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April 9, 2006
It is not easy, from half a century and half a world away, to appreciate just how significant a work was Shostakovich's Symphony No.10 in the Soviet Union of the 1950s.
In March, 1953 Sergei Prokofiev died, catapulting Shostakovich, at the age of 46, into the position of the country's foremost composer.
Ironically, on the very same day (March 5) Josef Stalin had also died; in the July, Lavrenti Beria, Stalin's feared head of the NKVD (later the KGB), was arrested and subsequently executed. It seemed no coincidence to the people that the year's literary sensation was Ilya Ehrenburg's The Thaw.
After almost eight years of symphonic silence, Shostakovich's Tenth was premiered in December 1953. The following year the symphony was the subject of an animated debate in the Soviet Composers' Union which lasted for three days; nor was that the end of it: a year later, at the Eighth All-Union Plenum of the directorate of the union, some twenty papers were delivered, all on the topic of Shostakovich's Tenth.
And what did the composer himself have to say about his new work? Not a great deal; most of the mythology surrounding the symphony is courtesy of Volkov's Testimony and that is one debate I am reluctant to join.
When asked if the Tenth had a programme, Shostakovich replied, with a smile, "No, let them listen and guess for themselves." In a general sense, he said, "in this composition, I wanted to portray human emotions and passions."
Before the debate in the Composer's Union Shostakovich was positively diffident about the music: "Like other works of mine, it was written quickly. That perhaps is not a virtue...I see that I did not succeed [in the first movement] in doing what I have dreamed of doing for a long time: writing a real symphonic allegro...The second movement...is perhaps too short, however, especially since the other movements are rather long...
"As for the third movement, I think that my purpose was more of less successful, though it is a bit too long; here and there, however, there are places that are a bit short..."
And so forth...
Sunday's concert closed with a superb account of what is, for many, Shostakovich's greatest symphony. Tania Miller summoned forth from the orchestra some of the finest playing I've heard from them, in a performance of great control and considerable fire.
The long opening movement may not be a "real symphonic allegro", but I'd be prepared to argue that that would have been an inappropriate vehicle for what Shostakovich was trying to say. Miller's shaping of the music was excellent, its grip on the audience rarely flagging for a moment.
The second movement might best be characterised (pace Thomas Hobbes) as "nasty, brutish and short". Miller and the orchestra dispatched it with an appropriate degree of venom and first-rate ensemble. From the row behind, I overheard a whispered "wow!" afterwards, which seemed entirely apt.
The third movement, hardly a slow movement, is notable for its dramatic interjection from the horn (excellently played by Janet Parker) and its eerie, fractured waltz - a typically Shostakovichian dance of death.
The finale is, for some, problematic. The triumphant ending is too easily won after the hardships that preceded it. Miller chose good tempos for the slow introduction and the main allegro and whipped up the excitement in the faster music. Whether the ending actually had the ambiguity she claimed for it is another matter; it is largely a matter of orchestral balance and I suspect that in the excitement of the moment (and exciting it surely was) some subtleties were lost.
No matter. I ended the performance feeling emotionally drained - which is how it should be.
Short of reproducing the entire membership of the orchestra I shall simply have to mention a few notable individual moments - and the reader should understand that these serve to represent the whole, so well did they play.
The lower strings at the work's opening had the requisite chilling effect and there was some superbly eloquent viola work in the first movement coda - indeed the strings throughout were very fine indeed.
Shostakovich was a great writer for winds and, of course, the Victoria Symphony has a superb wind section, all heard to great advantage on Sunday. One of his most notable effects is to screw up the tension by employing the winds, especially the piercing, shrieking piccolo - and Sally Harvey was particularly effective in raising the blood pressure.
The brass were excellent too, savage and ferocious when necessary, but mellow and restrained when that was appropriate.
Finally, the percussion section added "heft" to the mix - at the climax of the opening movement, for example, which made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
A worthy birthday offering - even if a few months early.
Sergei Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No.2 has been a great audience favourite since its first performance and must be counted as one of the 20th century most popular works (even if, having been first performed in 1901, it barely qualifies).
I must confess that I personally would not go out of my way to hear yet another performance of this chestnut, but am usually quite happy to sit though the work, humming (to myself, that is) happily along with the big tunes.
Sunday's performance by soloist Ian Parker and the symphony under Miller struck me as being rather self-indulgent, although at first I was unsure whether it was Miller indulging Parker, vice-versa or - as it transpired - both.
I am aware that there is a Romantic performance style (indeed, in recent years there has been considerable research and even, in a small way, a Historically Informed Romantic Performance movement) but it consisted of far more than simply wandering over the map, tempo-wise, and slowing down when the music gets louder.
There were many fine things about the performance: Ian Parker certainly has the technique for the work - his contouring of the famous opening chords, for example, a gradual, ominous crescendo with no hint of clangour in the sound, was superb.
The accompaniment, too, was generally first rate.
My problem was that Parker and Miller, between them, seemed to have no real conception of how the music should be structured, or, if they did, I'm afraid it passed me by.
It pains me to say it, but I was actually bored by this performance.
In all honesty, I should also point out that I appeared to be in a minority of one (single figures anyway) and that most of the audience enjoyed the performance immensely.
It does not take a very close examination of those works of Shostakovich which were specif ally written to celebrate the October Revolution - notably the banal second and twelfth symphonies - to realise that his attitude towards the events of 1917 was, at best, ambivalent.
The Festive Overture is another example, although Shostakovich at his most banal is frequently more interesting (and technically more accomplished) than the majority of his contemporaries.
Sunday's concert opened with a well-played and extrovert performance of the overture.
The programme is repeated tonight (April 10) at 8 p.m. Look at it this way: the odds are that you will enjoy the Rachmaninov more than I did. And the Shostakovich Tenth really should not be missed.
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