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Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-75) The Complete Symphonies
see end of review for full details
Royal Philharmonic Orchestra; St Petersburg
Philharmonic Orchestra (Nos. 7 & 11); NHK Symphony Orchestra
(Nos. 4, 13, 14)/ Vladimir Ashkenazy
rec. 1987-2006. DDD.
Booklet with sung texts in Russian (transliterated) and English;
notes in English, French and German. DECCA 475
8748 [12 CDs: 758:30]
Such is the
abundance of recordings of Shostakovich now that these recordings
of the symphonies somehow slipped under my radar. They were
issued individually during the 1980s and 1990s without the
kind of publicity with which Decca made us aware of their
Haitink recordings. These Ashkenazy versions were soon deleted
and forgotten, though some were made available by ArkivCD
on CDR. The Leningrad remains available on 448 814
2.
In fact, when
I first looked at the box, I thought that it was a reissue
of the Haitink box set. So blasé are Decca about the release
of this new box set that a search of their on-line catalogue
failed to come up with any reference to it. Another minor
grumble – in working out the times for the individual works
I discovered that some of the timings in the booklet are
incorrect: CD3 plays for 69:48, for example, not 69:35 as
stated and CD7 for 66:30, not 65:57.
The new set
is issued partly as a celebration of Ashkenazy’s 70th birthday.
It represents good value, the equivalent of bargain price
per CD, and the performances and recordings are good enough
to warrant a general recommendation.
The Haitink
remains available on 11 CDs for around the same price as
the new set - about £60 in the UK - with individual symphonies
also available at mid- and bargain-price. Neither of the
Decca sets, however, is uniformly ideal and I have suggested
some alternatives which you may prefer. In the main, bearing
in mind the inexpensive nature of both Decca sets, I have
tried to limit my alternative recommendations to CDs at less
than full price.
The First Symphony
receives a performance that makes it sound worth listening
to, not just a student work. Instead of emphasising its debts
to other composers, Ashkenazy brings out the individual touches.
Though it is not a work I listen to frequently – hardly on
a par with Sibelius’s First Symphony either in its own right
or as a predictor of things to come – it is well performed
and recorded and well worth the occasional outing. Considering
that Ashkenazy and the RPO had previously recorded only the
Fifth Symphony, a rather hesitant beginning for players,
conductor and recording engineers, the First and the Sixth
Symphony, recorded at the same time, are very creditable.
The Festive
Overture gets the second CD off to a good start and
the version of the Second Symphony which follows also receives
a fine performance. The symphonic poem October and
the choral Song of the Forests rather outstay their
welcome, though Ashkenazy makes the best possible case
for them. Had Decca chosen to omit these less attractive
pieces, totalling almost 50 minutes, and re-coupled the
symphonies, the whole could have been accommodated on 11
CDs, like rival versions, including Decca’s own Haitink
set.
The Fourth
Symphony is a new recording, with the NHK Symphony Orchestra,
presumably because the balance of critical opinion was that
the earlier version with the RPO was one of the weakest CDs
in that series. The new recording, for all the virtues of
the orchestral playing, also fails by a small margin to reveal
exactly what it was about this symphony that made it political
dynamite and caused it to be shelved for over a quarter of
a century, though Ashkenazy comes close to it in the climax
of the Allegro section of the final movement, an angry
outburst which dies away almost to inaudibility.
By contrast
Rozhdestvensky really makes the Allegro blaze on his
1985 Melodiya recording, once available on Olympia, but sadly
not currently available. The Decca recording is, of course,
superior to the Melodiya, though Olympia’s re-mastering of
this is not at all bad, with the contrast between the loudest
outbursts and the quiet ending almost as well captured as
by the Decca engineers. Even the tremulous Russian brass
and the imbalance which makes, for example, the xylophone
over-prominent seem appropriate to Rozhdestvensky’s reading.
The Jazz Suite which follows after all-too-short an
interval on the Olympia CD rather destroys the atmosphere
after the symphony.
In place of
the Rozhdestvensky recordings, Melodiya have chosen to issue
Kondrashin’s versions as a box set, but Rozhdestvensky’s
1962 Philharmonia version – the symphony’s first performance
in the West – is available on BBC Legends (BBCL42202). Barshai’s
version on Regis at bargain price (RRC1103) offers the interpretation
of an echt-Shostakovich conductor with a Western orchestra.
