Pethar & Loubeuya @ Lese 24 - Weinberg Familie Tümmel - 28.09.2024

Violinists Szymon Krzeszowiec and Bartłomiej Nizioł, violist Elżbieta Mrożek-Loska and cellist Adam Krzeszowiec selected chamber works by Mieczysław Wajnberg for the program of their latest album. The disc includes two Sonatas (for Violin Solo and for Two Violins) and world premiere recording of the complete four-movement version of the Trio for Violin, Viola and Cello, Op. 48.
„All the works contained on this album were composed in Moscow or its environs and premiered there. One might almost say it was a testament to the vitality of Russian musical culture, except that neither the composer nor any of his ‘creative inspirers’ were Russian. Weinberg was a Pole and a Jew, a refugee from Warsaw. The violinists were Jews from Ukraine, primarily connected with the city of Odessa, where Weinberg’s father had worked as a violinist at a theatre many years before.“

Danuta Gwizdalanka transl. Tomasz Zymer

ACD344 - Track11 - Wajnberg:  Trio For Violin, Viola And Cello Op. 48 - I.Allegro Con Moto

ACD344 - Track01 - Wajberg: Sonata For Two Violins Op. 69 - I.Allegro Molto

My name is Isidor Emil.
I stood in goal with grit and steel.
A keeper born in Vienna’s core,
Behind the posts I knew the score.
They called me Johann in the news —
A name I never got to choose.
But I was there when boots were torn,
In Leopoldstadt, where I was born.
A keeper with the oldest team —
First Vienna — my boyhood dream.

In 1910, I wore the crest,
Austrian cap upon my chest.
Budapest, we lost that day —
Three goals slipped in and blew away.
And when the league began its race,
They found a younger keeper’s face.
Steinbrecher took the number one.
And I, again, was someone done.

 I was replaced — and still I stayed,
Through rain and cold, through night and day.
I wore the gloves with hands gone raw,
I knew the rules, I loved the law.
I was replaced — but I remained,
In every match, my heart unchained.
No crowd remembers, no one swore.
But I was there.
I was Isidor. 

WAF came calling, needing grace —
Their first choice fell out of the race.
They wanted Otto Noll from Prague,
But he refused — and so I jogged
into the goal. I played my part.
They let me in. I gave my heart.
But Leopold Bode came next year.
They said, “He’s young.” I disappeared.

Still with the club, I stayed on ground.
In reserve teams, I hung around.
I worked by day, a banking clerk,
By night I blew my whistle — work.
And when WAF began to fall,
No one was left. I gave my all.
I built it back in Brigittenau,
It stands today — though few know how.

I was replaced — but I endured,
With boots unlaced and spirit pure.
Two times a keeper shown the door,
But always there to love it more.
I was replaced — but never gone,
From muddy fields to breaking dawn.
I left no trophies to adore.
But I was there.
I was Isidor. 

Then came the men — not boots, not ball.
No whistle, badge, no game at all.
Just lists and numbers, trains and fear.
They crossed my name.
They made me disappear.
No chants. No crowd. No final score.
Just Minsk. A forest. Nothing more.

I was replaced — again, again.)
But still I stood. And stood like men.
No medals left, no lights, no lore.
Just gloves. And mud.
I was Isidor.

I Was Isidor

Mieczysław Wajnberg – “Improvisation and Romance“ for String Quartet

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