Experimental music, by its nature, is hard to define. That’s because many of the artists who make it cross so many boundaries and work with the intentionof creating an experience rather than adding to a defined repertory. Among such innovation-minded contemporary artists, Trimpin — the sound sculptor, composer, engineer, and inventor — is one of the most renowned.
Known in North America and Europe largely for his multifaceted installations, the 73-year-old creates his own instruments — often out of found objects like old Dutch clogs, toys, beer bottles, saw blades, and electric guitars — and animates and controls them via MIDI (Musical Instrument Digital Interface). Trimpin has been the recipient of numerous awards, fellowships, prizes, and commissions, including a 1997 MacArthur Foundation “genius” grant. His latest project, The Cello Quartet, will be presented at the 28th Other Minds Festival, which runs Sept. 25–28 at San Francisco’s Brava Theater.
The Cello Quartet features three cellos (without musicians) perched on separate platforms that move around the stage, another platform with a live cellist on it (rounding out the quartet), and another with a piano. Several live dancers, choreographed by Margaret Fisher, will be interacting with the moving instruments like circus performers. The production was made possible through a generous grant from the Hewlett Foundation.
Lori Goldston, the human cellist in the piece, said that she didn’t know Trimpin personally until he approached her about the project. While Goldston is no stranger to collaborating across genres, she said that working with him has been a “pretty unique experience” and described him as being full of curiosity.
“It’s been delightful working with him. He is a trusting collaborator, and his work is packed with joy and humor,” said the Seattle-based cellist. Of taking on a role in The Cello Quartet, she added,“I’m inclined toward improvisation and usually steer clear of backing tracks, looping, and other fixed sound sources, so working with MIDI-triggered sources is a big switch from my usual contexts. I’m an ultra-organic foil to the machines.”
Born in a small town in southwestern Germany, Trimpin grew up in a place where cuckoo clocks and other coin-operated entertainment machines could be found everywhere, and these fascinated him at an early age. He was exposed to live music because his father played in a brass band and gave music lessons, and there were many brass instruments around for the young artist to play and tinker with.
“When I was playing the trombone, I was not satisfied with the monophonic sound which came out of it,” said Trimpin. “So I actually added a second bell to have the polyphonic capabilities available, making sound with multiple notes and tones. I had a hacksaw and cut the trombone apart, and everybody always said, ‘You shouldn’t do this.’ But my parents didn’t complain, so it was OK.”
Eventually, Trimpin developed a curious allergy to the brass instrument and had to quit playing, which triggered his desire to experiment and create his own instruments. After moving to Berlin to attend university, he apprenticed as an electromechanical engineer and began working as a set designer, going “more in the direction of experimenting and working with sound sculptures,” he recounted. But he discovered that Germany was less hospitable to his practice, so in 1980, he decided to move to the United States. He settled in Seattle to continue his work. His first few years there, he worked occasionally on a fishing boat in Alaska to make ends meet.
“For several years, I was going off for one month on a fishing boat and fishing for salmon or herring, and you could make enough money — usually $10,000 a month in the early 1980s. But then I got hired by the [Sweelinck Conservatorium] in Amsterdam for three years, and then after that I was ready to go back to Seattle and work in my studio.”
One of his early grants came from New Langton Arts, an artist-run organization located in San Francisco from 1975 to 2010, for which he developed several new pieces.
In 2007, Bay Area filmmaker Peter Esmonde was searching for a unique artist to be the subject of his first documentary feature, and he chose Trimpin.
“I was looking for someone who spanned several artistic categories and ideally who did something visual and audio because in a film you need both,” said Esmonde. “And also somebody who was well regarded by his peers. So I just kept asking friends who were artists and musicians … and the name Trimpin came up. At the time, various arts organizations in Seattle were getting together to do a multi-venue retrospective of Trimpin’s stuff, and I thought, ‘If I am going to make a film, now’s the time to do it.’ I had the opportunity to film him assembling a number of works.”
The film, titled Trimpin: The Sound of Invention, premiered at the 2009 South by Southwest Film Festival and was shown at a number of other festivals as well. It beautifully captures Trimpin working on various projects in his studio, including a collaboration with the Kronos Quartet.
Esmonde said that working with Trimpin was terrific. “He is unique. Among people who know certain kinds of contemporary music or are very interested in certain kinds of kinetic arts and kinetic sculpture, he’s a real touch point.”
Trimpin’s work has been inspired by many experimental composers, including John Cage, Henry Brant, and Samuel Conlon Nancarrow, who was known for writing pieces for player pianos more complicated than a human could play. Trimpin met and befriended Nancarrow in 1980, working and collaborating with him until the composer’s death in 1997.
Charles Amirkhanian, executive and artistic director of Other Minds, which has long championed new and experimental music, has known Trimpin for many years and chose him to be one of the artists at the very first Other Minds Festival in 1993. An accomplished composer himself, Amirkhanian enthused, “One of my greatest discoveries was meeting Trimpin. This guy’s a MacArthur Fellow and an inventor of unbelievable talent. There are other people inventing instruments, but he goes beyond just making them. He actually figures out inventive ways to employ them in compositions. He wants to make sounds that aren’t electronic but are acoustic and controlled by computers though some sort of elaborate mechanism that produces the event that gives you the sound.”
Trimpin spent several years developing The Cello Quartet. And though he’s an old hand at creating innovative and original installations, he believes that this new project includes some things he has never done before.
“The kind of idea in my work with music [had always been] dealing with three parameters — timbre, pitch, and time,” said Trimpin. “But my interest [became] to give it a fourth dimension or parameter — adding space, movement, and motion. The Cello Quartet basically is three autonomous [cellos] and one live cello actually moving onstage while the music is playing. So everything is in motion and that’s adding the fourth dimension — the spatial imaging into a performing art where all four dimensions are a part of it.
“Also, in the first movement, I developed a system for the piano. Right above the piano strings there are some coils, and when the coils are energized, they bring the strings into vibration, without touching them, through a magnetic field. And this sound, which is based on the first 11 harmonic pitches, starting with a low A and going through 11 harmonics, will be transposed up 42 times, and then we are into the spectrum of light. So the colors you will see projected on the back of the stage are actually generated from the sound from the piano.”
When asked if the music at the festival, including Trimpin’s, is a bit way-out for the average ear, Amirkhanian explained Other Minds’ philosophy:
“There’s no way for people to find out about it except by going. One of the things that Other Minds tries to do is to find the music that speaks to people who don’t necessarily fixate on what’s the latest but want to enjoy themselves and hear something that’s a little bit more challenging and will expand their consciousness slightly. So we try not to do things that are so innovative that they make you deaf or they make you never want to go out of your house again — and there are people doing music like that. But we try to find the sweet spot where there’s innovation, intellectual capacity is challenged, and something beautiful results.”
So far this year the bicentenary of Bruckner’s birth has produced relatively few recordings to rival the canonical versions of the nine symphonies on disc. But Vladimir Jurowski’s performance of the Seventh Symphony, taken from a concert he conducted in the Berlin Philharmonie just three months ago, might just be that special. It has a natural flow, in which nothing is forced, and nothing over-manicured; there’s never any sense that Jurowski has any agenda other than to present the symphony as it is laid out in the score.
In a work that, by Bruckner standards, has a relatively uncomplicated history of versions, Jurowski opts for the 1944 Haas edition, though he does reinstate some of the percussion that Haas controversially omitted from the climax of the slow movement. He also has the benefit of the Berlin Radio Symphony Orchestra, which knows this 19th-century symphonic repertoire as well as any orchestra in the world; it may not have the lustrous reputation of the other great orchestras in the city, the Berlin Philharmonic and the Staatskapelle, but as this performance shows, it is still a very fine band, of international class.
In Bollywood, the most popular male vocalists are playback singers, chameleons whose voices can fit any actor or character on screen, and Arijit Singh is currently king: he is the most followed (though not most streamed) artist on Spotify, surpassing Taylor Swift last month with 120.5m followers. Those fans are drawn to Singh’s vocal malleability, and tonight – the closing date of a UK arena run – he duly intersperses Bollywood hits (such as Khwaja Mere Khwaja, Kun Faya Kun and Roobaroo) outside his core discography.
His vocals are decadently rich and buttery, but also rock solid. Performing meend, the gliding of one note to the next, each note topples like a domino; Teri Meri Kahani, Ae Dil Hai Mushkil and Janam Janam highlight the balance of delicate power that defines Singh’s voice. But despite his virtuosity, Singh isn’t self-indulgent. He sings for nearly four hours, delivering more than 40 songs without faltering, not even pausing while signing T-shirts on stage.
Singh has often spoken about feeling somewhat trapped within his genre; some previous shows have been more sombre and harked back to his Hindustani classical inspirations. This show, too, contains impressive sargam, or the singing of notes rather than words, as in the opening of Kesariya.