For many (most?)
the Fifth Symphony will be the test piece. Two versions of
this Symphony have stood the test of time. The Ančerl
version, at one time an incredible bargain on a Music for
Pleasure LP at 12/6 (63p), is still available at mid-price
on Supraphon Gold (Nos. 1 and 5 on SU36992) and Previn’s
RCA recording is still an incredible bargain (82876 55493
2, with the Hamlet Suite). The Barshai version of
Nos. 5 and 6 is also an excellent bargain (Regis RRC1075),
as is Haitink’s coupling of 5 and 9 on Eloquence 467 478
2. All these CDs offer longer playing times than CD5 of the
Askenazy set, though the latter is actually 56:42, not 56:29
as stated.
Initially,
Ashkenazy’s Fifth is disappointing: the violins sound distinctly
undernourished and the recording is less vivid than the 40-year-old
Previn, even with the volume higher than normal. This was
the first CD in the series to be recorded and the first to
be issued; neither the RPO nor Ashkenazy had had much experience
with Shostakovich at that time, so the hesitant opening is,
perhaps, to be expected. By a little over eight minutes into
the first movement, however, the performance and recording
begin to take off – the central section is dramatic but not
overdone, its abrupt changes very well handled, and the ensuing
coda especially effective, its close really magical.
There is the
briefest of pauses before the swaggering second movement
intrudes on the peace, perhaps to stress Shostakovich’s later
denial that the symphony was at all optimistic – reflecting
merely the forced optimism that was beaten into the Soviet
citizens. Forced or not, it is clear from the finale that
the orchestra and conductor are both enjoying themselves.
Even the notes in the booklet are not quite sure that the
hysteria of this movement serves only to underline the emptiness
and hopelessness of the work as a whole. The words “Or so
one interpretation might run” seem to indicate that the writer
might think otherwise.
There is a
real danger that the version(s) of a great work by which
one came to know that work can colour our perception of other
interpretations. Be that as it may, the competition is fierce
in this symphony and the Ančerl and Previn versions
still sound more ‘right’ than the Ashkenazy.
The Five
Fragments are almost contemporary with the Fifth Symphony
but they are small beer by comparison and it was surely
as great a mistake to place them after the main work as
it was for Olympia to have the Jazz Suite follow
hard on the heels of the Fourth.
The Sixth Symphony
receives a sympathetic performance, perhaps the best in the
set. One reviewer of the original CD thought the recording
rather too thin but this is not a criticism which I share.
I note that all the CDs, whether new or reissues, have new
matrix numbers, so it may be that re-mastering has removed
the problem.
The Seventh
and Eleventh Symphonies were recorded with the St Petersburg
Phil – this is especially appropriate for the Seventh, the Leningrad,
since it was in that city, now St Petersburg, that Shostakovich
began work on the symphony. The brief sub-fusc extract from
the wartime broadcast in which Shostakovich announced the
completion of two parts of what he hoped would become a symbol
of his country’s defiance of Nazism is of historical interest
but I am not sure that I want to hear it every time I listen
to the Leningrad or to have to programme the player
to omit it. The performance more than atones for the inconvenience,
making an impact right from the start. Though later, at times,
Ashkenazy is unwilling to let rip as fully as I might wish,
this is one of the most effective performances in the box
and its continued existence on a single CD is fully justified.
Without subscribing
to the view that only Russian orchestras can interpret Shostakovich,
I hear a distinct difference here from the playing of the
RPO on the earlier CDs. It may be some kind of placebo-effect
but I don’t think so. The recording, which emphasises the
timpani and percussion more than the Walthamstow recordings,
and the change of venue probably play a part in the difference.
The incremental build-up to the menace in the opening movement
is especially well handled by all concerned. Whether the
menace of Hitler alone or that of Stalin too is intended,
remains one of those moot questions which Ashkenazy’s ‘straight’ interpretation
is as content to leave open as am I. For a discussion of
this and other issues relating to Shostakovich’s wartime
symphonies, see Paul Serotsky’s notes here
on Musicweb.
I have seen
one criticism that here and elsewhere Ashkenazy’s conducting
refuses to ‘move forward’, but the conductor can only move
where the music takes him and, for me, Ashkenazy goes with
the flow here and, mostly, elsewhere. He may make the music
sound smoother than some interpreters – a little too smooth
for me in places, including the Fourth, as I have indicated – but
so does Haitink to name but one other.
