Die 1887, fast dreißig Jahre vor dem Violinkonzert entstandene Erste Symphonie ist charakteristischer in ihren Melodien. Das tief romantische Werk hat einen dramatischen ersten Satz, ein berührendes Andante, das Yablonsky wirklich sostenuto spielen lässt, ein von der russischen Folklore beeinflusstes Scherzo und ein glänzendes Finale von eruptiver Kraft. Dmitry Yablonsky dirigiert inspiriert und gib der Musik mit seinem Orchester einen genuin russischen, also sehr authentischen Charakter.

Wer Neues entdecken will, wird hiervon nicht enttäuscht sein.

The young Prokofiev, a student in St Petersburg, noted that one his professors, Sergey Lyapunov, was nicknamed “St Serge…referring to his exceptional piety and the nobility of his countenance.” Lyapunov was by 1913 quite the old guard in Prokofiev’s eyes, but subsequent mentions in the student’s diary were filled with respect—unusual for the otherwise snide, often snotty Prokofiev.

Most of Lyapunov’s music fell by the wayside. After all, there were Rimsky-Korsakoff and Tchaikovsky for the old school, Rachmaninoff representing the last hurrah of the romantics, and Stravinsky already shaking things up.

So these two new releases from Naxos give us works that have no grounding in familiarity and distinguish themselves, on initial listenings, as much by who they remind me of as by the charm of the pieces themselves.

And they are charming in a broad, sweeping, brassy way. Listen to Lyapunov spin out his ideas in the first movement of his first movement and, sure, you’ll think Tchaikovsky. Four noble brass chords; a subservient answer from the strings. And again. And then the melody rolls out, slowly, portentously, soon hitting a Brahmsian passage of winds over plucked violins.

Which is not to deny the composer his own identity, but I always look for something to cling to when wandering in the unfamiliar. If anything, that movement soon presents a picture of Lyapunov as a bit of the anti-Tchaikovsky, resisting the other’s habit of never letting a good tune go, developing his material in fascinating ways. If the scherzo is pure Peter Illyich, then the slow second movement has Sibelius in its ears.

There’s no possible way to avoid comparing Lyapunov’s single-movement Violin Concerto to the one written 10 years before by Glazunov, but this one culminates in a long and fiery cadenza before its short wrap-up, and has to be as much fun to perform as to listen to.

The mantle of Liszt hangs over the works for piano and orchestra, although it’s Liszt by way of Rachmaninoff. Again, both concertos are single-movement, episodic works with a good deal of virtuoso passagework, and the Rhapsody on Ukrainian Themes, which puts to use folk material that was always one of the composer’s interests.

Both discs feature the Russian Philharmonic (actually, the Moscow City Symphony) conducted by Moscow-born, Yale-educated Dmitry Yablonsky, and the forces sound excellent. Likewise, violinist Maxim Fedotov and pianist Shorena Tsintsabadze bring amazing chops to bear on the solo parts, reminding us that such talent isn’t always imore....

Review By James Manheim,Allmusic.com,February 2011

Sergey Lyapunov was part of the generation of mostly lightly nationalist Russian composers trained by the Mighty Handful, in this case Mily Balakirev. Before long he became better known as a pianist than as a composer, and most of his music was forgotten. But the Naxos label has specialized in finding the nuggets among the gravel, and they’ve come up with one herein Lyapunov’s Violin Concerto in D minor, Op. 61. The work was composed in 1915, toward the end of his life, and apparently reflects a process in which he left some of his more generic Russian late Romantic influences behind. The chief attraction is in the violin writing, which is highly idiomatic despite the fact that the violin wasn’t Lyapunov’s instrument. The solo part is dense and extraordinarily difficult, suggesting a transfer of the Lisztian language of Lyapunov’s piano concertos to the violin; the dense figuration breaks off only for ultra-sensuous romantic melody. Russian violinist Maxim Fedotov does the work justice with a vigorous, slashing performance that does not flag in the giant cadenza at the end of the work’s single movement. It’s a bit surprising that more famous contemporary violinists of the Russian school haven’t trotted this piece out; it’s of moderate length, and it would make an ideal concert opener. But apparently Fedotov’s is the only version currently available, and it’s entirely satisfying. The Symphony No. 1 in B minor, Op. 12, completed in 1887, is much less fun; it is competently orchestrated but never seems to break out of the walls it constructs around itself. Still, the recording-oriented Russian Philharmonic Orchestra under Dmitry Yablonsky is consistent, and Russian music lovers will want the concerto in their collections.

What neglect that was can be gauged from the opening bars of the Violin Concert, a mature work that has the gorgeous melodies, the high energy, and the romantic sweep that we have come to expect of a Russian concerto. It is a single-movement work in an unusual form. Three distinct melodies, the first marked Allegro appassionato with brilliant solo passagework, the second an expressive Russian melody marked Un poco piu tranquillo, and the third, Scherzando, with lots of figuration and scope for technical display by the violinist, are presented and developed. Then, we have an expressive Adagio, with the melody entrusted to the soloist, and the three themes are reprised again in apple pie order. This is followed by a cadenza and a thrilling final section marked Piu mosso, agitato (less lively, agitated). Throughout the concerto, Fedotov plays with considerable expression and style, and Yablonsky shows himself the ideal collaborator from the podium.

The Symphony, an early exercise in that form written when the 28-year-old Lyapunov was very much influenced by the Russian National School and in particular its founder and his mentor, Mily Balakirev, is a bold, full-bodied work in four movements, filled with the ardor of youth. That ardor can be heard in the proclamation of the main theme by the four horns in the opening movement, the warmly expressive second movement, marked Andante sostenuto, and the lively Scherzo, marked Allegretto vivace, that sounds to my ears like a village harvest celebration. All these movements have attractive folk-like melodies, in keeping with the nationalist aims that inspired Lyapunov and his generation. The finale is bold and decisive, making us wonder once again where Sergei Lyapunov has been all our lives?