But he has said he considers UK audiences to be more receptive than most to musical experiments – and some, such as Bhekayali during which Tapas Roy performs an incredible mandolin solo, work fantastically tonight. Others, like the EDM-influenced Saware, work less well, but the crowd remains engaged – some headbanging, others nodding along.
Singh admits that he’s uncomfortable in the limelight, and his performance exudes humility, limiting himself to smiles, waves and hand hearts while singing. Once in a while, he wishes audience members a happy birthday, and it’s genuine and gentle.
With this in mind, the theatrics during some songs are out of place and forced, detracting from his essence as a musician. During Nashe Si Chadh Gayi, a pair of dancers perform a sort of striptease, ending in an embrace; it’s rare for a concert to draw an awkward silence, but this crowd, consisting almost entirely of middle-aged south Asians and their families, squirms in unison. At other times a massive LED screen with visuals akin to a Windows screensaver, is abrasively bright. Singh and many of his contemporaries’ songs contain deliberately simple instruments and lyrics to foreground their voices – so to distract like this is criminal.
But in an era where cheers are currency, a stunned silence is under-appreciated. The tender, stripped-back moments at this show, where the raucous crowd is quelled and rapt, have a rare power.
The chorus struck for three days last week, canceling the season opener. “An earlier proposal would [have] cut choristers’ compensation by 65% and reduced their programs to five per year.” Now there’s a compromise proposal, but will that be enough? – San Francisco Chronicle (MSN)
Les Boréades was the last of Rameau’stragédies lyriques. Though apparently it went into rehearsal in 1763, the year before the composer’s death, it does not seem to have been performed in his lifetime, and the premiere was a concert performance in Paris in 1770. But like so much French baroque opera, it was not until the. second half of the 20th century that the score of Les Boréades was heard again; it was eventually staged for the first time in Lyon in 1982, conducted by John Eliot Gardiner.
Gardiner also made the first recording, based upon the stage performances, but until this latest version, there appears to have been only one further CD version of Les Boréades, which appeared four years ago, though a couple of subsequent stagings are available on DVD.
The plot is rather thin and over-extended – Queen Abaris is in love with Alphise, but is required to marry one of the descendants of Boréas, the god of the north wind, until Apollo intervenes to ensure that everyone can live happily ever after – but the score has such colour and variety that the thinness of the drama hardly seems to matter.
In Les Boréades the solo airs and choruses are interlaced with danced divertissements, in which Rameau allows his aural imagination full rein, and its in those instrumental numbers that György Vashegyi’s performance with the Orfeo Orchestra really comes alive, with brilliant, sharp-focused playing and crisply articulated rhythms that are vividly captured in this recording. The performance has a real sense of authority – this is the sixth Rameau stage work that Vashegyi has recorded (the previous five were released on Glossa) and it’s a dramatic world that he now inhabits with total conviction, as do his singers, led by Sabine Devieilhe as Abaris and Reinoud Van Mechelen as Alphise. Even French baroque sceptics might be converted.
The Beatles broke up in 1970 but – as far as the film industry is concerned – they are more current than ever, with a flood of Beatles-related films in cinemas and on streaming platforms. The band’s final film Let It Be was restored and released on Disney+ in May; Midas Man, a biopic of their manager Brian Epstein is to be released in October; and One Hand Clapping, long-lost footage of Paul McCartney in the studio in the early 70s with Wings will get an airing in cinemas across the world starting next week. Oscar-winning director Morgan Neville is readying another McCartney documentary, Man on the Run, about his post-Beatles career. And on the horizon is Sam Mendes’ mammoth Beatles tetralogy – one film each for John Lennon, McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr – planned for release in 2027.
The reasoning behind Beatles-related films is not hard to discern. Music writer and broadcaster Peter Paphides says: “For me, it’s like the greatest story ever told. We all know the story now. We know what the narrative arc is. We know it has everything in it. We know it has friendship, love, incredible music. The whole human condition is just encased in the story of the Beatles.”
Paphides identifies the Anthology TV series and accompanying album release in the mid-90s as the point when interest in the Beatles began to mushroom. “All of a sudden, for younger people who might have been into the emerging British guitar music, they could be into them almost like they were a current band. At the same time, you had their parents’ generation who never stopped loving them.” The steady stream of documentaries and features that followed – from the Sam Taylor Wood-directed Lennon biopic Nowhere Boy in 2009, to Martin Scorsese’s George Harrison documentary Living in the Material World in 2011, to the Richard Curtis/Danny Boyle fantasia Yesterday in 2019 – underscored the strength of the band’s appeal to film audiences decades on. These build on the five feature films – A Hard Day’s Night, Help, Yellow Submarine, Magical Mystery Tour and Let It Be – along with the various promos, videos and tour documentaries that the Beatles made during their active existence to create a mammoth archive of Beatles and Beatles-adjacent moving-image product.
Paphides says that this endless stream of films is part of a strategy by Apple Corps, the corporate entity that controls Beatles-related business. “What I notice in the way Apple are doing things these days is there’s a real sort of consciousness that you just keep having to put new projects out there, new releases, new films. There always has to be something on the go which will sort of keep the Beatles name right up there.”
Get Back, Peter Jackson’s eight-hour restoration of the footage shot by Michael Lindsay-Hogg for the Let It Be sessions in 1969, is a case in point; in the run-up to Lindsay-Hogg’s original film’s 50th anniversary in 2020, Apple asked Jackson to examine the raw footage sitting in its archive, and a combination of the pandemic and the director’s enthusiasm for what he found turned the project into arguably the TV event of the year.
Such is the power of the Beatles brand that peripheral figures can claim a share of the attention; Paphides points out that “there are so many interesting characters in the Beatles story, and you can carve out little plots, little arcs, within the overall story, and really hone in on them”. Midas Man, a biopic of the band’s manager Brian Epstein, is the latest to emerge, and takes in Epstein’s journey from running the record department at his family store in Liverpool to becoming a entertainment-industry mogul with a string of stars under contract.
Midas Man is produced by Trevor Beattie, a renowned advertising executive, for whom the Epstein project has been years in the making. “I’m aware that this film is going to be viewed through a microscope because everything Beatles-related is. However much I say this is not a Beatles film, it’s about Brian, I know that people are still going to look at it through that microscope. And that’s OK, you have to accept that.”
A key point for any Beatles film is the band’s music, and Midas Man doesn’t have original Beatles recordings, or any Lennon-McCartney compositions; because of the story’s chronology, it can use the standards, such as Besame Mucho, that the band regularly played in the early part of their career. Beattie says they also benefited from the co-operation of the late Gerry Marsden (of Gerry and the Pacemakers) as well as Freda Kelly, Epstein’s secretary and president of the Beatles fan club (and who had her own documentary, Good Ol’ Freda, in 2013). “Unlike Brian’s family, she’s very much still with us, and she really enabled us to get it right.”
The question of accuracy, and whether it is ever possible in the swirl of myth and counter-myth in the Beatles story, crops up time and again. For Beattie, the myth-making goes right back to the start of their film career, to their 1964 picture A Hard Day’s Night. “The most important thing that Hard Day’s Night did was to create four caricatures of the Beatles – and guess what, those caricatures stuck for the rest of their lives.” Paphides agrees: “Maybe in the long term that’s kind of all that matters. Everyone is doomed or sort of fated to become a fictional character of one kind or another, they start off real and then over the years become fictionalised versions of themselves.”
But whether it’s Let It Be, One Hand Clapping or Midas Man, in the end it all comes down to the music. Beattie says: “In the 1960s, it was kids screaming over the songs. And here we are, half a century later, studying them like Bach or Shakespeare. But they are still the same songs.”
PARIS (AP) — Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris is getting its bells back, just in time for the medieval landmark’s reopening following a devastating 2019 fire.
A convoy of trucks bearing eight restored bells — the heaviest of which weighs more than 4 tons — pulled into the huge worksite surrounding the monument Thursday on an island in the Seine River.
They are being blessed in a special ceremony inside the cathedral before being hoisted to hang in its twin towers for the Dec. 8 reopening to the public.
Cathedral Rector Olivier Ribadeau Dumas, wearing a hardhat as he prepared to enter the cathedral and bless the bells, called them ‘’a sign that the cathedral will again resonate, and that its voice will be heard again. A sign of the call to prayer, and a sign of coming together.”
The bells will be raised one by one and tested out, but they won’t ring in full until the day of the reopening, said Philippe Jost, overseeing the massive Notre Dame reconstruction project. He called the bells’ arrival ‘’a very beautiful symbol of the cathedral’s rebirth.’'
While construction on the cathedral started in the 12th century, the bronze bells damaged in the fire are from the 21st century. They were built according to historical tradition to replace older bells that had become discordant, to mark the monument’s 850th anniversary.