There are several
very worthwhile alternatives for the Leningrad, not
least the Barshai in the lowest price category (Regis RRC1074).
Whatever else, please do not be seduced into buying the Naxos/Slovak
version by the recommendation of an eminent and trusted critic
who should have known better than to write that it is “full
of dramatic flair”. It isn’t – it’s really under-powered:
I bought it some years ago and promptly gave it away to my
local charity shop. In mitigation, I must add that I have
never before, in almost forty years, regretted following
this reviewer’s advice. Were EMI to reissue their Berglund
recording, a very fine version, until recently available
coupled with a sound performance of No.11 on a low-price
twofer, that would be a very acceptable bargain. Several
of the Double forte series are being reissued as Geminis;
I hope this will be one of them.
The Eighth
Symphony is a notorious divider of opinion: reviewers have
almost come to verbal blows, for example, over their (dis)like
of the Rostropovich version (Apex 0927 49850 2) – not a version
that I have heard, so I can cheerfully duck this argument.
For me, like the Leningrad – perhaps even more so – it
needs to be kept moving and this it initially failed to do.
On paper Ashkenazy’s timings for all the movements but one
are noticeably faster than Haitink’s: 24:58 for this first
movement against Haitink’s 25:55, yet my initial impression
was that Haitink’s opening was more urgent, whilst still
capturing the meditative nature of the opening. Haitink’s
Concertgebouw players, of course, have the edge on Askenazy’s
less polished RPO.
Perhaps it
was the contrast between the bombast of the opening work
on this disc, the Funeral and Triumphal Prelude in Memory
of the Heroes, which Ashkenazy actually makes sound better
than it probably is, that made the opening of the Eighth
seem not to be going anywhere. I have already said that a
conductor can only go with the flow of the music and, once
the movement is underway, around 11:30 into the movement,
Ashkenazy does really capture its spirit and the rest of
this long movement goes well. Maybe the fault for the hesitant
opening is really Shostakovich’s: perhaps, for once, the
authorities were right, at least as far as the opening is
concerned, in their view that the war had had too great an
effect on Shostakovich and that he had given in to pessimism.
Or maybe Ashkenazy has been too ready to apply the suggestion
in the Memoirs that the Eighth was an even more subversive
work than even his critics knew.
After the opening
movement Ashkenazy steers a safe course which will prove
generally satisfactory for most listeners and the recording
is fine, especially if reproduced at a higher-than-usual
level. By comparison with Haitink, though, that last degree
of excellence is missing. Novorossiisk Chimes (subtitled The
Fire of Eternal Glory) really is a pot-boiler: even Ashkenazy
cannot make much of it and it is a real let-down after the
symphony.
Haitink’s Eloquence
version of the Eighth is very worthwhile (467 465 2), as
also are the Leningrad PO/Mravinsky version on Regis (RRC1250)
and Barshai’s with the Bournemouth Symphony on Classics for
Pleasure (5 87034 2). If the Previn version, briefly available
on HMV Classics, were to become available again, that would
also be worth serious consideration. Again I recommend avoidance
of the Naxos/Slovak version and Dave Billinge’s review of
the Australian Eloquence version of this symphony (Braithwaite)
was hardly confidence-inspiring. Nor was Colin Clarke much
more impressed in his review of
the Kofman version. Adrian Smith’s review of
the Litton version was much more positive. John Phillips
recommended the Jansons,
a version now available, I believe, only in a box set, albeit
at a very favourable price (see below).
Symphonies
9 and 15 are harnessed together – an odd coupling on the
face of it, though it works quite well, with the sotto
voce opening of No.15 following on the heels of the throw-away
ending of No.9. The way in which the finale of No.15 dies
away makes a good contrast with the abrupt end of No.9. Once
again, these are good performances, well recorded, but no
match for the Rozhdestvensky versions. These erstwhile Olympia
recordings capture the spirit of Shostakovich so well that
it really is time that someone reissued the series.
No.9 is another
symphony which should not have happened not because, like
the Fourth, it was in danger of being dubbed ‘formalist’ but
because it is not the great celebration of victory which
the authorities were expecting. The jaunty, ironically tuneful
opening has been compared to Haydn and Rossini but I also
hear an echo of Bartók. It is usually assumed that the symphony
was a deliberate snub to Stalin but I wonder if it is not
the case that, in the first movement at least, he was also
concerned with artistic matters, responding to Bartók who
had parodied one of the more facile passages of Shostakovich’s
Fifth Symphony in his Concerto for Orchestra (1944).
