RECORDING OF THE MONTH
Dmitri SHOSTAKOVICH (1906-1975)
Symphony No 11 in G minor The Year 1905 (1957)
Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra/Yevgeny Mravinsky
rec. 1959
REGIS RRC1387 [60:22]
This reissue takes us right back to one of Shostakovich’s most authoritative
interpreters. Yevgeny Mravinsky (1903-1988) gave the first performances of no
fewer than six Shostakovich symphonies - numbers 5, 6, 8, 9, 10 and 12 - and
though he didn’t lead the première of the Eleventh symphony, he
performed it in Leningrad on 3 November 1957, just four days after it had been
unveiled in Moscow. Regis give no information about the date of the recording
beyond stating that it was “first published in 1961”. However, in
his very informative notes Gavin Dixon says that this recording was set down
in 1959, presumably for the Melodiya label.
As you might expect, given that the source is a Soviet recording made over fifty
years ago, the sound is on the raw side at times. However, I found nothing in
the sound that detracted from the performance; on the contrary, the sound plays
its part in imparting a sense of the history of the piece itself. Because the
symphony was first performed in 1957 and because it was inspired by the unsuccessful
revolution of 1905 in Russia it’s often been thought that it may be the
composer’s response to the suppression of the 1956 Hungarian uprising.
It’s possible that that is indeed the case - at least up to a point. However
Gavin Dixon tells us that the symphony was originally intended to mark the 50th
anniversary of the 1905 uprising but that personal preoccupations prevented
Shostakovich from finishing it on schedule though he had made a good deal of
progress on the work before the tumultuous events in Hungary.
If there was a subversive political agenda behind the work Shostakovich managed
to cover his tracks well: the work was a conspicuous success both with the public
and with officialdom and it was awarded the Lenin Prize in 1958.
Mravinsky leads an imposing performance. The first movement, ‘The Palace
Square’, opens in what I can only call glacial expectancy though the rather
close recording doesn’t allow the orchestra to sound as hushed as is the
case on, say, Vasily Petrenko’s 2008 Naxos recording or, indeed, James
DePriest’s very eloquent 1988 reading with the Helsinki Philharmonic on
Delos; both of those are modern digital recordings. However, any sonic limitations
are more than offset by the brooding intensity and tension that Mravinsky generates.
Furthermore, even when playing quietly, the Leningrad orchestra plays with significant
weight of tone. I think this must be a very difficult movement for a conductor
to bring off since it’s all about atmosphere rather than development;
but Mravinsky never lets the music sag.
In the graphic second movement, ‘The 9th of January’,
Mravinsky whips up a real storm at times and there’s huge power in the
playing. The orchestral sound features the traditional Russian brass timbres,
which have now largely vanished from the scene. Indeed, there’s a raw
edge to the orchestral sound - not to be confused with crudity - that’s
really appropriate for this music. During the string fugue (from 10:46) the
players really dig in and the playing has tremendous intensity. The performance
is viscerally exciting and a very Russian sound - occasionally blaring - is
produced. The percussion-dominated climax (from 13:15) has burning urgency -
the pace is frenetic - and really does sound like fusillades of shots. At 14:25
the music cuts off abruptly - and Mravinsky’s cut-off is razor sharp -
before a pianissimo return to material from the first movement. This passage
is quite chilling; the protesting crowds of 1905 have been dispersed - or cut
down.
The third movement, ‘Eternal Memory’, stems from an extended melody
- a lament for the fallen - which begins on the violas. Mravinsky builds this
movement impressively, achieving an impassioned main climax (from 7:32). The
finale, ‘The Tocsin’, is something of an enigma. Superficially it
sounds like a musical depiction of a triumph for Soviet Socialist Realism; but
is it? As Gavin Dixon points out, the bells that feature in this movement alternate
between major and minor but end on the minor. To my ears, it’s
in some ways the weakest movement in the work but here it is given a scalding
performance. The brass playing has raw power and there’s a towering climax
before, once again, the music sinks back into another reprise of the glacial
material from the first movement. This presages an extended, bleak threnody
for cor anglais. Mravinsky takes this very broadly. His cor anglais player offers
doleful eloquence and this passage is a true lament, again indicating this is
no mere triumphalist movement - if there is triumph it’s been hard won.
After the lament the music picks up speed once again and becomes very dramatic;
the bass drum thwacks sound like cannon shots. The conclusion is blazing and
biting.
This is a great performance of a symphony that I’ve long felt is underrated
in the Shostakovich canon. In view of a
recent discussion on the MusicWeb International Message Board I thought
it would be interesting to compare this Mravinsky recording with the aforementioned
Vasily Petrenko recording on Naxos, not least because these two recordings will
compete at about the same price point. The Petrenko disc wasn’t one of
those that I have appraised for MusicWeb International but I bought it and think
it has much to commend it though I know it attracted some contrasting verdicts
among my colleagues (review
and review).
David Barker felt it stood up well amid the competition when he compiled his
Eleven
11s survey. It should be noted, however, that this Mravinsky account wasn’t
available to David at the time.
At the risk of making an obvious point, the Naxos recording (2008) is sonically
superior to the sound that the Soviet engineers produced for Mravinsky fifty-one
years before. Significantly, the Naxos recording registers genuine pp
playing; the Mravinsky recording does not. Yet even here matters aren’t
quite that straightforward. The less refined and closer Melodiya sound imparts
an immediacy that’s at one with Mravinsky’s interpretation. Some
may feel, as I tend to do, that the Naxos sound has the Liverpool orchestra
set a bit too far back. The playing in the Petrenko performance is assured and
technically excellent but it’s arguable that it’s a bit too smooth.
For instance, I mentioned the fugal passage for strings in I. Petrenko’s
orchestra, well though they play, are nowhere near the level of hair-raising
intensity of Mravinsky’s superbly drilled Leningrad Philharmonic. Wind
forward a little in the same movement and Petrenko is impressive in the extended
climax section but he doesn’t achieve the electrifying urgency of Mravinsky,
nor is his cut-off after the climax quite as abrupt as the effect that the older
conductor achieves. Mravinsky’s interpretation of I is appreciably more
spacious than Petrenko’s; he takes nearly two minutes longer. In IV the
most telling comparison lies in the cor anglais passage I mentioned earlier.
Mravinsky takes appreciably longer than Petrenko over this passage (from 8:39
to 12:10); in the newer recording it’s over half a minute shorter (8:34
to 11:34). The Liverpool cor anglais player, who plays most expressively, is
more integrated into the overall orchestral texture, which some may prefer;
the Russian player is rather in a spotlight. On the other hand, the relative
distancing of the Naxos recording lessens the intensity, I feel. One final detail.
At the very end of IV Petrenko allows the bell chime to continue resonating
after the rest of the orchestra has fallen silent: Mravinsky does not.
After auditioning these two performances side by side I came to the following
conclusions. Petrenko’s recording has much to commend it and I shall not
lightly discard it; it makes a good bargain-priced choice, if a safe one. However,
Mravinsky offers the less cultivated but surely authentic experience. This is
an interpretation of the time in which the symphony appeared and, moreover,
it’s by one of Shostakovich’s greatest interpreters. Mravinsky offers
an interpretation of raw power which confronts the listener. I think I’d
sum up the comparison by suggesting that Petrenko plays the symphony but Mravinsky
lives it. This is one of those recordings that’s an essential element
in any Shostakovich collection.
John Quinn
One of those recordings that’s an essential element in any Shostakovich
collection.