If anyone wanted to know what it was like to blow your mind with a piece of music, they could do worse than listen to the closing movement of Gustav Mahler’s Eighth Symphony – and its great chorus of human voices proclaiming that the Eternal Feminine will lead us on upwards. The closing passage of Goethe’s Faust.
In Mahler’s own words: “Try to imagine the whole universe beginning to ring and resound. There are no longer human voices, but planets and suns revolving.” It was his “gift to the nation … a great joy-bringer”.
Mahler was a Catholic. Goethe was a sort of pagan, but a distinctly Protestant pagan. His drama led up to an explosion of emotion as the 100-year-old Faust, after decades of being in league with the Devil, is nonetheless redeemed by a heavenly choir of women, including the teenager he seduced and ruined in the first part of the play. Since most of the women in the choir are Catholic saints, it seems fair that Mahler should have made his chorus an unashamedly Catholic affair.
The Eighth Symphony premiered in Munich on 12 September 1910, some 80 years after the second part of Goethe’s great work was published. This extraordinary explosion of emotion and sound was by no means the only musical response to the greatest work of German literature.
Goethe spent more than 60 years writing his masterpiece. He began when he was a student in Strasbourg, and he was only able to finish it after his 81st birthday. What started as a reconstruction of the old Faust legend – the Renaissance man who, in exchange for knowledge and youth sold his soul to the Devil – developed into something very different. This was partly because Goethe introduced an entirely new element into the legend – Faust’s seduction of the teenager Gretchen, her unwanted pregnancy, the murder of her child, and her redemption. German law was especially strict in its treatment of women who either aborted their babies or killed them after birth. Gretchen’s pathetic case was an extreme example of a “sin” which might be thought to be beyond redemption. The Devil, at the end of Faust Part One, thinks he can take her soul too but he is frustrated at the very last minute. She calls on God to redeem her, and he does.
But some of us first became aware of the musical legacy of Faust as children. In the Tintin story Les Bijoux de La Castafiore (The Castafiore Emerald) the opera diva Bianca Castafiore loves singing the Jewel Song from Charles Gounod’s opera based on Faust Part One – in which the amazed teenage girl finds the cupboard in her little bedroom garret stuffed with priceless jewels – implanted by the Devil’s magic to seduce her.
Gounod’s 1859 opera is the most accessible operatic version of the Faust story and, perhaps for the very reason, that is the one that seems furthest from Goethe’s original conception. Gounod’s librettist, Jules Barbier, excised all Faust’s metaphysical angst, and made Marguerite, as Gretchen became, a soprano’s dream role, with some absolutely stunning solos, including the famous Jewel Song. Seduction, pregnancy, multiple murders, howling sorrow follows – what is there not to like, when set to lilting bel canto music?
It’s marvellous stuff, but a long way from Goethe. In Gounod, Faust is little more than a strutting cad, whereas in Goethe he personifies complicated modern humanity, searching for scientific truth and for an understanding of the universe, but aware of his own divided nature and his need for his Devil companion. In Gounod, the story becomes a simple Catholic tale of a bad man getting his comeuppance and being sent to hell, like Don Giovanni in Mozart’s opera, while his wronged girl is saved by the angels.
The bombast of Berlioz’s 1845 Damnation of Faust is magnificent in its depiction of a human soul cascading towards perdition, but it also lacks any of the ambiguity of Goethe – who anticipated one of his keenest readers, Nietzsche, in realising that human beings reach a point in crisis where they are “beyond good and evil”. That’s a challenge which readers can mull over in their armchairs, perhaps, more easily than audiences can take in at a night at the opera.
Goethe’s Faust does not sell his soul to the Devil. He has a bet that the Devil can only possess him if he has tried to make time stand still, or has failed (to use William Blake’s phrase) to kiss the joy as it flies. By the time the story is done, and Faust is 100 years old, he has sort-of experienced not only the long 18th century – with its revolutions in science and politics, but the times which followed. He has foreseen the Industrial Revolution, the wreckage of the planet, and the green movement; he has foreseen the end of Christianity, but reworked its images – a fact which was not lost on Richard Wagner, whose giants in the Ring of the Nibelungs are really the industrial technocrats who will destroy the natural order with their smoke and chimneys, and whose Rhine Maidens, raw nature, will reclaim their world when humanity has done its worst. Nature will win – not us.
Seventy years before Charles Darwin, Goethe expounded a theory of evolution. What interested him as a scientist was not so much the mechanics of it – how we evolve – as the fact that impersonal nature could create the life-forms which eventually evolve in human consciousness.
Goethe described his great drama as “incommensurable” and to my mind the greatest musical expositions of Faust are the all-but incommensurable works of Franz Liszt, both in his Faust Symphony in three character pictures, and, most deeply and mysteriously, in the B-Minor Piano Sonata.
It was, in fact, Berlioz who turned Liszt’s attention to Faust as a suitable subject for composition, and it was the Hungarian composer who most fully understood the mind of Goethe, and the point of Faust. Liszt, like most thinking people in Europe in the decades after Goethe’s death in 1832, had been reading Faust. It is the book which defines the 19th century, because it is about intellectual and technological progress against spiritual loss; it is about love, damaged by men exploiting and damaging women; it is about how to have a new Europe, post Napoleon. It is about doubt and living with doubt, the archetypal 19th-century emotional theme. Liszt understood this all utterly.
His symphony depicts the three central characters of the drama – Faust himself, Gretchen and Mephistopheles. But I believe it is the B-Minor Piano Sonata which contains the greatest commentary on Faust.
Some have seen this as Liszt’s self-portrait; there is probably some truth in this. Liszt, like Faust, like Goethe, and like us – that is the point – is a divided soul. Mephistopheles is not the demon of medieval legend waiting to stick a pitchfork up our backsides. He is the darker, and more cynical, and more carnal side of our own nature. In one of the most unforgettable monologues of Goethe’s play, Faust realises that humanity is not just the observer of nature; we are part of nature. We are not like Kant’s so-reasonable Enlightenment Human looking on appearances. We are part of what we behold. We see, not only nature, but into our own psyche. (Not for nothing were Freud and Jung ardent Goetheans).
In the last year or so of a long endeavour – writing a book about Goethe and his Faustian Life – I played the Liszt B-Minor Sonata (interpreted by Stephen Hough, for me the greatest player of Liszt today) over and over again. Every time I hear the work it says something – infinitely poignant, exciting, heart-wrenching – which could not be said in words. That – so mysteriously – is also what happens every time you read Faust; since, as the aged Goethe reminded Eckermann (who noted down his immortal conversations) we walk in mysteries.
Sweaty, unhinged and with one of them frequently naked, few underground rock bands remain as revered as the Jesus Lizard. The US band’s early 90s albums Goat and Liar inspired awe in American alt-rock royalty such as Kurt Cobain, Steve Albini and Henry Rollins, and the band’s live sets cemented their status: guitarist Duane Denison, bassist David Wm Sims and drummer Mac McNeilly locked into near-ritualistic rock’n’roll while frontman David Yow, his genitals flapping, careened into the audience, surfacing like a pink dolphin fighting against a net of hairy arms and plaid shirts.
Hatched in Texas before relocating to Chicago, the band’s initial run lasted from 1987 to 1999. Since 2008 they have periodically reconvened for live “re-enactments” (Yow’s term), but their new album, Rack, is their first fresh music in 26 years: a tense, teeth-bared sewer rat of a record. “We had to be brutal and blunt with our assessment every step of the way so nothing came off flat or dull,” says Denison – dapper, charming, occasionally distracted by the whims of his cat – from his Nashville home. “I checked out other people’s old-guy reunion albums and made mental notes about what was good and what wasn’t. One thing I noticed is that they seem overly mature: really trying to show how wise they are and how they’ve grown. But that’s not fun. We want mindless mayhem along with an element of sophistication – that was always our thing.”
Indeed, the band have long combined the primal, horny honk of Led Zeppelin with elements of post-punk and minimalist composition; on those 90s classics Yow is utterly uninhibited, delivering caterwauled character studies and the breathy obscenities of a late-night crank caller. “To me, David’s voice was almost like a free jazz saxophone,” says Denison. “There was always the dichotomy between being this very organised working unit and the more free-range kind of thing.”
Like the band itself, Yow’s lyrics were weird, threatening and darkly comedic. Some, such as those featuring amputees or glum pygmies, were pure flights of fantasy, while others immortalised real-life figures such as a scumbag landlord or the drug-addled festivalgoer who once stole Sims’ clothes. The band’s gigs were equally unpredictable, with a naked Yow delivering parlour tricks involving his scrotum before vanishing into the crowd for multiple songs at a time.