The booklet
calls the 9th “music for a hollow victory” and
the performance conveys this well – foot-tapping music at
one level but provoking deeper thought. Ashkenazy makes no
attempt to mitigate the abrupt endings of the first movement
and finale, throwing them off in just the right manner like
a comedian’s punch-line. The slow movement meanders by comparison
with Rozhdestvensky but not inordinately. The orchestral
support here is generally good, with enough weight when it
is required in the finale, and the recording is obviously
much better than Rozhdestvensky is accorded on Olympia.
The Tenth is
coupled with the Chamber Symphony, Barshai’s arrangement
of the Eighth Quartet, Shostakovich’s most popular chamber
work. My preference remains for the quartet in its original
form, skilful as the orchestration is. If you must have the
orchestral version, this is as good as any. The mysterious
opening is well captured, but it sounds even more mysterious
in its original form. The transition from the first to the
second movement is much more dramatic in the original: the
orchestral version sounds less powerful, less immediate.
This is not the fault of the orchestra or the recording:
some orchestrations, like the Tchaikovsky Souvenir de
Florence or Schoenberg’s Verklärte Nacht, do work – this
does not, at least for me. Decca must think otherwise: they
have chosen an extract from Ashkenazy’s version of the Chamber
Symphony as the sole representation from this set on their Simply
Shostakovich ‘Accessible Introduction’ (475 7927).
The first movement
of the Tenth is of Mahlerian proportions, with more than
a hint of the latter’s Resurrection Symphony – rebirth
after the death of Stalin? After all, the second movement
is supposed to represent Stalin. My allegiance to Neeme Järvi
remains unshaken (CHAN8630, with Ballet Suite No.4). Nevertheless,
these are very worthwhile interpretations, well recorded.
Ashkenazy’s tempi generally match Järvi’s fairly closely
and the RPO play well. The rather slow tempo for the opening
of the first movement allows a build-up of the sense that
a great revelation is imminent – one Soviet writer described
this as ‘Faustian’ – and the energy of the second movement
is well conveyed. The third movement, allegretto,
is almost two minutes faster than Järvi. Both capture the
dance-like elements of this movement very well; Ashkenazy
is, if anything, slightly perkier. Both hold back rather
too much at the points where the dance rhythm sinks below
the surface. In the finale, both Järvi and Ashkenazy convey
the sense of joy at the death of the monster and apprehension
at what might replace him; I well remember the foreboding,
even in the West, at what might happen after the death of ‘Uncle
Joe’. D-S-C-H, Shostakovich’s own musical motif, does eventually
join the dance, but hesitantly, in a rather awkward and lumpish
fashion.
Whatever version
of the Tenth you buy, avoid the absurdly over-praised Rahbari
on Naxos. I am sorry to seem hyper-critical of Naxos recordings
of Shostakovich; let me make amends by praising their recordings
of the string quartets. Though even there the Regis versions
by the Shostakovich Quartet now rather outshine them, in
the same lowest-price category.
The Eleventh
and Twelfth are both programmatic symphonies, based on events
connected with the Russian Revolution. No.11 depicts the
events of 1905, when Tsarist troops fired on unarmed demonstrators.
It is, therefore, at one level, what Rob Cowan describes
in his notes for the Rozdestvensky recording as “fiercely
patriotic”, but there may also be a sub-theme which links
the victims of Tsarist oppression with those of Stalin. The
new Decca notes steer clear of this possible sub-theme, other
than to say that Shostakovich hoped that the symphony would
speak to people’s present condition, but the original notes
made much of it, citing Ashkenazy’s own belief that it was
a grand indictment of Soviet tyranny.
In the opening
movement Ashkenazy captures the sense of hushed expectancy
as the crowd waits in the Palace Square, but Rozhdestvensky
(Olympia, deleted) allows himself much more space here – 18:01
against Ashkenazy’s 14:33 – to the music’s advantage. Indeed,
throughout the symphony, Rozhdestvensky’s timings are much
broader, but this does not prevent his offering a dramatic
performance. In the second movement, depicting the troops
gunning down the workers, he again allows himself almost
four minutes more elbow-room but the cinematic effect of
the music – the equivalent of the scene in the film of Dr
Zhivago where the crowd is brutally dispersed – is not
diminished. Ashkenazy is just that little bit less cinematic,
though the St Petersburg Orchestra plays well and his recording
is, of course, better than Rozhdestvensky’s.
