A Shostakovich Enigma
Vasily Petrenko’s Shostakovich cycle marches on. This is volume
seven. I presume there are four more to follow as and when Petrenko
sets down the Fourth Symphony – to which I’m particularly looking
forward – and numbers 7, 13 and 14.
This latest instalment pairs symphonies from the opposite chronological
ends of the composer’s symphonic output. Number 2 was written
to mark the tenth anniversary of the 1917 Revolution. Perhaps
ominously – in terms of potential for artistic merit – it was
commissioned by the Propaganda Division of the State Music Publishers’
Section. Interestingly, Richard Whitehouse relates in his notes
that, initially, the work was not designated as a symphony;
Shostakovich only took that step, it seems, a couple of years
later. The work is in one continuous movement and in the last
six minutes or so an SATB chorus is introduced. Their task is
to deliver the four-stanza poem by one Alexander Bezimensky
(1898-1973). Richard Whitehouse describes him as an “’official’
proletarian poet” but if this is a fair example of his work
the term “party hack” might be more appropriate. Clearly, Shostakovich
had no say in the choice of text and, apparently, he didn’t
think much of it.
Richard Whitehouse observes that the symphony was composed during
the most overtly modernist phase of his career. One might suggest
that the term “brutalist” might also fairly apply to this score.
Naxos helpfully split the piece into three separate tracks and
these are reflected in the liner-notes. Shostakovich can be
a forbidding composer at times but in this score we find him
at his most experimental and intractable. For a start there
are virtually no melodic themes in it – the trumpet tune that
appears a couple of minutes into the score is more or less the
only melody, as Whitehouse points out. Given the absence of
themes it’s perhaps unsurprising that I struggle to discern
any sort of development in the conventional sense. For example,
I find it hard to see what relation the first five or six minutes
of the score (track 1) bear to the music that follows, except
as an unrelated introduction, perhaps. The music that opens
the second section (track 2) is reminiscent of parts of the
First Symphony. As this section unfolds the music becomes ever
more strident. After a solo violin passage the texture becomes
increasingly complex but it’s hard to see what all the activity
signifies. Hereabouts the playing of the RLPO is tremendously
vigorous and earlier, when the music was stirring to life from
very subdued beginnings, there was no little finesse to the
playing. So far as I can tell the performance is also very precise.
It would be kind to describe the words of the concluding choral
section as banal; the poem is unmitigated Revolutionary tosh!
Shostakovich “rewards” the poet with choral writing of no great
distinction; these final minutes are brash and boldly coloured
but, to be honest, one feels it’s a case of sound and fury signifying
nothing. It’s richly ironic that when Shostakovich produced
the sort of music that the authorities expected he wrote such
stuff as this but when he composed music that was not
in keeping with official expectations – in the Sixth or Eighth
Symphonies, for instance – he produced his finest work. Vasily
Petrenko and his orchestra – and choir – do their best for the
score and give a colourful and committed account of it but,
really, this is base metal. I find it perplexing, to say the
least, to trace Shostakovich’s development as a symphonist from
the precocious First Symphony through to the magnificent, complex
Fourth. Indeed, the Second and Third Symphonies don’t really
seem to offer much in the way of a bridge between those two
tremendous scores.
I find the Fifteenth Symphony just as perplexing but in a very
different way. Just what was Shostakovich saying this late score?
What was going on behind that impassive face and those slightly
owlish thick spectacles? A troubled spirit, it would seem, but
what was troubling him?
One of the great enigmas of this score lies in the use made
of quotations. Shostakovich made use of self-quotation in his
music but to the best of my knowledge it was rare for him to
quote other composers. Yet here, in what turned out to be his
last symphony, we find him quoting from two composers – and
from two radically different composers at that – as well as
from himself.
