Performances of Shostakovich's Fourth Symphony (1935/6)
are few and far between, so it was something of a privilege to be present
for this one. It is, in retrospect, hardly a surprise that the composer
chose to withdraw the score and that the symphony had to wait until
December 1961 for its premiere. Here is Shostakovich at his most daring,
utilising a huge orchestra (over 100 players) and working within a unique
structure: two half-hour movements enclosing a short Moderato con moto.
The harmonic language is also uncompromising, the dynamic range extreme
(under Metzmacher's baton actually physically painful in fortissimi
for those members of the audience with intact hearing) and there is
plenty to disturb the squeamish in amongst the obsessive repetitions
and grotesqueries.
Right from the arresting opening, and with the cheeky,
characteristic woodwind solos, the rawness of Shostakovich's vision
was highlighted. The difficult fragmentary passages gripped the attention,
a testament to the orchestra's powers of concentration. Contrasts were
ruthlessly highlighted throughout, with the motoric fugue a particular
highlight. The spiky second movement (which, despite its brevity, is
much more than an interlude) set off the bleak, harrowing funeral march
of the third movement. The violins brought a heart-stopping non-espressivo
quality to the long melodic lines. A special mention should also perhaps
go to the solo trombone, true to the spirit of the music in his blatant
rudeness.
Metzmacher elected, correctly, to lay the score bare
for the listener. There was no glossing over of textures here, more
a frequently harrowing journey across a forbidding, sometimes barren
landscape. A mesmerising experience.
The first half was rather more mixed. ‘Meistersinger
Overture’ began in stolid fashion, far removed from its own inherent
grandeur. The piece did actually pick up some momentum, however, despite
some gratuitous over-indulgence along the way.
Pierre-Laurent Aimard is famously associated with the
music of the twentieth century; his account on disc of Messiaen’s Vingt
Regards is, in particular, a remarkable achievement. He has, however,
just recorded the complete Beethoven Piano Concertos with the Chamber
Orchestra of Europe under Harnoncourt (live performances from the Stefaniensaal,
Graz) and it was instructive to hear him in the well-loved Third. The
orchestra was perhaps too sluggish in the orchestral exposition: Aimard's
proclamatory entrance immediately put them into the shade, and they
continued to sound literal in comparison. Maybe there was a little bit
too much point-making from Aimard on occasion, but all criticism was
effectively silenced by his account of the cadenza. Gripping and exciting,
Aimard seemed convinced that this was top-flight Beethoven (certainly
not always the impression given by this cadenza).
Aimard's pedal technique was questionable in the intense
opening statement of the Largo: a shame, as it was as rapt as could
be in essence. Balance was carefully prepared: how nice to hear the
bassoon solos! A fast and glittering Rondo brought this insightful performance
to a close.
Colin Clarke
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