No.12, dedicated
to the memory of Lenin, is also programmatic, though more
loosely than No.11. It is not one of Shostakovich’s more ‘difficult’ works
and it is unlikely that many will find Ashkenazy’s straightforward
performance objectionable. In this symphony the sound on
the Rozhdestvensky/Olympia is definitely inferior to the
Ashkenazy: unreconstructed Melodiya against Decca is no contest.
Tempi are broadly similar to Rozhdestvensky’s, given that
Decca and Olympia choose different places to make the break
between tracks 1 and 2. (The movements follow each other
without break.) Once again, Ashkenazy is marginally less
willing to ‘go for broke’ but I did not hear the lack of
conviction which one reviewer of the original issue heard:
he sounds convinced enough, for example, at the transition
from the third movement and throughout the fourth.
Like the Fourth,
the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Symphonies both come in new
versions with the NHK Orchestra. In No.13 Askenazy’s tempi
are, as usual, significantly faster than Rozhdestvensky’s:
the opening movement, the setting of Yevtushenko’s poem Babi
Yar, which has given its name to the whole symphony,
more than two minutes shorter than from Rozhdestvensky, whose
slower pace again pays dividends right from the start. The
baritone soloist is effective but Rozhdestvensky’s darker-voiced
bass would probably have outshone him if he had not been
so distantly recorded, albeit that this was a DDD recording.
The Nikikai Chorus Group sounds a little undernourished but
so does Rozhdestvensky’s chorus because of the distant recording.
One plus for the new version is that it reverts to the original
texts, not the modified versions which the Soviet authorities
demanded, but ultimately, like so many of the symphonies
in this set, I found it just a little under-powered. Listening
on headphones brings a few unwelcome noises-off. Barshai,
as usual, offers a feasible alternative at the lowest price,
on Regis RRC1102.
No.14 is rather
more effective: the slight loss of drama is made up for by
the quality of the playing and the strength of the interpretation.
Joan Rogers may not be the best-known soprano in the business
but her singing here is very effective. As in No.13, the
baritone soloist is outsung by the bass on the Rozhdestvensky/Olympia,
much better recorded this time.
This disc would
be very short value if it were offered on its own. The Olympia
recording coupled it with the King Lear fragments
and Decca’s own Haitink recording adds even more, the Tsvetaeva
Poems; surely they could have found a worthwhile filler
here.
The Fifteenth
is another of Shostakovich’s enigmas: the repeated quotations
from Rossini’s William Tell Overture, the first occurring
out of the blue early in the first movement, and the later
quotations from Wagner have never been fully explained. I
confess that I have not yet found a way into this work. Rob
Cowan’s notes to the Olympia recording are probably right
to suggest that we are meant to be unsettled by this symphony,
not to come to terms with it. The comparative paucity of
single-CD couplings of this symphony suggests that the record-buying
public in general have yet to come to terms with it. You
may find it helpful to read some of Bruce Hodges’ analysis here
on Musicweb Seen and Heard in his review of a Gergiev
performance of the 15th.
Ashkenazy offers
a very good performance, but it is Rozhdestvensky again who
comes closer to giving me a key to unlock the Fifteenth.
The greater weight which the latter gives to the Adagio pays
dividends: though this version is almost three minutes longer,
it is actually the Ashkenazy version which seems to drag
in places – and again in parts of the finale, though I rather
think that is Shostakovich’s fault (or mine). The RPO offer
good support, and the recording is clearly superior to the
Olympia. I have seen Ashkenazy’s Fifteenth praised for its
refusal to emphasise the miserable moments but surely they
are part of the point of this symphony.
The notes in
the booklet by Timothy Day are informative and helpful. They
replace the original notes by Ian MacDonald, some of which
certain reviewers found tendentious.
I expected
to enjoy this excursion through the symphonies of Shostakovich
but, in the end, it has been more onerous than I anticipated.
Some have welcomed this middle-of-the-road Ashkenazy set
with (almost) open arms and I have mostly enjoyed the performances,
but I have found sometimes myself much more out of sorts
with the music than I expected. Ashkenazy has not helped
me to come to terms with Nos. 14 and 15 and he has sometimes
left me wanting a firmer direction in other symphonies. I’m
not sure how much the fault is Ashkenazy’s: there is very
little that is actually wrong with this set, but I have,
in the main, derived more pleasure from listening to my existing
versions. When my preferences are mostly for Olympia CDs
which are no longer available, I’m afraid that is little
help, so I shall try to be more useful.
