Dmitri Shostakovich - Cello Sonata in D minor, Op. 40 (1934)
Dmitri Kabalevsky - Cello Sonata in B flat major, Op. 71 (1962)
Sergei Prokofiev - Ballade in C major, Op. 15 (1912)
Dmitri Shostakovich - Moderato for Cello and Piano (1930s? - Discovered 1986)
Sergei Prokofiev - Adagio 'Cinderella and the Prince', Op. 97 (1944)
Dmitri Kabalevsky - Rondo in memory of Prokofiev, Op. 79 (1965)

The Cello Sonata in D minor, Op. 40 by Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975) was composed around the same time as his fearsome Symphony No. 4, a period during his life when the apprehension of being dragged away by the Soviet regime's secret police must have weighed constantly on his mind. And in typical Shostakovich fashion, the musical narrative itself is infected, intentionally or not, by this inceptive phobia. At the onset it sounds very much like something Rachmaninov would have written, especially when the hyper-lyrical main subject appears around the 2:00 mark (unusually beautiful for Shostakovich). But it doesn't take long before the bogeyman of fear rears its ugly head. This beautiful and tender passage, which returns a few times during the first movement, is always quickly shadowed by a repeated three-note motif in the piano's lower register, that could be interpreted as an urgent knock at the door. As a matter of fact, near the end, that knock is replaced by yet another piano passage that sounds like someone creeping up the stairs. Eventually the movement ends shrouded in mystery. Now, as if Shostakovich had been taken away in the night, the second movement sounds like a steam locomotive bound for Siberia. The aptly dark and morose Largo that follows intensifies the sense of bleak and utter desolation that this composer could project like no one else. And again in typical Shostakovich about-face character, the final movement comes in like a court jester, juggling various folk tunes in a slapstick manner, meant to erase all signs of the preceding nightmare.

Cellist Steven Isserlis and pianist Olli Mustonen evince every contextual drop of expressive narrative that form the core of this work, and capture the tone and sentiment of the first movement extremely well. The aforementioned hyper-lyrical main subject in particular is given all the expressive care and attention to dynamic detail it deserves. They certainly go out of their way to convince the listener that this Sonata is more than mere musical notation on a page.

The other main work on this CD is the Cello Sonata in B flat major, Op. 71 by Dmitri Kabalevsky (1904-1987). Despite being tailored from the same cloth as the Shostakovich, it is more concerned with advancing cello technique and expanding technical demands on the cellist himself. The final movement in particular exerts high demands on both musicians, not only in dexterity but in constant interplay with each other, something both Isserlis and Mustonen dispatch with aplomb. Kabalevsky was more concerned with music education throughout his life and his music, as colorful and intricate as it is, reflects that.

The other pieces on this recording round out the disc very well, but it's the Moderato by Shostakovich that is the most compelling, as it is atypical of this composer. It has only been recorded about four times when compared to the Sonata who has been graced with more than 60 recordings.