“I love it when things get out of hand,” Yow admits. Speaking from his home in LA – his day job is retouching movie posters, with a sideline acting in films by the likes of Macon Blair and David Robert Mitchell – he’s almost the antithesis of his stage persona: quiet, thoughtful and drily, subtly funny. “I like the chaos and the confrontation, but it’s not testosterone-driven and it’s not malevolent,” he says. “It’s just fun to get right in people’s faces.”
His bandmates would try to keep out of his orbit and ensure the mayhem was somewhat contained. “He’d get hurt so often that our rule was we’d finish the song before we checked up on him,” says Denison. “More often than not he’d get up when we’d pour beer on him, though a couple times he didn’t.” Yow is matter-of-fact about the injuries he sustained, no matter how grievous. “I’ve been hospitalised several times,” he says. “I think the worst time was in Zurich. I jumped into the audience and they just sort of parted, so I hit the cement floor. They picked me up and dumped me back on stage and I was like a rag-doll – I’ve seen the video and it nearly made me puke.David Sims said he only quit playing when he noticed that my eyes were open but I wasn’t moving and that the puddle of blood under my head was getting bigger.”
We are talking the day before the singer’s 64th birthday, and while he is well aware of the toll the years have taken – he’s been working with a personal trainer to build strength and endurance in advance of the gigs the band have booked – he maintains that being part of the crowd is still part of the show. “It’s fun and I think it’s relatively entertaining,” he says wryly. “And, especially now that I’m pretty fucking old, supporting my own weight after a few songs gets difficult. If I jump out there I get to lay around.”
This knack for goading a reaction out of the audience predates the Jesus Lizard. “He was always theatrical in a weird way,” Denison says of seeing Yow perform in pre-Jesus Lizard act Scratch Acid. “Even when he wasn’t playing, he’d crash people’s gigs. Like when he went on stage with Butthole Surfers dressed as a redneck and broke a fake bottle over their singer’s head. It looked so real that people in the audience attacked him – someone broke his nose.”
Despite the bloodshed, insanity and temptations of life on the road, the Jesus Lizard were otherwise surprisingly sensible. They lived, toured and recorded frugally, the four of them sharing a three-bedroom house, driving their own tour buses and sleeping top-to-toe in cheap motels or on people’s floors. “I don’t think we ever lost money on tour,” says Denison. “Early on we never really made money, but we didn’t go broke. One year, I think 1990, my net income was $800. What did I live on?! If you look at photos from those days I just look skinny and insane.”
This self-sustaining lifestyle bonded the band like family, and beyond their DIY decision-making they also fostered relationships with people who could help them navigate the industry: entertainment attorney Elizabeth Gregory ensured the band were paid not to write a third album to see out their contract with Capitol Records.
For a band so legendarily unpredictable, the Jesus Lizard’s 1999 demise came with a whimper rather than a bang. “We just kind of fizzled out,” says Denison. “There was no feud, no fighting, no unresolved conflicts or legal problems. We just kind of said, ‘OK, it’s been a good run’ and shook hands.” But from Yow’s perspective, the wheels began to fall off as early as 1996 when drummer McNeilly left the band to spend more time with his family. McNeilly’s replacement, Jim Kimball, proved less than ideal. “I hate his guts,” says Yow bluntly. “He’ssuch a dipshit. The time we spent with him as a hired hand was drudgery. It was like a job.”
Post-Lizard, members immersed themselves in family life, worked as accountants and librarians, embarked on solo projects and collaborated with everyone from Mike Patton (Faith No More), Flipper and Hank Williams III. Denison played on Jack White’s Fear of the Dawn LP and alongside the likes of Ronnie Wood on Beverley Knight’s album Music City Soul. Yow had been hesitant to embark on the “re-enactments” that began in 2008: “When we got back together and toured, I loved every minute of it,” he says. “But I don’t think that I’d missed it … to me it seemed like fucking an old girlfriend”.
Concerted efforts were required to woo him back to record the new material that the band had been surreptitiously working on without him. “He was apprehensive about it,” says Denison. “So the rest of us said: ‘Let’s start working on stuff. Once the train starts to leave the station he’ll want to get on board.’ And that’s exactly how it worked out.”
While Yow seems laissez-faire about the band’s legacy or the role music plays in his life (“I love doing it, but it’s just not necessary for me the way it is for them – I wish I paid my bills through acting”), he is visibly excited when talking about new tracks such as Hide & Seek or Armistice Day: he describes the former as his favourite thing that Denison has ever done while raving about how “over-the-top” McNeilly’s drumming is on Grind.
Indeed, both men seem giddily energised by the music they are about to unleash. “It was definitely not like the old days,” says Denison of making new music together after so long. “But it seems like as soon as we start playing, things just happen – you find the parts fitting together. Obviously we’re older, wiser and more experienced, but in some ways I think we’re sounding better than before. Probably because we’re not getting wasted as much.”
“Fortune is like a bird in a wood. If we know how to whistle to her she will come to us.” —from pianist Ashley Wass’s biography on X, unattributed
I: The Amateur
About two years ago, a renowned European musician received a call from his agency with an offer for an unusual gig. A Dubai concert promoter named Classical Music Development Initiative (CMDI) wanted to pay him a fee on par with what he earns performing concertos with top orchestras, plus business class flights and a four-night stay in a five-star hotel, to perform a work for soloist and orchestra by a composer the musician had never heard of. The composer was named Alexey Shor.
The piece was a rudimentary tonal work, and it reminded the performer of the classical music one might hear in a dentist’s waiting room: a toothless pastiche of Beethoven, Brahms, and Grieg.
The musician, who requested anonymity for fear of professional repercussions, had no artistic interest in this composition. But like many freelance musicians at the time, he was still feeling the financial anxiety of the pandemic closures. Despite his reservations, he took the gig.
Many aspects of the concert felt slapdash. “It was clear that the focus wasn’t on putting on an excellent concert,” he said. Looking back, he felt ambivalent about the experience. On the one hand, he worried about compromising his artistic principles, and said that if he hadn’t been available for the Shor concert, he “wouldn’t have spent a second regretting it.” Still, he had seen online that many famous musicians, including Steven Isserlis, Maxim Vengerov, Ray Chen, Denis Kozhukhin, Gautier Capuçon, Mikhail Pletnev, Daniel Lozakovich, James Ehnes, Behzod Abduraimov, Evgeny Kissin, and more, were not just performing the composer’s music, but praising it enthusiastically.
“If the saints allow themselves to be bought,” he thought to himself, “then so can I.”
The composer had seemingly appeared from nowhere. Now he was engaging the world’s best soloists to perform his music—compositions that some musicians and critics found amateurish at best and soulless at worst.
So who was Alexey Shor?
Articles online gave a basic outline of Shor’s biography. He was born in 1970 in Belaya Tserkov outside Kyiv, Ukraine, which was then part of the Soviet Union. A mathematician with a doctorate from Pennsylvania State University, he had studied at Moscow State University before moving to Israel in 1991, immediately followed by the United States. He began composing as an adult.
But that was the barest sketch of the story. In an investigation for the Times of Malta, the journalist Jacob Borg learned that Shor’s real name was Alexey Vladimorovitch Kononenko. (VAN confirmed this independently.) Kononenko wasn’t just a mathematician—he was a brilliant mathematician. And he was spectacularly wealthy.
After receiving his doctorate, Kononenko initially pursued a career in academia. Between 1996 and 1998, he was a postdoc at the University of Pennsylvania. But afterward, as Gregory Zuckerman outlines in his book The Man Who Solved the Market: How Jim Simons Launched the Quant Revolution, Kononenko wanted a tenure track offer from Princeton, Harvard or the University of Chicago. “He had achieved an awful lot, but he could have had more perspective and patience,” an academic peer told Zuckerman. Kononenko changed tack, and in 1999, he was hired as a quantitative researcher at Renaissance Technologies, or RenTech, the Long Island hedge fund founded by the mathematician Jim Simons in 1982. The firm filled its ranks with mathematicians and scientists, and used data modeling and analysis, rather than hustle and intuition, to guide its trades. Among hedge funds, its reputation is closer to that of a high-end research institute than a typical profit vehicle.
“Simons created the greatest moneymaking machine in financial history,” Zuckerman writes. By 2019, the fund’s flagship fund Medallion, the most profitable fund in the organization—that only allows company employees to invest—had accrued over $100 billion in trading gains. Dubbed “the blackest box in all of finance” by Bloomberg in 2016, Medallion has long courted mystery—employees sign stringent NDAs—especially as its performance has seemed impervious to international trends. As other funds faltered during the financial crash of 2008, the Medallion fund soared 82%. Two years later, while competitors were recovering slowly, Medallion was managing $10 billion of investment, with returns hitting 65%.
And as RenTech got rich, so too did its employees. In 2008 alone, Simons made personal profits of over $2 billion. Kononenko was also rising in seniority through the company, and, in 2003, he became co-head of the fund’s equities research group. He stayed with RenTech until 2016, when he could reflect on his role in one of the most remarkable runs in financial history.
