It's an opera completed in 1995 by Alfred Schnittke to a text by himself
and Joerg Morgener based on folk stories collected and published in 1587,
that I received from Berkshire (RCA/BMG 09026 68413 2).

Listening dutifully, while following the text, for most of the first two
acts, I found myself impressed by the choral passages and the instrumental
interludes and totally underwhelmed by the solo passages.  There seemed no
reasons why these passages, seemingly devoid of melodic content, chose one
note over another, contained one sequence of notes rather than another, or
selected one syllable to draw out or sing more loudly than another.  Any
other note would have sounded just as appropriate to me as the ones
selected for these passages.....

Until I came to the *Spoettische Scherzreden der teuflischen Geister*
("Mocking Jests of the Devilish Spirits") introduced by Mephistopholes
(spelled this way here but also "Mephistophiles" elsewhere; there is also
a female counterpart, Meph(o/i)stophila): "Weistu was, so schweig."

Permit me an aside here, which is musical in the sense that it refers
to a novel about music, Thomas Mann's *Doktor Faustus*.  "Weistu was, so
schweig" ("If you know something, shut up!") is archaic German for "Weisst
du was, so schweig" which, in German as in English, is an elliptic way of
saying, "there are some things about which, even if you know about them,
it's best not to talk".) Without going into too detailed an analysis, the
novel is about the life of a composer, Adrian Leverkuehn, whose life tracks
the history of Germany from the end of the nineteenth century to the
beginning of the Hitler years, when he finally dies of the syphilis he had
contracted early in his youth and which had rendered him insane during his
last years.  Leverkuehn is always aware of his infection and its eventual
consequences.  Depending upon how we read the novel, his infection either
reflects, or is believed by Leverkuehn to reflect, a pact made with the
Devil in exchange for which he, like the Dr. Faustus in the opera, is
afforded 24 years to compose works of unsurpassed genius.  Leverkuehn had
written an account of his conversations (either actual or believed to have
been such while in delirium) with the devil about that pact.  The first
words of that account are "Weistu was, so schweig." (When at the end of
the 24 years, Leverkuehn feels the onset of his madness, he insists upon
calling all his surviving friends and acquaintances to his rooms to expose
before their eyes his disintegration.  Somewhat similarly, Dr. Faustus
calls his students together to disclose to them his shameful secret just
as his 24 years are winding down.)

Getting back to Schnittke's opera, the introductory words to this passage
alone would have drawn my attention.  But it differs, at least for me, from
the solo vocal lines that had gone before.  Here was a line, melodic if you
will, but in any event evidence that, even in the 1990s, it is possible to
write original lines of music that impress themselves upon the listener to
the point that s/he can recognize them when s/he hears them again.  There
follow alternating mocking verses by Mephisophila and Mephistophiles, an
orchestral interlude, a few more solo passages tempting the unlearned
listener like me to reassume his earlier assessment of the opera until
we get to the orchestral interlude following *Doctor Fausti zweite
Verschreibung* ("Doctor Faustus' Second Undertaking"), a second
solemnization, written in blood of his commitment to the devil.

It begins w/ a startling succession of chords followed by a parody of
what could have been a popular tune (reminding me, first of what I think
is the 4th movement of Bartok's Concerto for Orchestra, and then of some
Shostakovich).  Subsequently, after what seems to me rather unnecessary
dialogue with his students, Faustus (not Mephistophiles) conjures up the
fair Helena from Homer's epic to sublimely beautiful music, mercifully
unaccompanied by any singing until at the very end Faustus himself is
unable to say anything other than gasp, "Uh.....", concluding Act 2.

Act 3 begins with the end of the 24th year of which the chorus advises us
(fugally?) in impressive textual counterpoint.  There is a shift in the
music's mood as Faustus' last meal with his students is mentioned.  The
scene ends w/ a thought again reminiscent of Mann's novel.  In the opera,
Faustus says:

   Ich sterbe als ein boeser und guter Christ:
   ein guter Christ darum, dass ich eine Reue habe,
   ein boeser, weil ich weiss,
   dass der Teufel den Leib will haben.

   "I die as a bad and as a good Christian:
   A good Christian because I am contrite,
   A bad Christian because I know
   The devil will have my body."

Leverkuehn in Mann's novel realizes that no sin is so great that its sinner
cannot find salvation upon true repentance but that, having willingly
accepted the fruits of his devil's pact knowing of that avenue of escape,
such pre-damnation repentance must be meaningless, making him incapable of
redemption.  But, since he knew of the unavailability to him of salvation
by redemption, he hadn't entered into his devil's pact with crossed fingers
and can perhaps now avail himself of salvation by repentance, except that
this starts the circle all over again.  I'm no theologian (nor even a
believer) so I don't pretend to have presented this w/ requisite clarity.
I think, however, that Schnittke, Morgener and the 16th century writers got
it as clear as it can be presented to lay people, in the above four lines.

Dr. Faustus makes it clear again when he explains why he cannot pray for
God's help saying that, like Cain's his sins were greater than that they
might be forgiven.  Mephistophiles intervenes at this point reassuring him
that, just as "The Turk, the Jew and other unchristian emperors" have died,
so must he, but his sojourn in hell need not be one of suffering.  The
Narrator advises us that these reassurances are all false and we hear the
clock striking twelve times.  Mephisophila then describes Faustus' hideous
death, all to a tango beat, to which she and the chorus sing a "la, la, la"
and which becomes more grim (sort of moving from Bernstein's *Candide* to
Kurt Weil).  The Moral is first whispered tunelessly by the chorus to what
I think is soft organ accompaniment, growing to audible song to orchestral
accompaniment, fading to an "amen" passage sung to a hurdy-gurdy-like tune.
The Epilogue starts w/ an organ passage, and the chorus starts softly but
gets louder, advising us to resist the devil, then fades away, and the last
thirty seconds is the oompahpah of the hurdy-gurdy theme likewise fading
away.

All in all, except for the end of the second act, it's the third act that
makes the opera for me.  From the liner notes, I gather that the third act
was written first when, in 1980, Christoph von Dohnanyi had commissioned
Schnittke to write the opera.  The project was abandoned when Dohnanyi
left the Hamburg Staatsoper, but the third act was already complete and
was premiered at the Festwochen in Vienna in 1983 as the *Faust-Kantate*.
Work on the rest of the opera did not resume until 1992, by which time
the composer had already suffered several strokes and, as the liner notes
report "writing the score could only be carried out very slowly and not
without strenuous effort."

Nevertheless, I don't regret the $11.98 plus a share of the s&h of that and
other CDs that I spent on this recording.

Walter Meyer