From Alyssa

Even before sitting down to read through the Sonata for the first time, something already stood out when we downloaded the score from IMSLP – the title.  Contrary to common practice, these were not two cello sonatas, or even two sonatas for cello and piano, they were two sonatas for piano and cello.  Putting the piano first had to be a deliberate decision, but why?

It was certainly a virtuosic piano part, but that is the case with many cello sonatas – I've had pianists outright refuse to accompany me if I put Rachmaninoff on the program, and that is still named as a cello sonata.  Kashperova was already a fêted pianist upon graduation, could it have been ego?  But no, as we later saw in her memoirs and other people's stories about her, she was certainly self-assured, but ego was not even the tiniest factor.

These sonatas were also dedicated to Monsieur A. Wierzbilowicz, the cellist she wrote these for, and who premiered them with her.  Why would the dedicatee's instrument not come first?

This was our first of what turned out to be many discoveries of how Kashperova enjoyed standing things on their heads, putting in little clues and winks to help us tell the story she could not speak out loud, as a young woman in late nineteenth century Russia.

These two sonatas are Kashperova's Opus 1 – her first after graduating from the St. Petersburg Conservatoire, where she had first been top of the class in Anton Rubinstein's Special Piano class (awarded the Schröder Pianoforte Prize), and then graduated a second time from Nikolai Solovyov's theory and composition class.  For her graduation concert, she'd conducted her own cantata, even though Rubinstein had declared allowing women to conduct was “just a farcical idea”.  (Only one example of the sexism she would have had to face during her entire time at the Conservatoire, and as she made her way often as the sole woman in upper musical circles.)

Monsieur Wierzbilowicz was the cello professor at the Conservatoire – who had rendered the young student tongue-tied at first introduction (more on that in another post).  Up until mere months before Kashperova completed these sonatas, showed them to him and played them with him, Wierzbilowicz would have, technically, been her superior.

But not in these sonatas.  And not any more, now that she's graduated.  Kashperova is declaring her equality, both musically and in the title.  She is not here to support the soloist who gets all the glory, she is a part of the glory.  Both instruments are equal partners – and, especially with this first sonata, independent characters, each of whom trades off the leading or supportive roles, and often wanders off in their own direction.

Some quick examples (we'll get into them deeper later, as well as lots of others) as illustration:

• dynamic markings are often different between the two instruments, e.g., first movement, measure 38, the cello is marked forte and stays that way until the end of m.46, while the piano is marked piano in 40 – at first we thought this was a typo, but as we got deeper into the piece, realized it was exactly what she wanted (we've since had many “stop doubting Leoliya!” moments)
• the main theme of the Andante (third movement) has the two instruments in completely different worlds, with the piano marching on solidly, while the cello weaves a sinewy elegiac melody
• in the final movement, starting at m.96, where we thought the cello had the melody (and were playing it as such), but couldn't make sense of that section until Sandra was working out something on her own, and suddenly we realized that the piano was quoting “Swan Lake” (we'll definitely get into this deeper in another post!), and the cello needed to be quiet and allow that theme to come out

So much of what Kashperova has written in this sonata breaks with the conventions of her day, starting with the title and treatment of the two instruments.

While we have not studied the second sonata as intensely as the first (yet!), Sandra and I have come to see this first sonata very much as Kashperova's ‘manifesto’ – “here I am”, “this is my voice”, “I won't be silenced”.

Indeed, after showing the sonata to her former professors, they all suggested a number of 'corrections' to her work.  She refused them all.  (We will talk about many of these ‘errors’ in future posts.)

She knew exactly what she wanted to say, and how to say it, and no longer needed to abide by the rules and customs of the Conservatoire.  This is Leokadiya.  The Songbird.  An equal among her peers, if not miles ahead of them.