Publicly available New York property records give some idea of the wealth Kononenko accrued while at RenTech. Initially buying under his own name, before operating through a company named Sento Gosho LLC—a Japanese theme found in other Kononenko-linked companies like Taiko Asset Management LLC and Yoshiwara Properties—in 2008 and 2010, Kononenko bought two condos on the 44th floor of 151 East 58th Street in New York for a combined total of over $30 million, alongside another downtown Manhattan condo purchased for $2 million in 2009. In 2017, a fellow owner of a condo on the 44th floor sold up. This turned out to be Beyoncé Knowles.
Asked why he was calling himself Shor, Kononenko told the Times of Malta, “My actual last name is quite a mouthful. It’s much easier to say and remember Shor as opposed to Kononenko.”
So far, Kononenko’s story was an archetypal American one. Despite a modest upbringing, he had parlayed his intelligence into a high-level position with one of the world’s most prestigious private financial institutions—and he was making a killing. He also listened to classical music avidly.
In 2010, he began composing. But composing has an extraordinarily high barrier to entry. It requires detailed knowledge of music theory, instrumental technique, score reading, and the repertoire. Starting out in his early 40s, Kononenko was the same age as many trained composers are when they write their first mature works.
There was a lot of ground to cover. “I didn’t play any instruments as a kid, as I was very busy with math and science,” Kononenko told VAN. “I did attend concerts and listened to music whenever I had a free moment, but I never played an instrument. Now, I can play the piano a little, but not very well.” He decided to focus on composition.
In 2012, Kononenko celebrated the first public performances of his works under the name Alexey Shor. He described his entry into the classical music scene to Classical Explorer: David Aaron Carpenter, an American violist who is the founder and artistic director of the Salomé Chamber Orchestra, and who runs Carpenter Fine Violins and Collectibles with his siblings, discovered Shor’s scores lying around his apartment. Carpenter played through them, asking Shor, “This is really good music, who wrote it?”
In an email, Carpenter described Shor as “a visionary composer who has tirelessly advocated for the viola’s solo potential,” adding that the audience’s reaction to the premiere of Shor’s debut composition “Murka from Odessa: Symphonic Adventure,” a collaboration with the Israeli composer and arranger Oran Eldor, was “nothing short of breathtaking.”
Though some musicians who have spoken to VAN have expressed skepticism, Shor’s music has found many admirers, especially among professional musicians. “In the midst of the world of conflict and destruction that we find ourselves in,” the Swedish violinist Daniel Lozakovich has written, “the music of Alexey Shor is a source of light.” Steven Isserlis told The Strad that Shor’s “Musical Pilgrimage” for cello and orchestra, which he performed in 2022, is “a very warm-hearted work and I like challenges.” Guy Braunstein, the former concertmaster of the Berlin Philharmonic, played Shor’s “Flight of the Falcon” in 2018. He told VAN that Shor’s music reminded him of Stravinsky and Arvo Pärt’s approaches to reexamining the tradition. “It’s on the surface very simplistic, but there are of course many twists,” he said. “Alexey has found his own direction. The basis of the harmonic language is very simple and very old, but of course he made it his own.”
When Shor has been reviewed by independent critics, he’s found less admiration. Geoff Brown, writing for the Times of London in 2020, described Shor’s works as “cloying banalities”: “would-be melodious 19th-century pastiches lacking all guts and spine.” In a review for New York Classical Review of Shor’s “Travel Notebook” for piano and orchestra, VAN contributor George Grella used a similar phrase, saying the piece included “the most obvious banalities of sentiment and place.”
“The rhythmic and melodic flavors for Barcelona, Rome, et al were all ersatz,” Grella continued. “Occasionally the music showed a flash of personality, but in the main it was without a distinctive style and anonymous.”
Some of Shor’s pieces, like “Musical Pilgrimage” or “Flight of the Falcon,” are harmonically simple (containing, for long stretches, no chord more complex than a dominant seventh); rhythmically corseted, hewing closely the beat and to clichéd patterns; and orchestrated in a blunt, blocky manner. Other pieces, like “Carpe Diem” for violin and orchestra or “Travel Notebook,” may be better constructed, but lack compositional development and dramaturgy.
What makes a Shor work identifiable? According to some musicians, it is the mismatch between the rudimentary craftsmanship of the compositions and the skill with which those same compositions have been performed.
Andrew Trovato, an American composer who uses elements of tonality in his works, said that “the high level of playing masks the compositional faults” in Shor’s music, adding that the musical resources available to Shor are ones that most composers can only dream of. The pieces put together a series of pretty individual moments that together “lack a fluid train of thought and development,” Trovato said. Multiple musicians pointed out that Shor’s work reminds them of music composed by artificial intelligence.
As a composer, sources described Shor as perhaps musically naive, but honorable and generous. That characterization was markedly different from his reputation at RenTech, where he was considered brilliant yet combative. In musical circles, he was humble—at least before his career took off.
Classical music could not exist without the patronage of the wealthy, and, like Kononenko, those patrons were often active participants in music-making. Frederick II the Great, King of Prussia, offered the flute virtuoso Johann Joachim Quantz an 800% salary increase from his existing position at Dresden if he taught him at court; the monarch composed 121 of his own solo sonatas, as well as concertos and other pieces for the instrument. Paul Sacher was a modestly successful conductor before he married into the F. Hoffmann-La Roche pharmaceuticals fortune; after taking a seat on the conglomerate’s board of directors, he spent lavishly on new music commissions, opened an archive for musical manuscripts in Basel, and continued to conduct. Recently, the composer Gordon Getty and his wife Ann sold some $200 million worth of art in order to donate money to the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, the San Francisco Opera, the San Francisco Symphony, and other institutions. Getty’s works have been conducted by Kent Nagano, among many other leading artists.
Unlike these men, Kononenko made his own fortune. But besides that crucial difference, at the beginning of his musical career he seemed to fit easily into the archetype of the gentleman composer: a wealthy man with modest talent and a passionate love for music. That is, until he encountered Konstantin Ishkhanov, a businessman and philanthropist with numerous apparent links to the Russian state.
II: The Island
In March 2013, Joseph Muscat, leader of Malta’s center-left Labour Party, returned his party to power after 15 years in opposition. But his tenure did little to ease the corruption that afflicts the country. In 2017, the fearsome investigative journalist Daphne Caruana Galizia was killed there. When judges eventually concluded an inquiry into her death in 2021, they described Malta “moving towards a situation which could be qualified as a mafia state.”
In September 2013, Muscat introduced the Citizenship by Investment in Malta Program, commonly referred to as the “Golden Passport” scheme, allowing wealthy people from around the world to acquire citizenship for large sums of money, but with few other strings attached. (A month later, Muscat introduced legislation requiring “Golden Passport” applicants to buy or lease property on the island, leading to a boom time for estate agents and property developers.) Malta, already a haven for financial services, was now a gateway to residency in any of the European Union’s 27 member states. The Times of Maltareported that over half of applications in the scheme’s first year came from Russian nationals. The scheme was closed to Russians following the full-scale invasion of Ukraine, in the spring of 2022, but not before the two countries had become inextricably linked: financially, diplomatically, and culturally.
One of the beneficiaries of the passport scheme was Kononenko. Already a citizen of Israel, the United States, and the Caribbean nation of Saint Kitts and Nevis, he decided to apply for Maltese citizenship too. (“While United States citizenship is considered a gold standard, it is not always safe to travel and remain as an American in many parts of the world, particularly as an American Jew,” he explained to the Times of Malta. “Similarly, Israeli citizenship presents its own set of challenges in many parts of the world.”)
According to documents revealed by the Passport Papers leak, Kononenko began his application for Maltese citizenship in 2014, quickly organizing a long-term property lease, a Maltese bank account, and the requisite substantial payments. His application documents state a special interest in establishing musical ties to Malta. “One of my main hobbies is music, specifically composition, and I look forward to attending the music festivals in Malta,” he wrote, citing the Malta Philharmonic Orchestra as an organization he would seek to join. (Kononenko declined to comment on the process of acquiring Maltese citizenship.)
“Would it be helpful for a successful citizenship application if Alexey arranged for his compositions to be played by musicians at a Malta music festival?” asked an employee of Henley & Partners, the law firm that handled all Golden Passport applications.
It would be. But somebody would need to arrange for those performances of Shor’s compositions. That person was Konstantin Ishkhanov.
Like Kononenko, Ishkhanov arrived late to the cultural sphere. Also like Kononenko, mostoftheinformation available online about Ishkhanov is light on biographical detail. Musicians who interacted with Ishkhanov told VAN that he didn’t discuss his past with them. But at the same time Kononenko was trying his hand at composition, Ishkhanov was finding a path for himself as a cultural philanthropist. Bald, tanned, and solidly built, a photo that accompanies several early articles about him shows Ishkhanov at a large wooden desk, wearing a blue suit and looking like a titan of industry.
