Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975)
Symphony No 6 in B minor, Op 54 (1939)
Symphony No 9 in E-flat major, Op 70 (1945)
Philharmonia Orchestra/Santtu-Matias Rouvali
rec. live, 2023, Royal Festival Hall, London
Signum Classics SIGCD877 [59]
The title of this disc is ‘Santtu conducts Shostakovich’. I don’t remember seeing, in the old days, ‘Otto conducts Beethoven’ on a record cover, nor even – though a more plausible idea – ‘Lenny conducts Mahler’. But times change, and the title is eye-catching. I have not been lucky enough to experience the Philharmonia Orchestra live with their principal conductor, Santtu-Matias Rouvali, but after hearing this disc I hope I soon will. The gimmicky presentation neither enhances nor detracts from these two superb Shostakovich performances.
A genius working in any field will, by definition, turn out something extraordinary. These two symphonies are extraordinary in another sense. If their strangeness and indifference to convention leave us wondering about the composer’s aims, we should, nonetheless, remember that Shostakovich’s 15 symphonies present a bewildering variety of approach and form. The Sixth Symphony could scarcely be more different from its neighbours. A long, sombre slow movement, 18½ minutes in this performance, is followed by two contrasting – an inadequate word! – fast ones that together do not last as long as the first.
Rouvali’s choice of tempo in each of the three movements seems ideal to my point of view. The first movement is slow enough to be weighty and portentous, but does not drag. The quality of the playing, phrasing and control of expressive nuances are such that the listener’s mind does not wander, and the extreme clarity and variety of texture add to this. The dotted rhythm that pervades the whole movement gives the music a march-like quality, and that in spite of frequent changes of metre. I particularly appreciate that the conductor is careful to count the silent beats in those bars where very little happens. The recording seems to favour the lower instruments, sometimes to the slight detriment of the violins, but this, too, might well be the conductor’s choice. In any event, it rather enhances the effect. The closing passage is magical.
The tempo for the second movement is, again, judiciously chosen. It is rapid but not breathless, leaving sufficient time so that even this music can be expressive. This is important because, after the gloom of the first movement, we might be seduced into thinking that this is simply a light-hearted scherzo. In some respects it is, but the main climax is remarkably grim, and the piccolo twittering away can be heard, as so often in Shostakovich, as either cheerful or sardonic. The finale is, on the face of it, less equivocal, though Shostakovich’s fast music never seems totally care-free to my years. Rouvali and the superb orchestra revel in this movement’s circus-like, driving energy. Where the closing bars of the second movement are brilliantly light, disappearing into nothingness, the close of the finale is as exciting as I have ever heard it.
In many respects, the Ninth Symphony is even further out of the ordinary than the sixth. There are five movements now, but the total timing of the third and fourth of them only just achieves six minutes. Audiences at the time were expecting something monumental, especially as the symphony appeared as the conclusion of a sort of trilogy following its two, truly monumental predecessors. Then there was the intimidating example of Beethoven’s ninth, and the composer had indeed indicated that he was planning a large-scale work with vocal soloists, chorus and orchestra. What was eventually performed confounded expectations. Its first audiences were highly enthusiastic, the composer’s peers much less so.
Once again, we are faced with a question: is this music genuinely (or only) high-spirited and care-free? Many listeners thought so at the time, and nearly four decades later, Robert Dearling, writing in Shostakovich: The man and his music (1982, ed. Christopher Norris) refers us to a ‘triumphal march of joy’ in the finale, and describes the symphonies close thus: ‘Shostakovich’s celebration of victory ends, after all that has happened to disturb its programme, in breakneck hilarity.’ Yet, what are we to make of that all-important rising fourth from the first trombone about a minute in, as well as the totally crackers piccolo melody that follows? A performance as fine as this one from Rouvali and the superb Philharmonic Orchestra allows us to choose, either jocular and untroubled or a militant gesture of defiance heavily disguised. Tempo choices are again logical and reasonable, giving each phrase time to speak and communicate in faster passages without losing any of the excitement or sense of momentum. Slower passages, on the other hand, move on or take their time according to the demands of the music and Rouvali’s view of it. Listen, for instance, to when the woodwind-dominated second movement opening is taken over by the strings: Rouvali’s careful control of mood and tempo confirms this to be a sad waltz. Extreme clarity of texture is a feature of both performances, as well as considerable mastery of the frequent changes of mood. The orchestral playing is magnificent throughout, with special mention to the woodwind principals, who have so much to do in both works.
These are live performances captured in good sound. The audience is silent and there is no applause. Anything negative to say? In the sixth, none. In the ninth, one or two, but very minor, and only in direct comparison with other performances. Bernstein, for example, recorded in 1965 and available on Sony Classical, brings just a little more edge to the first movement and wildness to the finale. But anyone looking for this coupling need look no further, and Shostakovich admirers seeking yet another conductor’s way with their composer will surely be as hopeful as I am that Rouvali – Santtu – will soon tackle other works.
William Hedley
Previous review: Philip Harrison (January 2025)
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