestra (1980)
Opus 32: The Wind from the North for Orchestra (1981)
Opus 33: Piece for Two Pianos and Orchestra (1982)
Opus 34: Meridian for Orchestra (1982)
Opus 35: Closed Curve for Orchestra (1982)
Opus 36: Toccatina for Piano (1983)
Opus 37: The Pleasant Meeting for Orchestra (1983)
Opus 38: Presentiment for Orchestra (1983)
Opus 39: Piano Sonata No.1 Quasi Una Fantasia for Piano (1984)
Opus 40: Eight Concert Studies for Piano (1984)
121

Appendix: Works List (cont.)

Opus 41: Variations for Piano (1984)
Opus 42: Rush Hour for Ensemble (1985)
Opus 43: An April Day for Ensemble (1985)
Opus 44: The Morning for Ensemble (1985)
Opus 45: Motive Force for Piano (1985)
Opus 46: Big Band Sounds for Piano (1986)
Opus 47: Contemplation for Piano (1987)
Opus 49: Sinfonietta for Orchestra (1987)
Opus 50: Concerto for Alto Saxophone and Orchestra (1987)
Opus 51: Overture for Big Band (1987)
Opus 52: Intrada for Big Band (1988)
Opus 53: Twenty-Four Preludes for Piano (1988)
Opus 54: Piano Sonata No. 2 (1989)
Opus 57: Chamber Symphony for Chamber Orchestra (1990)
Opus 58: Andante for Piano (1990)
Opus 59: Ten Bagatelles for Piano (1991)
Opus 63: Sonata for Cello and Piano No. 1 (1991)
Opus 64: Piano Sonata No.7 (1991)
Opus 65: Berceuse for Piano (1991)
Opus 66: Three Impromptus for Piano (1991)
Opus 67: Three Etudes for Piano (1992)
Opus 68: Five Etudes in Different Intervals for Piano (1992)
Opus 69: Sonata for Viola and Piano (1992)
Opus 70: Sonata for Violin and Piano (1992)
Opus 71: Capriccio for Piano (1992)
Opus 73: Ten Inventions for Piano (1993)
Opus 75: Humoresque for Piano (1994)
Opus 76: Concerto for Double Bass and Symphony Orchestra (1994)
Opus 79: Piece for Sextet (1995)
Opus 80: Theme and Variations for Piano (1996)
Opus 82: Twenty-four Preludes and Fugues for Piano (1997)
122


Opus 83: Impromptu for piano (1997)
Opus 84: Sonata for Cello and Piano No. 2 (1997)
Opus 85: Concerto for Cello and Orchestra (1997)
Opus 86: Trio for Flute, Cello and Piano (1998)
Opus 87: Seven Polyphonic Pieces for Piano Left Hand (1998)
Opus 88: String Quartet (1998)
Opus 89: Piano Quintet (1998)
Opus 90: Concerto for Eleven Instruments (1998)
Opus 91: Divertissement for Two Flutes, Cello and Piano (1998)
Opus 92: Suite for Piano (1999)
Opus 93: Introduction and Scherzino for Cello Solo (1999)
Opus 94: Ballad for Piano (1999)
Opus 95: Scherzo for Piano (1999)
Opus 96: Elegy for Cello and Piano (1999)
Opus 97: Burlesque for Cello and Piano (1999)
Opus 98: Nearly Waltz for Cello and Piano (1999)
Opus 99: Duet for Alto Saxophone and Cello (1999)
Opus 100: Sonatina for Piano (2000)
Opus 101: Piano Sonata No. 11 Twickenham (2000)
Opus 103: Concerto No. 2 for Cello and String Orchestra (2002)
Opus 104: Concert for Two Pianos and Percussion (2002)
Opus 105: Concert for Violin, Piano and String Orchestra (2002)
Opus 106: Suite for Viola, Alto Saxophone, Piano and Bass (2002)
Opus 107: Variations on Sweet Georgia Brown for Viola, Alto Saxophone, Piano and
Bass (2002)
Opus 108: Paraphrase on a Theme of Paul Dvoyrin for Piano (2003)
Opus 109: There is Something Behind That for Piano (2003)
Opus 111: Gingerbread Man for Piano (2003)
Opus 112: End of the Rainbow for Piano (2003)
Opus 113: Wheel of Fortune for Piano (2003)
Opus 114: No Stop Signs for Piano (2003)
Opus 115: Fantasia for Piano (2003)
Opus 116: Rondoletto for Piano (2003)
Opus 117: Spice Island for Piano (2003)
Opus 118: Paraphrase on Aquarela do Brasil by Ary Barroso for Piano (2003)
Opus 119: Nothing to Lose for Piano (2004)
Opus 121: Vanity of Vanities for Piano (2004)
Opus 122: Two Etude-like Trinkets for Piano (2004)
Opus 123: Paraphrase on Blue Bossa by Kenny Dorham for Piano (2004)
123


Opus 124: Suite for Cello Solo (2004)
Opus 125: Sonata for Flute and Piano (2004)
Opus 126: Divertissement in Four Movements for Violin, Cello and Piano (2005)
124

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