Shostakovich’s Eighth Symphony, improbably composed in only
two months during July and August 1943, is perhaps the most complex
of the fifteen in terms of emotion and mood. In an interview in September
of the same year, the composer said the work contained “ …
many inner conflicts, both tragic and dramatic. On the whole, it is
an optimistic, life-affirming work … Everything that is dark
and gloomy will rot away, vanish, and the beautiful will triumph.”
How little of the real story these words recount!
This performance gets off to a slightly tentative start, especially
when compared to studio recordings where retakes are possible, in
the opening dotted rhythms akin to those that launch the Fifth Symphony.
Thereafter, Rozhdestvensky shapes this 24-minute odyssey with masterly
control. At the twelve minute mark fearsome horn playing heralds what
is only the beginning of the movement’s massive climax, which
then proceeds with shattering power. The playing of the long, meandering
cor anglais solo that follows must be described as inspired, the player
seemingly possessed by the music, especially as it rises to the instrument’s
highest register. I never cease to be amazed that a player is able
to continue, after such a solo passage, and participate in the rest
of the work. I should be so drained that half an hour’s lie-down,
at the very least, would be needed. Are the relative high spirits
of the first theme of the second movement - the first of two scherzos
- really quite so false, quite so forced, as they seem, or is it just
that one knows what is coming? What is coming is the second scherzo,
something like the scherzo of the Tenth Symphony, but even more unrelenting
in its brutal, onward march. The trumpet playing in what might be
termed the trio section is a miracle of double and triple tonguing;
if the mood allowed it you’d want to cheer as you listen. Words
are inadequate to describe the brilliance of this playing, and the
whole orchestra can be similarly praised, though few instances are
quite so spectacular. The slow passacaglia follows without a break,
a rather inscrutable movement, but one in which the overarching mood
of uncertain calm is superbly sustained by these performers. And then
how cruel of the composer to present us with a little dose of watery
sunshine at the outset of the finale whilst keeping in reserve the
most shattering, most disillusioned climax of all. We should have
known, though: the last half minute or so of the fourth movement serves
as a chilling warning. This climax, like so many in Shostakovich,
has been described as crude, and so it is, in truth. Percussion crescendos
ending with huge, crashing dissonances are not, let it be said, particularly
subtle. But the placing is crucial, and only those allergic to this
kind of naked emotion will be left indifferent.
I have listened to this live performance three times and have noticed
no major mishaps. This is, in itself, a kind of miracle. The very
fact that it is a live performance brings a special intensity that
grips the listener. Rozhdestvensky, a quixotic and unpredictable conductor,
clearly inspired the superb musicians of the LPO to give of their
best on that occasion, and, not for the first time, I marvel at the
sheer resilience of orchestral players who are able to pour their
hearts and minds into a work so taxing in every respect, emotionally,
physically, and then pass an hour or two in the pub before going home.
This performance compares in intensity to live Shostakovich performances
from Mravinsky, say, but there is no point in comparing it to any
of the studio recordings. They are, most of them, pin-neat - and,
many of them, superbly effective - but this one is special, a performance
that never lets go, as far as the composer’s mysterious, equivocal
conclusions.
The recording, by the BBC and presumably broadcast, is only fair when
set beside what we now expect. There are a few strange perspectives,
and a little background hiss. The percussion threatens to overwhelm
the microphones at the biggest climaxes, of which there several. There
are a very few coughs from the audience, but there is no applause
and no noise between movements. In any event, none of this matters
beside the importance of this performance of one of the greatest symphonies
of the twentieth century. Lindsay Kemp, in an excellent booklet note,
observes that the work’s message is “far from being …
clear cut” and that “optimism … seems for the most
part to struggle just to survive.”
William Hedley
Masterwork Index: Shostakovich
8
