Both these concertos are characterized by violent contrasts of dynamics, character, texture, and mood. Kancheli calls his work, dedicated to a departed friend, a liturgy. Long passages of motionless single-note drones induce a hypnotic sense of stasis. In four continuous movements, without form or development, it has terrifying orchestral crashes, whispered two-note undulations by the viola, dark, mournful melodies, and lovely folksong- and hymn-like tunes supported by simple tonal harmonies. The ultimate impression is mournful, devotional, and mesmerizingly beautiful. The Schnittke Concerto employs his characteristic "polystylistic," sometimes-chaotic mix of the old and the new. Intense and wild, with big leaps, dissonances, and cadenzas, it opens with a long, eloquent viola solo; the second movement, a "restless chase," sounds like a grotesque waltz; the Finale is a strongly autobiographical, death-haunted lament. The total emotional impact, aided by a terrific, riveting performance, is shattering. --Edith Eisler