Impressions of the Thames

The incredibly long-lived American composer Leo Ornstein (1893-2002) witnessed all the tragedy and triumph of the 20th century. Born in Russia to a musical family, Ornstein revealed precocious pianistic ability. Shortly after enrolling at the St Petersburg Conservatory in 1904, his family was forced to emigrate to escape antisemitic pogroms sweeping the empire. He started to earn acclaim as a pianist in the United States, but already more and more of his energy turned toward composition. Regarded as a Prokofiev in overdrive, Ornstein penned dissonant, cluster-based piano works that astounded listeners. From riots to raves, fists were swinging in the audience while Ornstein’s own fists crashed upon the keys, producing clusters of six, eight, ten adjacent notes at the same time. He fast became the most dazzling figure in the international musical scene—then abruptly stopped performing in public in the early 1920s. He also abandoned an ultra-modernist style for greater lyricism. From 1940 until his death in 2002 at age 108, Ornstein lived simply and reclusively with his wife. The very last compositions, tonal and reflective and written in his late 90s, are literally a lifetime away from the brash abandon of his early innovations.
Impressions of the Thames (1913), as its title suggests, borrows from the atmospheric palette of impressionist artists and composers. Debussy’s influence comes through in the series of massive chords that slide in parallel motion; one might even think Ornstein’s use of French for the work’s original title (Impressions de la Tamise) pays debt to Debussy. Yet when compared to a work like Debussy’s evocative “La cathédrale engloutie,” which shares the important water theme, Ornstein’s “Impressions” are far more visceral. The chordal beginning spans the entire register of the piano, and the second idea—rapid arpeggio thrusts—does hint at the sparkling play of light on the river. But this is a deep, powerful river, whose dangers inspire a thundering central section of running left-hand notes and tremolos. Ornstein revisits the planes of chords and clusters before drifting off to a haunting, subdued conclusion.

(c) Jason Stell