According to a PowerPoint presentation created to promote his philanthropic work, Ishkhanov had been interested in classical music “since childhood, when musicians and artists would frequent the family home due to his mother’s piano performances and other artistic activities.” Meanwhile, his career was in oil engineering. Born in Baku in 1970—the same year as Kononenko—Ishkhanov entered the Azerbaijan Institute of Oil and Chemistry in 1987, after leaving secondary school. He moved to Moscow’s Gubkin Institute of Oil and Gas in 1993, where he specialized in “information-measuring and computing equipment.” (The Armenian investigative outlet Hetq reported that Ishkhanov also studied at the Moscow State Institute of International Relations.)
Having qualified as an engineer, Ishkhanov spent 14 years in the Russian oil and gas sector, as a director at RANKO (Russian-American Oil and Gas Company) and later as a leader of the Electroservice and Promtehelektro groups of companies.
In 2007, Ishkhanov moved to Malta. From this European base, he founded several cultural organizations with similar names. Those included the for-profit European Centre for Culture & Arts GmbH (ECCA), which was based in Cologne and presented concerts around Germany and emphasized Russian music performed by Russian artists. At the time, the firm put on events with Russisches Haus, a cultural outreach organization that public prosecutors in Berlin are currently investigating for alleged links to Rossotrudnichestvo, the cultural outreach department of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
“Rossotrudnichestvo is not like the British Council,” Christopher Steele, a British intelligence officer, Russia expert, and director of Orbis Business Intelligence, told VAN. “It’s a state actor with a track record of influence operations.” The organization is currently led by Yevgeny Primakov Jr., grandson of Yevgeny Primakov, who served as Russian Foreign Minister and Prime Minister, and was director of the Foreign Intelligence Service (SVR) from 1991 to 1996. (Rossotrudnichestvo is suspected of links to Russian intelligence and has been on the European Union sanctions list since July 2022. )
According to earlier versions of the website, ECCA GmbH received funding from the “government of Moscow, the Russian General Consulate,” and other, unnamed “European organizations.” (The website is now offline.) Other Ishkhanov-linked companies in Germany include the non-profit Europäischer Kulturförderverein (Club for the Support of European Culture) in Gräfelfing, founded in 2019 by Ishkhanov, his wife Tatyana Ishkhanova, and Regina Goldfarb. Goldfarb, who helps Ishkhanov organize concerts, is named in public records as the manager of another defunct four-letter, for-profit company: the Russian-German Culture Club UG (RGCC), also based in Cologne. It is not clear what activities the latter two companies organized. Reached by phone, Goldfarb declined to comment.
In Malta, Ishkhanov was the head of the Maltese-Russian Friendship Foundation (MRFF), which published the Maltese Herald, a newsletter written in Russian and English. But Ishkhanov’s first cultural project to truly take off was the European Foundation for Support of Culture (EUFSC), a non-profit foundation that was registered in Malta in February 2015. The foundation presented a wider range of events than ECCA, but still emphasized Russian music and Russian artists, and was registered to the same address as the Maltese chapter of the Russian Cultural Centre in Valletta.
Following the full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine, references to EUFSC’s links to the Russian government were scrubbed: In January 2022, the “About” section of the EUFSC’s website mentioned the Embassy of the Russian Federation, but by October of that year, that mention was missing.
All governments use culture to promote their political interests; in the 20th century, the Central Intelligence Agency famously supported modern American artists as part of its effort to “propagate the virtues of Western democratic culture.” In Vladimir Putin’s Russia, classical music has served as a potent tool of influence, though a more subtle one than troll farms, election inference, and disinformation.
In 2014, Putin signed a decree encouraging the use of music to strategically “encourage a positive image of Russia on the international level,” the musicologist Friedrich Geiger writes. At the same time, the Russian government warned against art opposed to “traditional values.” “No experiments with form can justify the substance that contradicts the values traditional for our society,” a Ministry of Culture statement from the time said. (Like many other musicians working today, Kononenko appears to compose tonal music out of a genuine preference for that style. “Generally, I don’t closely follow contemporary music,” he told VAN. “Occasionally, I come across something that piques my interest, but I usually attend concerts and listen at home to more traditional classical music.”)
The Russian regime has employed classical music performances to represent moral superiority over enemies such as the Islamic State and to emotionally equate the invasion of Ukraine with the nation’s heroic efforts against Nazi Germany in World War II. It sees itself in a civilizational struggle with the West, and culture as an important weapon in that struggle. To that end, the Russian government has lavished funding and opportunities on classical music figures at home and abroad in an apparent attempt to secure loyal, long-term advocates for its worldview.
One such figure is the German culture manager Hans-Joachim Frey. Frey had a high profile career in central Europe, serving as director of operations and director of opera at the Semperoper in Dresden (where, as director of the SemperOpernBall, he bestowed a medal on Putin), managing director of the Theater Bremen, and artistic director of the the Brucknerhaus in Linz, Austria. In these roles, Frey featured some ferociously pro-government Russian artists, including Sergei Roldugin, the cellist alleged to be helping Putin disguise his personal fortune. According to Frey, Roldugin’s St. Petersburg Music House paid fees and travel costs for musicians such as Miroslav Kultyshev and Philipp Kopachevsky to perform in Linz. (Both have also performed Shor’s music.)
A composition by Shor was also heard at an event put on by Roldugin’s foundation: the piano suite “Childhood Memories” was featured at a 2019 recital given by pianist Alexei Kuznetsov at Kyrgyz National Conservatory in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, titled “Embassy of Musical Mastery.” The concert was organized by St. Petersburg Music House “in cooperation with Rossotrudnichestvo.” ([I] don’t know anything about the concert you are mentioning,” Kononenko told VAN.)
In September 2019, Frey, meanwhile the artistic director of the Sirius Talent and Success Educational Foundation in Sochi, was photographed at a ball with Aleksandra Mitiureva, an elegant woman who works with Ishkhanov. According to LinkedIn, Mitiureva was employed by the European Foundation for Support of Culture’s international department in Malta, and later at the Dubai concert promoter Classical Music Development Initiative.
“I have never been a Russian citizen… have never received any payments from any Russian sources; and don’t know any Russian diplomats or officials,” Kononenko said. “(Of course, it’s possible I met some in passing somewhere).”
“I refrain from making political comments, as I believe music is the only topic on which it makes sense for anyone to care about my views,” Kononenko told VAN. “Privately, however, I detest Russian aggression, pray for Ukraine, and try to help my Ukrainian friends whenever I can. One fact that made it into open sources is that I helped the Kyiv Virtuosi orchestra escape the war and to live in Italy for two years.”
Following a detailed request for comment, VAN received an email from Kononenko’s German lawyer, Prof. Dr. Christian Schertz, saying that this request for comment contained false allegations; that it is not Kononenko’s task to refute those allegations; and that publishing the unspecified false allegations would lead him to take legal action against VAN using all the means at his disposal. Ishkhanov and Mitiureva did not respond to repeated requests for comment.
Several musicians and classical music industry figures contacted by VAN for this story said they suspected that Ishkhanov and his organizations—though not Kononenko—had links to the Russian government or private Russian wealth during their work with his organizations, but that politics didn’t come up at all during that work. Some told VAN that despite doubts about the source of the funding, they were happy to accept it, as long as it was being spent on classical music.
Kononenko and Ishkhanov began appearing together in 2015, when Kononenko sponsored a series of concerts in Malta that included his music. After that, Ishkhanov’s philanthropic activities began heavily emphasizing Shor’s compositions in their programming. In fact, Shor’s works often seemed to be the only unifying factor in EUFSC activities, which featured concerts covering everything from Rachmaninoff, Tchaikovsky and Chopin programs to an event celebrating the 330th anniversary of the balalaika. And much more: Between 2014 and 2023, the foundation put on some 144 events in Malta, the United Kingdom, Germany, Austria, Italy, Armenia, the United States, and Russia, from one-off concerts to festivals, competitions, masterclasses, galas, and an ice show. Nearly every one of these events included at least one work by Alexey Shor. A highlight of these activities was the September 2018 premiere of Shor’s “ballet with operatic elements,” titled “Crystal Palace,” at the Great Hall of the State Kremlin Palace.
“Having your internationally renowned compositions at the concerts was a great privilege,” Ishkhanov and Alan Chircop, artistic director of the Malta International Music Festival, told Kononenko in an email following two concerts Kononenko sponsored in Malta in 2015. “Your financial support and personal involvement helped make these concerts a resounding success… We trust that with your active support and involvement, the music life and culture in Malta will be truly enriched.” (The email was included in Kononenko’s citizenship application, which was part of the Passport Papers leak.)