The first movement opens deceptively with perky material on
flute and then bassoon. The opening pages are reminiscent of
the Ninth Symphony it seems to me. Then, at 1:57 the trumpet
plays a familiar motif from Rossini’s William Tell
overture. The Rossini motif has been foreshadowed in the moments
leading up to its first appearance – the first of several in
the movement – but what is the meaning? I confess I’m far from
sure except to note that the motif is of a piece with Shostakovich’s
characteristic sardonic streak and that, though the fragment
of tune stands out every time we hear it, it is well integrated
into the composer’s own material. The music becomes increasingly
urgent, alarmed and, indeed, strident in tone and the reappearances
of the Rossini quote seem to act as a brake on proceedings and
to bring the music back to a less stressful, more insouciant
level. Throughout this movement, whatever the mood of the music,
the playing of the RLPO is crisp and characterful.
The second movement takes us to an altogether deeper level –
though in saying that I don’t wish to imply that the first movement
is superficial; it’s not. The Adagio opens with a brass chorale,
which recurs at intervals as the movement unfurls. I think it’s
hugely significant that this chorale is taken from the opening
movement, The Palace Square, of the Eleventh Symphony,
a work that I still think has yet to receive its full recognition
within the composer’s output. It will be remembered that the
Eleventh commemorates the failed Russian Revolution of 1905.
The chorale is followed by extended glacial passages in which
cello and viola solos are prominent. Here we are in the world
of the string quartets. This is spare, searching music that
has the character of a threnody. Petrenko and his players are
excellent in maintaining the tension in these sparsely scored
paragraphs, a virtue I admired
in their traversal of the first movement of the Sixth Symphony.
Eventually (at 6:50) we hear an idea on the flutes but it’s
not until this is taken up at some length by a solo trombone
that it becomes clear that this is a funeral march. Eventually
(at 11:01) the march erupts almost out of nothing into a huge
climax. When this is spent the chorale returns, firstly on hushed
strings and then on the brass. Now, I think, having experienced
the funeral march we perhaps understand the significance of
the quotation form the Eleventh. Is it that Shostakovich had
unfinished business with the failed revolutionaries of 1905?
Is he saying in this movement that those revolutionaries were
betrayed by the Stalinist excesses in the years that followed
the successful revolution of 1917?
The third movement, which follows attacca, is extremely
brief. Richard Whitehouse rightly draws attention to the “barbed
humour”. This is real nose-thumbing, sneering music and it’s
adroitly done by Petrenko’s orchestra which offers some suitably
pungent playing. Unless my ears deceive me the horns make a
reference to the old DSCH motif one last time in a Shostakovich
symphony.
The finale brings us the quotations from a second composer:
Wagner. Right at the start the low brass intone the ‘fate’ motif
from Die Walküre, followed by the soft timpani tattoo
from Siegfried’s Funeral Music in Götterdämmerung.
A few moments later (at 1:07) there’s surely another Wagner
reference. The violins have an extended melody and as a kind
of upbeat to it they play the same three notes with which Tristan
begins. It’s possible that this is a coincidence but I don’t
think so. The melody itself is described by Richard Whitehouse
as “graceful”. I know what he means but I’m not sure that description
is the full story: it sounds to me to be a spectral kind of
grace; as so often with Shostakovich ambiguity is everywhere.
This long, winding violin theme serves as the impetus for much
of the content of the succeeding paragraphs. After another appearance
of the ‘fate’ motif (5:28) what is at first a ghostly passacaglia
begins. The music grows in temperature and intensity until a
substantial climax is reached (10:08). This is another – and
the last – of Shostakovich’s trademark towering symphonic climaxes
and in it I hear definite echoes – grim ones – of the Leningrad
Symphony. After the climax has subsided the music becomes wan
and lean again; here the playing of the RLPO is once again most
effective. The ending is enigmatic; the soft, tintinnabulating
percussion over soft string chords recalls the conclusion of
the Fourth Symphony, albeit the passage is longer this time.
With a soft bell chime Shostakovich writes finis to
his canon of symphonies.
The Fifteenth is a difficult symphony, not because its language
is difficult in the way that the language of the Second is gratuitously
difficult. It’s difficult because it’s so hard to grasp what
are the composer’s intentions. I bought Maxim Shostakovich’s
1972 première recording when it came out – I still have the
LP – and yet, even after all these years I’m not confident that
I fully comprehend this elusive piece. I am sure, however,
that it’s a fine and expressive composition and it’s the work
of a mature and highly experienced symphonist whereas the Second
is the work of a young, iconoclastic innovator. I don’t believe
that earlier piece is genuinely symphonic in the sense of including
any conventional development of ideas.
