By the time of her death this past March at the age of 93, Sofia Gubaidulina was revered as a composer of religious, modernist, and folk-inspired music. A more fitting title than composer, however, might be a weaver of sound. Gubaidulina draws together various threads in her music, the most prominent of which are timbre and orchestration. My colleague, saxophonist Jake Loitz, describes the Duo Sonata for baritone saxophones (originally for bassoons) as “distinctly Gubaidulina in its acoustic presence.” “The two performers,” he says, “weave in and out of each other’s sounds in such a way that it sounds like a much larger ensemble, even with just two players.” Duo Sonata is structured in three distinct sections. The first features droning chromatic pitches from one saxophonist while the other plays a rhythmically and registrally expressive line. The second section highlights multiphonics and free rhythms, culminating in a chromatic ascent to high A, before both parts converge in a climactic multiphonic and transition into a final section that echoes the opening material. I find the organization of material through texture to be a staple of Gubaidulina that makes the Duo Sonata a signature part of her repertoire.

Where the Duo Sonata uses multiple instruments to create a sonic tapestry, Gubaidulina’s Aus den Visionen der Hildegard von Bingen for contralto voice and her Ten Cello Preludes explore the timbral possibilities of solo instruments. The former calls for the singer to alternate between “singing with respiratory sounds,” singing, and “between whispering and singing.” Gubaidulina’s signature timbral shifts weave through this piece and make it incredibly challenging to perform but wonderfully interesting to observe. In the latter, we hear the cello treated as a sound world unto itself. This is, perhaps, my favorite piece on the program.

Prelude No. 3, titled con sordino - senza sordino (Italian terms meaning “with mute” and “without mute,” respectively) plays on striking differences in tone, reserving the mute for the lower register of the instrument while letting the cello freely sing in its upper register without the mute. No. 5 is titled Sul ponticello ordinario sul tasto. These Italian markings reference the placement of the bow: sul ponticello asks the performer to bow their instrument near the bridge while sul tasto asks the performer to bow near the fingerboard. Finally, ordinario indicates that the performer should bow their instrument normally. Again, Gubaidulina spins out several timbral threads: while bowing near the bridge, the tone becomes raspy or airy; in the second half of the piece, which is played on the fingerboard, the tone immediately becomes soft and gentle. Finally, Prelude No. 7 is titled Al taco - da punta d’arco. This movement focuses on the cellist alternating between playing at the frog and at the tip of the bow. By pairing the low register and performing at the frog of the bow, Gubaidulina creates a short, harsh, and aggressive tone. The end of the piece transitions into bowing with the tip of the bow, and the tone shifts from harsh to gentle. While the tone is lighter, there is also a lack of depth and grit. I find these short works to be universally exciting and attainable to any listener. Sofia Gubaidulina is an expert of threading together varying textures and the Ten Cello Preludes best exemplify her style, making them a personal favorite of mine.

—Will Hermanowski ©2025