At one concert in Malta, Kononenko was named as sponsor and A. Shor as composer. They were, of course, the same person.
Ishkhanov also showed that, apparently by deploying Kononenko’s fortune, he could bring the former mathematician’s compositions to the world’s great concert halls, performed by some of the best instrumentalists alive. Today, the name Alexey Shor has graced programs at Berlin’s Philharmonie, the Barbican Centre, Carnegie Hall, the Concertgebouw and Wigmore Hall, and has been performed by many of the world’s best soloists.
It’s unclear whether these musicians’ motives have been aesthetic, mercenary, or both. Isserlis, Vengerov, Chen, Kozukhin, Capuçon, Pletnev, Lozakovich, Ehnes, Abduraimov, and Kissin declined to discuss Shor’s music when contacted by VAN. “I know people who earned a one bedroom apartment,” said a performer, “or even a two bedroom apartment, just on Shor’s music.”
As Shor’s status rose, the purported arrogant streak familiar from his days at RenTech began emerging in a musical context. He demanded, at times contractually, that leading musicians perform his works by heart—more a symbol of devotion than proof of interpretative quality—and he would only support concerts if they included his music. If composing had started as a hobby for him, he now seemed to be aiming for musical success and saturation. (Kononenko declined to comment on his pursuit of musical prestige.)
A source who requested anonymity for fear of retaliation described Kononenko as a largely apolitical person, but keen for musical success. Kononenko is “incredibly ambitious as a tornado,” the source said.
The European Foundation for Support of Culture rapidly established itself as a leading philanthropic organization in Malta’s classical music circles. According to reporting by Jacob Borg for the Times of Malta, the foundation was responsible for an especially abrupt rise in the Malta Philharmonic’s fortunes. The ensemble, which one source described as a “sleepy island orchestra,” quickly found itself with a demanding international touring schedule, including a tour with dates at Carnegie Hall and the Mariinsky Theater.
Citing confidential sources, Borg wrote that Ishkhanov had established “considerable” influence at the Malta Philharmonic Orchestra. In 2017, Ishkhanov’s son Dmitry, a pianist, performed with the ensemble in their season closing concert. (The Malta Philharmonic told the Times of Malta it received less than €10,000 from the foundation. The orchestra did not respond to a separate request for comment from VAN.)
In a 2017 op-ed, Russian Ambassador to Malta Vladimir Malygin singled out Ishkhanov, Shor, and EUFSC for praise, saying the foundation has “been doing a remarkable job… bringing the best of Russian culture to Malta.” In 2014, Malygin had been expelled from Lithuania after the government accused him of spying under the cover of his title of Consul General. Malta was his next posting, and Malygin received the Order of Friendship by a Putin decree “for his significant contribution to the implementation of the foreign policy of the Russian Federation.” (Malygin left Malta in 2021. The Embassy of the Russian Federation in Malta did not respond to a request for comment.)
In 2018, the foundation reached the peak of its influence. Malta’s capital, Valletta, was named European Capital of Culture; meanwhile, the European Foundation for the Support of Culture put on both the Malta International Music Festival (with 11 works by Shor and a starry international cast) and the Malta International Piano Competition (with 11 different qualifying competitions leading to a final in Malta and a first prize of €100,000). In 2018, Aleksandra Mitiureva, the EUFSC employee photographed with Hans-Joachim Frey, was shown in an Instagram post with the Maltese Ambassador to Russia, Pierre Clive Agius. “Successful negotiations with the Ambassador,” she wrote in the caption. “Sure we will do great things together.”
In 2019, Konstantin Ishkhanov was honored by the Malta Arts Council for his “exceptional contribution” to cultural life” on the island. The same year, the Association for Support of Cultural Initiatives (APKI), a company founded by Mitiureva that represented the EUFSC in Russia, co-hosted a Maltese conference on liquified natural gas that was attended by international business interests including representatives for Russian state-owned energy giant Gazprom.
A website for APKI, now offline, described its mission as putting on “events in the sphere of strengthening the spiritual values of Russian and world culture in the territory of the Russian Federation and abroad… A special place in the activities of the Association is the promotion of classical music in all its manifestations.”
Mitiureva would do “everything necessary to develop cultural relations between Russia and Malta,” she told the magazine of Ishkhanov’s Maltese-Russian Friendship Foundation, the Maltese Herald. This included a collaboration between APKI, EUFSC and the Palace of the Kremlin to stage Shor’s ballet “Crystal Palace” in celebration of the 50th anniversary of diplomatic relations between Russia and Malta. (After APKI’s revenue rose from 3.17m Rubles in 2017 to 59.45m Rubles in a single year—an increase of 1775%—Mitiureva resigned from her post in 2019, and the company was liquidated in 2021. APKI’s website has been deleted, and Mitiureva has since changed her surname to Miteran.)
In 2020, the Maltese government concluded a due diligence report on the Malta Philharmonic’s relationship with donors, which gave the orchestra the all-clear to continue working with Ishkhanov. (It did not release the report, and the orchestra rejected Times of Malta freedom of information requests seeking its contracts with the European Foundation for Support of Culture. In April, the Maltese data protection commissioner ordered the Malta Philharmonic to comply with the newspaper’s request.)
In July 2023, Sergei Smbatyan, who had been the orchestra’s principal conductor since January 2022, and whose father Armen, a trained musician who later served as the Armenian Ambassador to Russia, was briefly suspended from his post. Publicly petitioning in Sergei Symbatyan’s support was an unusual coalition of cultural figures including Russian pianist Alexander Romanovsky, the Royal College of Music professor suspended for playing outside a bombed-out Mariupol Theater; Mikhail Shvidkoy, the Special Envoy of the President of the Russian Federation for International Cultural Cooperation; and seven of Armenia’s finest Greco-Roman wrestlers. In October, Smbatyan was reinstated to his MPO position and, through a representative, said he will conduct at least five concerts as Principal Conductor of the Malta Philharmonic in the 2024–25 season, though he will not conduct any music by Shor there. (Smbatyan is scheduled to conduct Shor’s music in Armenia at the end of the month.).
As one source who has followed the classical music scene in Malta for the past decade told VAN, the island seemed like the perfect place to start an opaque music empire. But as early as June 2022, not long after the Russian invasion of Ukraine, the EUFSC roadshow in Malta had mostly departed. As quickly as the foundation had built a “Mediterranean hub for creativity, diversity and cultural activity,” it was gone. In April 2024, the Times of Malta reported that all ties between the Malta Philharmonic and EUFSC had been severed more than 18 months ago. Even the EUFSC itself seemed to shut down. Their last Facebook post was in November 2022, and entries on their website stopped around a similar time.
The final entries on the EUFSC events page give hints as to the future—two tours of Eurasia of Maltese performers Joseph Calleja and Alan Chircop, music festivals in Latvia and Armenia, and a competition in Dubai. But it seems that Ishkhanov and Kononenko didn’t need Malta anymore. Now, they had their own world.
III: Welcome to Shorworld
Like a town built around a mine, an entire ecology has sprung up around the seemingly inexhaustible resources of Kononenko’s fortune and Ishkhanov’s energy as an organizer. That ecology is Shorworld: a labyrinthine network that intersects with the mainstream classical music industry while duplicating many of its structures. And though the organizations have left Malta, they seem to have found a suitable new base in Dubai, which has become a hub for Russian intelligence and business interests following the invasion of Ukraine.
Shorworld encompasses celebrity musicians who have endorsed Shor and Ishkhanov (though sometimes in evasive terms). It includes orchestras, from the London Symphony Orchestra to the Tokyo Philharmonic, whose performances of his music Shor has collected with Pokemon-worthy completism. It has its own circuit of festivals where Shor is featured, and its own network of competitions where Shor is required repertoire. And it produces a steady stream of sponsored content in the classical music publications.
This includes VAN Magazine. In August 2021, an EUFSC representative named Aleksandra Ogneva booked sponsored articles on our website promoting the Classic Piano International Piano Competition in Dubai. VAN hosted two sponsoredarticles that ran over two weeks for a fee of €1,350. (The articles were clearly marked as advertisements, and VAN editors played no part in writing them.) According to her LinkedIn resumé, Ogneva served as a cultural attaché for the Russian Embassy in Germany between 2005 and 2012. She did not reply to a request for comment.
In Dubai, Ishkhanov and his organizations replicated a structure familiar from their time in Malta: the large-scale, international music competition. Yet even by the cozy standards of classical music competitions, a striking number of generous prizes have been given from teachers to students or shared among colleagues in this ecosystem.
