Much has been written
on the programmatic content of Shostakovich’s
11th Symphony, so I won’t
go into it in any detail now. The piece
has its critics, but there is no denying
its atmosphere and grim sense of purpose.
Oleg Caetani is not a name you would
immediately associate with a whole programme
of Shostakovich, but he studied in Moscow
with Kyrill Kondrashin, and by the showing
on this disc he seems to know his stuff.
[He has also recorded several of the
Shostakovich symphonies for the German
company Arts. Ed.]
With the market now
replete with different versions of Shostakovich’s
symphonies I am delighted to be able
to say that one need not compromise
by choosing this recording. Audience
noise is acceptably low, and the Melbourne
Symphony Orchestra sound suitably Russian
– the vibrato from the principal trumpet
seeming entirely appropriate here. There
is a potent sense of menace in the growling
bass lines, and moments of climax are
well handled – just listen to the build
up from 11:52 into 9th
of January until the end of the
drums at 15:58 and then ask yourself
if you’ve ever heard it played quite
so hair-raisingly: the rising brass
lines from 13:36 are a nightmarish tour
de force!
Somebody else who knows
his stuff is Rudolf Barshai, and it
is his recording with the WDR Sinfonieorchester
on the bargain Brilliant Classics label
which I used as a sort of ‘control’.
It’s a tricky toss-up, with Barshai
perhaps being slightly more compact
and convincing in some of the quieter
moments. I find Caetani’s lower strings
in the in memoriam a little too
distant and indistinct – Barshai’s if
anything slightly too close and thumpy,
though I must admit I do like a solid
bass pizzicato. The MSO beats the WDR
for intonation in the tricky low brass
and wind section later on in this movement,
and the Australians manage to make a
Hollywood tear-jerker of the long crescendo,
before jack-booted drums once again
put the lid firmly on such sentimentality.
The final alarm bell in Tocsin is
another point of reference in two excellent
versions of the final movement. Barshai’s
tuned bells ring out defiantly and refuse
to lie down when everyone else has finished,
Caetani’s stick out slightly less but
sound a little more natural, and any
further kitchen department noises are
drowned by ecstatic applause.
Having had such a marvellous
dramatic feast of revolutionary fervour,
we are granted a brace of lollipops
as comfort food. Everyone should have
the Jazz suite No.1 in Gennady Rozhdestvensky’s
USSR Melodia version (once available
on a BMG ‘twofer’), and indeed, the
poor slide guitar player can in no way
match the Russian solo, which I always
play if I really need cheering
up. The performance in general is good
however, with restrained saxophones,
witty percussion and eloquent brass.
The foxtrot is a little slow for my
taste, which might be another reason
why the slide-guitar is made to sweat
a little more than is necessary.
Never mind, we are
also treated to a number I hadn’t heard
before: Shostakovich’s arrangement of
Strauss’s Excursion Train Polka.
This is of course fluff with which
to entertain the likes of Stalin, but
there are nice touches, such as the
tick-tock percussion and impertinent
xylophone which are typical Shostakovich
fingerprints. As an encore it provides
a fitting close to a hugely entertaining
disc – unhesitatingly recommended.
Dominy Clements
Melbourne Symphony Orchestra/Oleg Caetani 
