It is typical of Shostakovich
that the 'meaning' of this remarkable
symphony remains equivocal. The public
references to the 1905 Revolution, which
duly earned him a Lenin Prize, hid the
work's private links to contemporary
events. In particular these related
to the abortive Hungarian Revolution,
which was so bloodily suppressed by
the occupying Soviet forces. Be that
as it may, the Symphony No. 11, like
all the best programme music, transcends
its programme and exists as a masterpiece
of symphonic integration and searing
emotional commitment.
Shostakovich composed
the work in 1957, for the fortieth anniversary
of the October Revolution. It is outwardly
based upon the tragic revolt of the
St Petersburg workers in 1905, the year
in which the disastrous defeats in the
war with Japan combined with intense
economic problems, to drive the people
to an open expression of discontent.
At the centre of the conception is an
event as notorious in Russia as the
Peterloo Massacre is in Britain: the
'Bloody Sunday' assault on the workers
who were demonstrating in the Square
of the Winter Palace. Hundreds of men,
women and children were killed.
There are four movements,
which are closely linked by the careful
symphonic integration of the material.
The first, entitled The Palace Square,
sets the scene and introduces the most
important of the musical ingredients,
a motto theme which is immediately presented
in bleak outline, with the addition
of sinister timpani patterns. The atmospheric
Linn recording and Lazarev’s steady
tempo succeed in setting the scene of
the chill surroundings. It is important
to outline this material of course,
since it will prove pervasive. The playing
of the orchestra matches this vision,
with rapt intensity and close attention
to dynamics: principal flute and trumpet
both acquit themselves with distinction.
The performance captures the remarkable
concentration of this movement, as the
impersonal atmosphere becomes obsessive.
The second movement,
9th January, follows without
pause, and relates the massacre. In
the lower strings a distinctive tune
is heard: 'Bare your heads',
from Shostakovich's own Choruses
on Revolutionary Poems (1951). As
if to portray the gathering crowd, the
tune is insistently repeated, intensifying
until the first movement's trumpet call
cuts through the texture and the conflict
turns to crisis. There is terrific intensity
at length releasing the evocation of
the infamous massacre. Here the recording
engineers are put to the test, a test
that they pass, even if the Scottish
strings can sound strained at times.
The event itself is graphically represented,
by means of the exciting rhythmic conflict
between fours and threes. Lazarev’s
tempo is insistent, his balancing of
the material well articulated without
compromising the ‘edge of the seat’
nature of the music.
When it arrives the
climax is a masterstroke, returning
suddenly to a pianissimo presentation
of the motto. Again the Linn recording
does justice to the requirements of
the dynamic range, before the trumpet
call of hope follows, as do subdued
references to other potent themes.
From these poignant
images emerges the third movement,
In Memoriam, whose slow pizzicato
pulse sets the tone for the dignified
elegy introduced by the violas. Extended
presentations of this noble Revolutionary
tune - 'You fell as victims'
- frame the movement, with a big contrasting
climax at the centre.
The finale, The
Tocsin, builds an insistent vision
that determination and hope must result
in victory. This march-like moto
perpetuo is cast in three parts:
a call to action, a meditation, and
the struggle ahead. Accordingly the
principal theme is based upon another
Revolutionary song: 'Rage, you tyrants'.
For relief there is a slow interlude,
a cor anglais lament based on the motto;
it is beautifully played in this performance.
After this the concluding phase is brief
and the more urgent for it. Shostakovich
builds a final massive and resounding
climax for the full orchestra, which
makes a suitable impact thanks to the
outstanding recording.
There is more than
one way of performing a great symphony,
of course, and in that sense the best
performance must by definition be ‘the
next one’. However, Lazarev and the
RSNO stand up as worthy members of what
is becoming a more crowded assemblage
of compelling recorded performances
of the Symphony No. 11. His tempi bring
a sense of urgency that Mstislav Rostropovich,
for one, lacks, although there is no
lack of weight when required. On the
other hand, Bernard Haitink and the
Concertgebouw have an attention to detailed
dynamics that leaves other behind, though
on the other hand there are moments,
especially in the finale, when the torch
of intensity might have burned more
brightly. On EMI Paavo Berglund and
the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra remain
a personal favourite. The sound wears
its age well and the rugged determination
of Berglund’s approach to tempi has
much to commend it, particularly in
the ‘massacre’ music. The older Russian
recordings by Mravinsky and Kondrashin
have great power and authenticity, although
in truth their sound quality is rough
and ready compared with what modern
technology can produce. There is an
excellent 1995 Russian performance,
on Chandos with the Russian State Orchestra
conducted by Valeri Polyansky, which
perhaps combines the best of all these
features.
With their highly successful
Chandos recordings with Neeme Järvi,
the Scottish National Orchestra has
a proud recording tradition in Shostakovich
(though Järvi recorded the Eleventh
for DG in Gothenberg). This well mastered
disc assumes a worthy position in that
tradition, confirming as it does the
orchestra’s standards and international
credentials.
Terry Barfoot
Royal Scottish National Orchestra/Alexander
Lazarev 
LINN
RECORDS CKD247 [60.33] 