The 2024 Classic Piano International Competition consisted of 14 qualifying rounds leading to a grand finale in Dubai. In the Vienna qualifier, all three winners were students of chief juror Pavel Gililov. (Gililov, a professor at the Mozarteum, teaches piano to Ishkhanov’s son Dmitry, whom the tabloid Bild once dubbed a “Mini-Mozart.” Reached by phone, Gililov declined to comment.) In Lyon, all three podium places were given to former or current students of jurors. In the UK qualifier, two of the three podium places were given to former or current students of jurors Gililov or Ashley Wass. In Warsaw, first and third place went to students of a juror. Analysis by VAN shows that over €100,000 of prize money passed from teachers to former or current students at this round of the competition.
These are far from isolated incidents. At Classic Strings 2022, the winner, Israel Philharmonic concertmaster Dumitru Pocitari, won first prize and €100,000 in total, while the orchestra’s general manager sat on the jury. Two years later, Andrey Gugnin won the Classic Piano competition. Gugnin has been playing Shor’s music since at least 2017.
Last month, Boris Brovtsyn, an established violin soloist and chamber musician, won the London round of the Classic Violin Olympus competition, receiving €20,000 in prize money. The jury included Pavel Vernikov, a colleague of Brovtsyn at the Musik und Kunst Privatuniversität der Stadt Wien and “one of the most sought-after teachers in the world right now,” as Brovtsyn put it. It also included Robin Wilson, another colleague of Brovtsyn from the violin department at the Yehudi Menuhin School in Surrey, England. (“One doesn’t choose their juries,” Brovtsyn said. Though he knew Vernikov would be on the jury, he felt “quite uneasy” when he realized Wilson would be adjudicating; Brovtsyn said his first proper interaction with Wilson was after the competition, when Brovtsyn apologized for the “awkward position” he had put Wilson in.) Brovtsyn will progress to the finals of the competition in Dubai in April 2025, where he will compete for a share of a total prize fund of €310,000.
Even when artists win competitions without connections to Shor and Ishkhanov—Brovtsyn, who has previously performed Shor’s Fifth Violin Concerto, said he had only met the composer once—the prizes seem designed to bring them closer into the two mens’ orbit. In 2021, the pianist Miroslav Kultyshev won the InClassica “Classic Piano” International Piano Competition. He received €100,000, plus another €100,000 doled out over 20 concerts. Kultyshev has so far played 10 of those concerts, in Europe’s most prestigious venues, including the Musikverein in Vienna, the Rudolfinum in Prague, and the Mozarteum in Salzburg. The contract states that he must play music by Shor on each of the 20 programs.
“Logic and harmony—this is all wonderful, but the most important thing is that I saw that this music was written by a good person,” Kultyshev said of Shor’s music. “It is very sincere and, I would say, it comes from the right place.”
The ecosystem is also diversifying. In October 2022, Shor was named the first ever Associate Composer of the Yehudi Menuhin School, a prestigious specialist music school for students aged 8 to 19. In the announcement, Music Director Ashley Wass said he was “immediately struck by the exceptional craftsmanship” of Shor/Pletnev’s Piano Sonata. “This is 21st Century music which is distinctive, communicative, and deeply moving, and I’m hugely excited at the prospect of our pupils having the opportunity to explore Alexey’s musical oeuvre.”
It is unclear what the Associate Composer role entails, what the process of recruitment involved, or how much work Shor has done at the school so far. But since the appointment, Wass has completed a nine-date Classical Music Development Initiative-backed tour of the UK playing Shor’s music; was a jury member on two EUFSC/CMDI competitions; and led CMDI masterclasses in Austria and Italy. (Wass didn’t respond to multiple requests for comment.)
After the European Foundation for Support of Culture left Malta, Ishkhanov and his colleague, Aleksandra Mitiureva, founded two similar organizations in Dubai. Ishkhanov is named as the director of the Classical Music Development Initiative, while Mitiureva runs the associated SAMIT Event Group. The firm has presented Shor’s ballet “A Thousand Tales” in Bahrain, among other projects, and hosts a concert series called VIP Classical. With a board consisting of Mitiureva and Erik Essiger, founder of financial services provider Emirates Capital and a previous member of the German-Russian Co-operation Council, VIP Classical caters primarily to diplomats and other luminaries under the banner “Music unites cultures.”
Mitiureva has previous experience uniting business and diplomatic interests using classical music, though with more targeted aims, through her work at APKI. In April 2019, when APKI co-hosted the Liquid Natural Gas (LNG) Congress, in Malta, APKI organized for delegates to attend a concert of the Malta International Music Festival, hosted by the EUFSC. VIP Classical hosts performers such as Pletnev, Wass, Clara-Jumi Kang and Sunwook Kim, and Denis Kozhukhin, whose recital was attended by ambassadors from Canada, Finland, Panama, Côte d’Ivoire, Uganda and Moldova.
Works by Shor were on each of those artist’s programs.
Immediately following the performance, the musician who played Shor in Dubai two years ago swore that he would never play the composer’s work again. “I did it once for the good money,” he said, “but in and of itself, it’s just too shitty.”
Then he was asked to perform another handful of Shor concerts. The combination of high fees, low required practice time, passive peer pressure, and broad funding freezes for classical music performances meant that the musician felt unable to say no. He performed the work twice more, in Europe this time, for the same fee and with the same uncanny feeling: that reaching audiences with excellent performances wasn’t quite the point. Would he do it again in the future? “Hopefully,” he said, “that won’t be necessary.” ¶
Hartmut Welscher and Les Vynogradov contributed reporting.
If programming the Proms as a whole is a balancing act, the Last Night has its own extra challenges, not all of them connected to culture wars. Is it a live event that happens to be televised, or a TV broadcast with a live audience? This year, long pauses between short pieces meant that, for the first hour or so, there was almost as much waiting as music – making time for pre-recorded interviews on the TV broadcast but stretching patience in the hall, despite the relishable quality of the BBCSO’s playing and the bonhomie radiated by its conductor Sakari Oramo. Plus the piano was rolled on near the end of the first half and off during the second, which, for all the efficiency of the Proms stage staff, is no Formula 1 pitstop.
Still, that piano, or the person playing it, provided several of the evening’s highlights. As well as joining the US soprano Angel Blue in his own arrangement of two Spirituals, Stephen Hough was a nuanced soloist in Saint-Saëns’s ‘Egyptian’ Concerto – the second movement only, sadly – creating something magical with the composer’s other-worldly overtone effects. This would have been a sober end to the first half had he not followed it as an encore with his own dazzlingly playful fantasia on Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.
Blue, who was fulfilling a childhood dream by singing here, was on velvet-voiced form in two Puccini arias plus a flirty Spanish operetta number by Ruperto Chapì, delivered while lobbing roses into the audience, before returning to lead Rule, Britannia. Once again, the “azure main” she sang about might have referred to the sea of EU flags joining the union jacks and others throughout the hall.
As well as a couple of worthwhile Proms firsts – a bittersweet part song by Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, beautifully delivered by the BBC Singers, and Grace Williams’s elegant Fantasia on Welsh Nursery Tunes – there were two more premieres. Carlos Simon’s Hellfighters’ Blues paid tribute to the pioneering Black musicians of the 369th Infantry Regiment band in a joyful collision of blues and march, with a louchely jazzy starring turn for the BBCSO’s principal trumpet. And, following a sporting theme begun earlier by Charles Ives’s almost surreal orchestral depiction of the Yale-Princeton Football Game, Iain Farrington’s Extra Time was a mash-up of all the BBC’s sports theme tunes: a fluffy but inspired bit of Last Night silliness that had the BBC Symphony Chorus starting a huge Mexican wave.
Born and raised in Shetland and classically trained at the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland in Glasgow, Astrid Williamson was pulled back to her homeland by her mother’s turn to dementia and subsequent death. Shetland Suite, Williamson’s 10th album (including one fronting alt rockers Goya Dress), is an affecting tribute to her mother, a piano teacher, who even in the grip of dementia would sing these songs. Most are written in Shetland’s rich dialect, with one in Old Norse, and there are also instrumentals recalled from Williamson’s early violin lessons.
She plays, sings and produces everything, casting a yearning, sepulchral stillness over many of the numbers, with scant instrumentation beyond piano, discreet electronica and occasional gusts of wind and wave, relying on her vocals, often multi-tracked, to do the work. It all works perfectly. Unst Boat Song is an antique chant that is both celebration of sailing and a ward against bad weather. Da Narrowa Wheel is a mesmeric work song to accompany spinning. King Orfeo is a well-known ballad, with a harp-playing king (Orpheus) rescuing his wife from the faerie world, while Da Selkie Wife’s Sang is a minimalist modern piece that captures the islands’ weft of seashore and sky. A beautiful enchantment of place and memory.
“Vance George, who led the Chorus for 23 years, called the Symphony’s proposal to slash up to 80% of the group’s budget ‘simply awful,’ in a letter addressed to Symphony CEO Matt Spivey on Sept. 4.” – San Francisco Chronicle (MSN)