Shostakovich: String Quartet No.5 in B flat major, Op.92 (1952)
Allegro non troppo –
Andante – Andantino –
Moderato – Allegretto – Andante
Although it was the Glazunov Quartet who gave the first performance of Quartet No.1 (in Leningrad, on 10 October 1938) it was the Beethoven Quartet who were entrusted with the Moscow première, six days later. Thus began a quite remarkable creative relationship which continued for the rest of the composer’s life. One wonders whether Shostakovich would have turned to the medium with such frequency and assurance had not this very special ensemble been constantly available to him as an inspiration and a faithful mouthpiece. Following the death of Vassily Shirinsky (the second violinist) in 1966, he said to the quartet’s leader, Dmitri Tsyganov, “We all take leave of life sooner or later, but the Beethoven Quartet must go on for fifty years, for a hundred years. It is your duty to ensure that the Quartet remains at the high level it should maintain, even when its senior members gradually depart.” This advice was heeded, for although two further members died during Shostakovich’s lifetime, all three were replaced in turn by younger players. Eventually Tsyganov himself decided to retire, but the Beethoven Quartet nevertheless continued for several more years, albeit with none of its original members.
As if to confirm the bond between himself and the Beethoven Quartet, Shostakovich had dedicated his third quartet to them – as he also did the next quartet he had performed. This was in fact No.5 (a thirtieth anniversary present to the ensemble), but the concert did not take place until 13 November 1953. Thus did the Malyi Hall at Moscow Conservatoire host the breaking of a silence which had lasted nearly six years – a void caused by another of those sorry events which brought discredit to all responsible: in January and February 1948 a series of conferences was held, led by Party Cultural supremo Andrei Zhdanov, which amounted to a purge on the leading Soviet composers of the day. Included among them were Prokofiev, Miaskovsky, Khatchaturian, and Shostakovich himself. These attacks were particularly vicious, the culprits accused of being “deviationist”, “occupied by private whims”, “pathologically discordant”, and other choice sins. To analyse what motivated all this would necessarily be involved and sordid; but out of all the rhetorical bombast emerged more than a hint that the thirtieth anniversary of the October Revolution had not been celebrated with the appropriate creative fervour. Pieces were indeed written (for example Shostakovich’s own Poem of the Fatherland, although this was not actually performed during the festivities); but even the puppet Zhdanov himself could detect that they were merely going through the motions. And in Shostakovich’s case the far from apocalyptic ninth symphony (1945) was probably interpreted as a snub to Stalin and his victory in the “Great Patriotic War”.
Not surprisingly, Shostakovich was once again deeply shaken by all the critical abuse, and subsequently offered no new major work for performance until after the death of “the Great Leader and Teacher” on 5 March 1953. That is not to say that his creative urge slackened, because the missing fourth quartet, the tenth symphony (1953), From Jewish Folk Poetry(1948), and the first violin concerto (1947-8) were all uncovered during the next two years. Quartet No.5 had been composed between 7 September and 1 November 1952 and, together with the tenth symphony, it provides a living monument to the considerable artistic integrity demonstrated by the composer at this time. It is one of the toughest and most uncompromising of all his quartets, to a degree which suggests that he may even have been deliberately writing it for the “bottom drawer”. This is especially noticeable in the opening Allegro: during discussions at the Composers’ Union, following the première of the tenth symphony, Shostakovich once more voiced disappointment at his continued failure to produce a true symphonic Allegro; but he must have forgotten this quartet! Even if the achievement in the context of a symphony still eluded him, at least the scale of this particular piece would surely have been sufficient to afford him a certain satisfaction. In it he has gone for an altogether more massive quartet sound than usual, with the principal musical material characterised by driving motor rhythms and near-orchestral sonorities.
Eventually all aggressive tendencies are banished by the appealing entreaties of the muted first violin, its delicate tones floating higher and higher until it comes to rest on a long sustained top F; when it is joined by the viola, two octaves lower, the Andante has begun – a magical effect, thrown into greater relief with the entry of a counter-melody in violin II. This ravishing movement – containing in its Andantino section one of the most ardent melodies Shostakovich ever wrote – comes to rest in much the same way as it had begun, although it is a sustained chord rather than a single note which now leads the way into the finale. Straightaway the second violin intones a wistful theme in B minor which still seems under the spell of the previous movement, until a more confident sounding waltz melody in B flat announces the main Allegretto. This music may seem surprisingly inconsequential in such a big boned work, but the character of an absent scherzo is effectively incorporated. As with the opening Allegro the music builds up into an enormously dense and sustained climax, in which themes from all three movements are pitted against each other. As if to set the seal on this masterwork of form and expression, the closing Andante now proves that the Moderato section which began the movement was far more than a mere transition; its elevation to the major key, and to the most vocal register of the cello, finally brings this amazing work to a serene but not entirely comfortable conclusion.
© Alan George