I doubt I shall listen often to the Second, though I’m sure
that Vasily Petrenko and his choir and orchestra serve it well.
I’m certain, however, that I shall return to this performance
of the Fifteenth which strikes
me as being excellent both in terms of the interpretation and
the execution. The Naxos sound is very good: it reports the
massive climaxes very well but conveys equally successfully
the many quiet passages, both at the start of the Second and
during the Fifteenth. As usual, Richard Whitehouse’s notes are
very good at outlining the background to the works and at describing
each score. However, it’s slightly disappointing that he doesn’t
attempt any real discussion of the quotations in the Fifteenth
beyond saying that they’re present.
This is another fine instalment in this important Shostakovich
symphony cycle and I hope we won’t have to wait too long for
the next release.
John Quinn
Dan Morgan also listended to this release and was
not so impressed:
‘A particular activity or cause that has suddenly become fashionable
or popular’ is one definition of the term ‘band-wagon’. After
hearing earlier instalments in Petrenko’s Shostakovich cycle,
starting with No. 11 – review
– I can’t understand why these performances have been so well
received. Faced with a frankly formidable list of fine alternatives
Petrenko’s readings of Shostakovich seem insignificant. Granted,
they’re outwardly exciting and well played – he’s done wonders
for the RLPO’s sound and stature – but what irks me most is
that this technical mastery seldom extends beyond the notes.
As I’d hate to be labelled a curmudgeon – surely no-one enjoys
writing a bad review – I approached this new issue
in a spirit of discovery and reassessment. Mark Wigglesworth’s
recording of the first three symphonies – review
– was still fresh in my mind, so I was particularly keen to
hear how this new version of To October compares. First
impressions are quite favourable, the level of instrumental
detail very impressive, but it doesn’t take long before old
doubts resurface. That quiet, louring introduction is devoid
of the menace of its best rivals – Mark Elder especially – and
what follows lacks the dramatic, tugging undertow that others
find here.
As for the Liverpool chorus, they sing well enough, but for
spine-tingling fervour and raw excitement Elder’s and Wigglesorth’s
choirs are unequalled; their ecstatic antiphons are uniquely
thrilling. Petrenko is just loud and showy – the recording is
very aggressive, too. The whole experience is desperately underwhelming.
This may be early Shostakovich, but that’s no excuse for such
shallow treatment. Indeed, this kind of performance just gives
succour to those who insist the composer never modulated out
of keys of crudeness and banality.
At the other end of the spectrum we have the Fifteenth Symphony,
a strange, fleet-footed work that bubbles with subversive wit
and elegant tunes. Bernard Haitink’s classic Decca account has
long been a favourite of mine. The Dutchman is at one with Shostakovich’s
musical mind-set. In his capable hands – the London Philharmonic
are in vital, virtuosic form and the work’s dark ambiguities
are readily exposed. There’s a quirkiness here, a snap and bounce,
that Petrenko only hints at. Haitink colours the music with
immense subtlety and skill. It’s not a particularly long symphony,
but this newcomer makes it seem interminable. That intensely
personal last movement is sheerly beautiful but ultimately rather
bloodless.
Alas, these performances have done nothing to persuade me of
Petrenko’s virtues in this repertoire. And it isn’t only Shostakovich,
a Proms Manfred last year exhibited all the same enervating
superficialities. Perhaps in twenty years or so he will offer
us more penetrating versions of these enigmatic, painfully human
symphonies, but for now the band-wagon will just have to roll
on without me.
Outwardly bright, inwardly dull; not remotely competitive.
Dan Morgan
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Reviews of the Petrenko Shostakovich cycle on MusicWeb International:-
Symphonies
1 and 3
Symphonies
5 and 9
Symphonies
6 and 12
Symphony
No 8
Symphony
No 10
Symphony
No 11 and an
alternative view
Masterwork Index: Symphony
2 ~~ Symphony
15
Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Choir* and Orchestra/Vasily Petrenko