David Maslanka was born in summer 1943, in Bedford, Massachusetts. He completed his undergraduate studies in composition at the Oberlin Conservatory under Joseph Wood in 1965, and did his graduate and doctoral work at Michigan State University with H. Owen Reed. During his undergrad, he spent a year studying at the Mozarteum in Salzburg, Austria. After graduating from MSU in 1971, he held academic positions at Sarah Lawrence College, New York University, and both the State University of New York and City University of New York. In 1990, after almost twenty years in New York, he and his wife and three children moved to Missoula, Montana, where he would live until his death in 2017. 

Maslanka’s Sonata for Oboe and Piano, completed on May 5, 1992 in Missoula per the composer’s hand, is one of his first works that he had completed since leaving New York City. Somewhat understandably, the natural world became much more important to Maslanka after his move; he would hike almost every day and spent a great deal of time exploring the wilderness that is so prevalent in Montana. The influence of nature on his compositions is quite marked - they became more motivic, melodic, and pure. Of equal importance is the influence of J.S. Bach, as Maslanka and his wife would play four-hand arrangements of a Bach chorale every day until the day they died. Bach chorales frequently appear in Maslanka’s work (albeit in a more angular and aggressive instrumentation), creating a strong harmonic foundation that he then develops.

In Maslanka’s own words, the oboe sonata is inspired by “the idea of ecstatic vision, of seeing the beauty of the world directly as it is, without story of interpretation -- direct, immediate, powerful perception. As such, there is a quality of being swept up and swept along, regardless of one’s wishes, and also of being held in rapt stasis.” These qualities are evident from the very first bar, as the pianist plays a massive open fifth, shortly followed by a wild phrase for the oboe, inspired by a shamanic poem in Eskimo tradition. This call lays out the entire building blocks of the piece in the first two minutes. The music gets louder, more rhythmically intense, and higher as both oboe and piano simply shout. This opening transitions into a rustic and raw minuet in B-flat major, so absurdly simple it speaks to the most fundamental human emotions. More notes and dissonances sneak in until it breaks open into a restatement of the opening music, which slowly loses energy and intensity as the movement comes to a close.

The second movement is in a loose A-B-A form with a short introduction that teases the movement’s motivic material. After a short oboe cadenza, the oboe and piano together present the A theme, which uses the piano’s rhythmic capabilities relentlessly. The rhythms become more complex before collapsing dramatically, leading to the B section, which presents similar motivic material, but much more subdued and softly. A short retransition by the piano starts the second A section, which similarly builds to a breaking point before disappearing and fading off into the mist.

The third movement opens with a mysterious melody from the piano, with commentary from the oboe. This melody grows in intensity as the volume increases and increases until both oboe and piano are shouting at the top of their lungs. The dam finally breaks, and what follows is music that would not be out of place in a classic Western - the sense of adventure is flawless. This too builds and builds until it cannot stay together, and falls apart catastrophically as oboe and piano repeat three notes over and over again until they fade into nothing. A short recitative bridges the gap into the movement’s close, which ties all the previous material together in a simple but profound way.

Almost nothing is known about Marina Dranishnikova. Born in 1929 to Vladimir Dranishnikov, at that time the conductor of the Mariinsky Theater in Leningrad, she studied piano at the Leningrad Conservatory with Nadezha Golubovskaya. This Poeme was published in 1953 and dedicated to V.M. Kurlin, the solo oboist of the Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra. Kurlin and Dranishnikova were lovers whose relationship ended in an unknown tragedy; it is thought to have been the inspiration behind this piece. It remains her only known composition. 

The piece is loosely palindromic, with both beginning and ending taking place in a somber e-flat minor, making use of a wide array of darkly colorful intervals. The piano states the first theme and develops it through a sequence that resolves in F-flat major (a completely different universe from e-flat minor) before asking a question that goes unanswered until the oboe comes in with the first theme, this time accompanied by a rhythmic piano. Dranishnikova makes use of extraordinary lines, both in their sheer length and their harmonic intensity, to create an otherworldly sense of suspension and drama that delays resolution and defies expectation at every turn. The opening aria ends with a dramatic recitative by the oboe that almost completely fades away before seamlessly transitioning into the first of two agitated dance sections. Dranishnikova creates a sense of instability with persistent use of hemiola, and leans into the anguished aspects of the oboe with loud interjections in the high register. 

A brief callback to the opening bridges the gap into the center of the piece. The oboe, accompanied by flowing sixteenth notes in the piano, spins a vocal line that is not dissimilar to the opening, except it is now in E major, and visits neighboring diminished tonalities more frequently. She effortlessly modulates to a glorious C-sharp major statement of the section’s theme before traveling back to E major. The lush harmony in this entire section paints a picture of all the wonderful things she remembers from their relationship and how intensely she felt every single one of them. As the line dies down, she sneaks in just enough “unexpected notes” borrowed from different tonalities that we get a simultaneous sense of happiness and foreboding. The foreboding comes to fruition when a brief recitative connects to the second dance section.

This time, the music has a darker color and more forward momentum marked by tonal ambiguity and flurries of notes in both the oboe and piano, along with the return of the hemiola motif. The section builds to a breaking point, where the oboe and piano collectively shriek with sadness. The somber question of the beginning returns, and along with it a final statement of the first theme by the piano, accompanied with ornamental notes in the oboe. It is only here where we have finally re-settled in the key of e-flat minor, and the phrases slowly lose direction until they become static, perhaps signifying that the journey of two lovers is finally over.