Dmitri SHOSTAKOVICH (1906-1975)
Symphony No. 11 in G minor, Op. 103, “The Year 1905” (1957) [63:41]
Netherlands Radio Philharmonic Orchestra/Mark Wigglesworth
rec. Music Centre for Dutch Radio and Television, Hilversum, The Netherlands,
March 2006
BIS BIS-SACD-1583 [63:41]
Shostakovich’s Eleventh Symphony commemorates the abortive Russian popular
revolution of 1905, and more particularly the massacre of more than a thousand
peaceful demonstrators gathered in front of the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg
on 9 January of that year. Mark Wigglesworth, in his thoughtful and readable
booklet note, informs us that Shostakovich’s father was present. Shostakovich
studies are controversial and divided, and the appearance in 1979 of Testimony,
purported to be the composer’s memoirs as related to Solomon Volkov, only
fanned the flames of uncertainty. This is not the place to discuss this –
and I don’t feel qualified to do so – but Wigglesworth reminds us that, according
to Volkov, the uprising of 1905 was a frequent topic of family conversation
when Shostakovich was a child. He seems to have been uncertain as to how to
proceed when he received an official commission for a work commemorating the
event. Did the uprising in Hungary against the policies of the Russian-imposed
government provoke a reaction from him? There were certainly depressing parallels
between the events in St Petersburg in 1905 and those in Budapest in 1956,
and Shostakovich would surely have been profoundly moved by what happened.
The work was rapturously received, and was later awarded a Lenin Prize, so
the authorities were apparently untroubled by any hidden meaning. The composer’s
son, Maxim, thought otherwise: “Father, what if they hang you for this?”
The symphony lasts for more than an hour, in four linked movements. The first,
entitled “Palace Square”, depicts the uneasy calm of the crowd before the
massacre, frozen to the bone; the second, the rising tension followed by the
massacre itself. The third movement is entitled “In memoriam”, and is a poignant
threnody for the dead, whilst the fourth, entitled “Alarm” in my score, but
generally referred to as “The Tocsin”, celebrates the courage and steadfastness
of those who died, as well as encouraging further resistance and struggle.
The work has been criticised for being little more than glorified film music.
The use throughout of Russian revolutionary songs can be cited to support
the accusation that it is musically lightweight, and there is no doubt that
the events are depicted with startling clarity. Little happens, musically
speaking, in the first movement – its sixteen minutes require only twenty-seven
of the score’s 328 pages – but the deathly chill and sense of ominous foreboding
are uncanny. Without it, or with a foreshortened movement, the drama of what
follows would surely have been minimised. The violence in the second movement
is searing and retains its power to shock even after many hearings, and the
determination of the people – grim rather than jubilant – is brilliantly portrayed
in the finale.
Let me say at once that this performance goes straight into the list of the
very finest available. The orchestra is magnificent, and the recording is
well up to the standards we have come to expect from Bis, though you will
have to turn the volume well up in order to hear every detail in the quieter
passages. The conductor’s booklet note is a distinct plus in my view, so much
more worthwhile than any amount of pretentious musicological rubbish. And
then there is his way with the work itself. He presents it with total conviction
as a masterpiece of symphonic writing. There is a coherence and logic about
the way the work unfolds here that not all conductors have been able to find.
One consequence of this is that some passages are less immediately dramatic
than in some other readings. The massacre itself, for example, stunning in
this version, lacks the near-hysterical quality found in Rostropovich’s reading
with the London Symphony Orchestra. This is no bad thing in my view, and in
any case would only be evident in straight comparative listening. Heard on
its own terms there is no lack of drama in Wigglesworth’s reading. Just listen
to those screaming piccolos in this movement, to the wonderfully reedy bassoons
throughout, to the stunning side-drum playing as the instrument launches the
massacre, to the ferocious unanimity of the lower strings as the passage gets
underway, and at just the right tempo. The slow trombone and tuba glissandi
a little later are unspeakably horrifying. No, the drama is there all right,
but tempo relations are carefully managed, orchestral textures and dynamics
skilfully balanced, allowing the work to emerge as a coherent whole, a single,
brilliantly executed canvass. This is maintained as far as the hollow victory
of the final page, where the conductor – in an apparently minority view –
respects the score by cutting the final bell/cymbal/gong notes at the same
time as the rest of the orchestra. I could go on. It would be remiss, for
example, not to mention the marvellous cor anglais playing, so bleak, so sad,
yet so terribly eloquent and noble, in the long passage before the coda of
the final movement.
I think this is a marginally finer performance than Petrenko’s rightly praised
reading with the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra on Naxos. It makes
out a more convincing case for the work in purely musical terms. It does,
however, cost quite a lot more. I certainly think it a finer performance than
that of Rostropovich, for reasons alluded to above. Testament have a performance
from André Cluytens with the French National Radio Orchestra. Recorded in
1958, this is a reading of white-hot intensity, and those who admire this
symphony should not be without it. They should also try to find a copy of
a disc issued free last year with the BBC Music Magazine. Kirill Karabits
conducts the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra in a very fine performance indeed,
live from the Lighthouse in Poole. It is seriously marred, though, by one
thing: present on the night, sadly for this rest of us, was the most idiotic,
selfish, arrogant bravo-shouter I have ever heard. I hope he’s reading this.
William Hedley
See also review
by Dan Morgan March RECORDING
OF THE MONTH
A magnificently cogent reading of a frequently misunderstood modern masterpiece
… see Full Review