Dmitri SHOSTAKOVICH (1906-1975)
Symphony No. 13
in B flat minor, Op. 113, ‘Babi Yar’ (1962)
Oleg Tsibulko (bass)
Popov Academy of Choral Arts Choir, Kozhevnikov Choir
Russian National Orchestra/Kirill Karabits
rec. 2017, DZZ Studio 5, Moscow, Russia
Reviewed as a stereo DSD128 download from
NativeDSD
Pdf booklet includes sung texts in English and transliterated Russian
PENTATONE PTC 5186618 SACD
[58:13]
Shostakovich, no stranger to controversy, courted it again with his 13th
Symphony, based on five outspoken poems by Yevgeny Yevtushenko. The first,
‘Babi Yar’, published in 1961, excoriated the Soviet authorities for not
granting Holocaust Memorial status to a site, near Kyiv, where the Nazis
massacred 33,771 Jews in September 1941. (Predictably, the confrontational
text did not go down well in Moscow.) The remaining poems – ‘Humour’, ‘In
the store’, ‘Fears’ and ‘A career’ – expose the despair and drudgery of
life in Kruschev’s Russia. The last two would have resonated powerfully
with Shostakovich and his fellow creatives, who’d long suffered at the
hands of capricious authority. Indeed, the well-documented problems
surrounding the symphony’s premiere in Moscow on 18 December 1962 suggested
the Party could still make difficulties for those who challenged the
prevailing orthodoxy.
The 13th has fared quite well on record, starting with Kiril Kondrashin’s
pioneering account, set down in 1963, the old-school bass Vitaly Gromadsky
uniquely communicative in the all-important solo part (Melodiya/Aulos).
There’s also a Praga Digitals release of what purports to be the next
performance, recorded on 20 December 1962. In his
review
John Quinn expressed some doubts about the recording’s provenance, but
Kondrashin’s biographer, Gregor Tassie, confirms both the first and second
performances were recorded. (In any event, KK’s clear-eyed, very idiomatic
take on these symphonies – warts and all – should be the keystone of any
self-respecting Shostakovich library.)
Also highly commended is André Previn’s 13th, recorded in the iconic
Kingsway Hall in 1979, his LSO forces at their impassioned, incisive best
(EMI-Warner). Superbly engineered by the legendary Christopher Parker, this
version remains at or very near the top of my personal tree, not least for
the magnificent choir – directed by Richard Hickox, no less – and the dark,
rock-steady tones of the bass Dimiter Petkov. (Goodness, how accomplished
he is compared with the soloists in Mark Wigglesworth’s BIS recording and,
especially, Vasily Petrenko’s for Naxos. Quite why less-than-ideal singers
are often used in such a pivotal role is a mystery to me.) And, as good as
the EMI original is, the remaster from Warner Japan, which I
reviewed
a while back, sounds even better.
In sonic terms, though, Bernard Haitink’s Concertgebouw performance, set
down for Decca in 1984, is the one to beat. Engineer Colin Moorfoot’s
recording is both weighty and detailed, but that would count for little if
the music-making weren’t so extraordinary. Literally and metaphorically
this performance towers above all others, bass Marius Rintzler a firm,
nicely nuanced soloist; the singing of the choir as intense as it gets.
Granted, Moorfoot’s big-boned recording isn’t quite how one might
hear it in the concert hall, but it certainly makes for a seat-pinning
aural experience.
Enter Kirill Karabits, the Ukrainian-born chief conductor of the
Bournemouth Symphony, whose reputation has grown considerably since 2011,
when I heard him – and the BSO – in a pretty decent recording of
Khachaturian’s Gayane and Spartacus (Onyx). Then, in 2017, he and his home band treated us to a beguiling
set of ballet suites by Kara Abdul’Faz-Oglï Karayev (Chandos). Beautifully played and recorded, it was one of my top picks
that year. As for the Russian National Orchestra, they’ve also grown in
stature; their recording of Shostakovich’s ‘Leningrad’ Symphony, made with
Paavo Järvi in 2014, is now one of the finest versions in the catalogue (Pentatone). In the same year the RNO and Mikhail Pletnev recorded two
Scriabin symphonies
for the same label; that, too, is a front-runner in its field. Happily,
those with a penchant for DSD downloads can find these and other Pentatone
releases at NativeDSD.
Back to ‘Babi Yar’, and Karabits’s account of the first movement is more beautiful than I’ve ever heard it, the colour and startling detail
of Shostakovich’s score superbly caught by engineer Nadia Nikolayeva.
Tuttis are powerful yet proportionate, the choirs and bass soloist Oleg
Tsibulko well-drilled and wonderfully refined. And, thanks to Polyhymnia’s
Erdo Groot, perspectives are very natural, which, in turn, promotes a
powerful sense of ‘being there’. The DZZ studio in Moscow, where that
Scriabin was also recorded, is clearly a very clean, congenial acoustic
that suits the shape, scale and transparency of Karabits’s performance very
well indeed. Some listeners may find this opener too refined – I did on
first hearing – but it makes sense when heard in the context of the reading
as a whole. In that sense it’s similar to Paavo Jarvi’s ‘Leningrad’, which
is also cogent and compelling despite being understated.
‘Humour’ is crisply done, its sardonic mood well caught. Again, I was
struck by the unforced naturalness of both the performance and the
recording. Even the Wigglesworth, as impressive as it sounds, isn’t in the
same league as this. Neither is Riccardo Muti’s recent version for CSO
Resound, whose engineers are among the best in the business. (Alas, it’s a
terribly disappointing performance, too.) Parker’s very impressive though –
those early digital releases from EMI sounded splendid on LP and, yes, even
on chromium dioxide cassette. (Also, Previn brings a rhythmic verve to this
movement that few can match.)
The despair embedded in the dark bass line at the start of ‘In the store’
is deeply felt, Tsibulko as steady and sombre as Petkov and Rintzler at
this point. And once more I was astonished by the fine details that lurk in
this beautifully crafted score. Both conductor and engineer must share the
credit for these epiphanies, the big double climax simply pole-axing (as it
should be). Haitink is truly crushing here, the emphasis on punch and
power; then again, that’s the hallmark of his big, hard-hitting performance
in general. Previn lies somewhere in between, the choir’s attack really
quite thrilling. Indeed, Karabits’s recalibration yields satisfying, highly musical results, in much the same way as Paavo Järvi’s ‘paradigm
shifting’ 7th does, and that’s quite an achievement.
Played attacca, the concluding movements, ‘Fears’ and ‘A career’,
are among the bleakest things Shostakovich ever wrote. The Stygian
bass-drum shudders and frisson-inducing tam-tam strokes are more
present - and more terrifying - than on any other recording of the
13th I know. If Karabits’s opener lacked the last degree of drama, he
certainly makes up for it here, Tsibulko every bit as accomplished as his
peers when it comes to conveying the desolation of this extraordinary
music.
As if that weren’t praise enough, the orchestral playing astounds at every
turn, the choral singing beyond reproach. Even more important, the
narrative thread, apt to stretch and sometimes break, is preserved,
Karabits in full control to the very end… Unbelievably, I wasn’t hugely
impressed when I first listened to this performance, having imprinted on
Haitink’s all those years ago. In fact, I even considered abandoning this
review altogether, only to be drawn back to – and finally converted by –
Karabits’s refreshing take on this great symphony. No, I wouldn’t want to
be without Kondrashin (Melodiya), Previn or Haitink but this complementary
newcomer deserves a place among them.
A thoughtful, quietly compelling ‘Babi Yar’, studded with good things;
stellar sonics, too.
Dan Morgan
Previous review:
John Quinn