Decca’s Haitink
set remains competitive, as do cheaper alternatives from
Rostropovich (Warner 2564 64177 2, 12 CDs for around £45
in the UK), Jansons (EMI 3 65 300 2, 10 CDs at around £35)
and Barshai (Brilliant Classics 6275, 11 CDs at around £35:
see review and
follow links at the end of that review to other Musicweb
reviews of this set. NB: it also exists in a different format
as Brilliant Classics 6324 – check before purchase.) Rob
Barnett recommended the Kondrashin when it appeared briefly
on the Aulos label; this set is now available on Melodiya
(MELCD1001065). Rob’s review and
Dominy Clements’ of the Melodiya
reissue should be read as supplementing my own round-up.
All the single CDs of the Järvi recordings on Chandos are
recommendable and individual CDs from the Haitink set on
Eloquence at bargain price are good value: Nos. 5 and 9 are
on 467 478-2 and No.8 on 467 465-2. Caveat emptor:
these two CDs are available both at mid-price and at bargain
price on Eloquence; all you lose with the cheaper versions
are the notes.
Brian Wilson
Disc details CD1 [63:33]
Symphony No.1 in F minor Op.10 (1926) [32:20]
Symphony No.6 in B minor Op.54 (1939) [31:12]
rec. Walthamstow Assembly Hall, London, November 1988 CD2 [72:00]
Festival Overture Op.96 (1947? 1954?) [5:53]
October Op.131 (1967) [12:38]
Symphony No.2 in B Op.14 (1927) ‘To October’ [17:04]
The Song of the Forests Op.81 (1949) [36:30]
Mikhail Kotliarov (tenor), Nikita
Storojev (bass)
Brighton Festival Chorus, New London Children’s Choir
rec. Walthamstow Assembly Hall, London, January 1989, October 1991 (Forests) CD3 [69:48]
Symphony No.12 in D minor Op.112 ‘The Year 1917’ (1961) [41:18]
rec. Walthamstow Assembly Hall, London, April 1992
Symphony No.3 in E flat Op.20 ‘The First of May’ (1929) [28:30]
The Bach Choir CD4 [61:11]
Symphony No.4 in C minor Op.43 (1935-6) [61:11]
rec. Suntory Hall, Tokyo, 8-9 March 2006 CD5 [56:42]
Symphony No.5 in D minor Op.47 (1937) [45:43]
Five Fragments Op.42 [8:58]
rec. Walthamstow Assembly Hall, London, March 1987
CD6 [70:21]
Shostakovich’s Broadcast from Wartime Leningrad [0:54]
Symphony No.7 in C Op.60 ‘Leningrad’ (1941) [69:27]
rec. Great Hall of St Petersburg Philharmonia, May 1995 CD7 [65:57]
Funeral and Triumphal Prelude Op.130 (1967) [2:44]
Symphony No.8 in C minor Op.65 (1943) [60:30]
Novorosiisk Chimes (1960) [2:43]
rec. Walthamstow Assembly Hall, London, October 1991 CD8 [74:47]
Chamber Symphony in C minor Op.110a (String Quartet No.8, 1960, arr. Barshai)
[23:05]
rec. Walthamstow Assembly Hall, London, January 1989
Symphony No.10 in E minor Op.93 (1953) [51:43] CD9 [55:23]
Symphony No.11 in G minor Op.103 ‘The Year 1905’ (1957) [55:23]
rec. Great Hall of
St Petersburg Philharmonia, November 1994
CD10[54:12]
Symphony No.13 in B flat minor Op.113 ‘Babi Yar’ (1962) [54:12]
Sergei Koptchak (baritone)
Nikikai Chorus Group
rec. NHK Hall, Tokyo, 19 October 2000 CD11[50:22]
Joan Rodgers (soprano), Sergei Koptchak (baritone)
Symphony No.14 Op.135 (1969) [50:12]
rec. Meguro Persimmon Hall,
Tokyo, 27-29 June, 2006
CD12 [64:54]
Symphony No.9 in E flat Op.70 (1949)
rec. Walthamstow Assembly Hall, London, January 1989
Symphony No.15 in A Op.141 (1971)
rec. Walthamstow Assembly Hall, London, November 1990