Shostakovich: Piano Trio (No.2) in E minor, Op.67 (1944)

Andante
Allegro non troppo
Largo –
Allegretto

Although formerly thought of as “the Piano Trio”, this work was actually preceded by an earlier essay in the medium, composed in 1923 and listed as Op.8. Op.67 (now generally called “No.2” – but not so by its composer) was written 21 years later, with the huge success of the great Piano Quintet (Op.57) already four years behind him. Yet it still seems extraordinary, in the light of the eventual course of his musical life, that Shostakovich should have produced two such important chamber compositions before delivering a major string quartet. The most likely explanation, of course, was the provision of another vehicle for his own pianism: the first performance of this trio was, of course, given by the composer himself – with two members of the Beethoven Quartet. However, that odd but entirely understandable situation was quickly rectified, later the same year, with the appearance of String Quartet No.2: more than twice as long as No.1 – indeed, the longest of the fifteen!

Although all three of these works date from the second world war years it is only the trio which truly betrays its period of origin: both quintet and quartet can be seen rather more in terms of “pure” music. In 1946 the composer poured all his most private feelings about those years into the third quartet, almost like a delayed reaction, resulting in a work of the most profound irony, violence, bitterness, and resignation. But in the trio he seemed to react to the situation in a subtly different manner: to begin with, the piece was written in memory of his closest friend, Ivan Ivanovich Sollertinsky, who had died earlier that year aged 41. This remarkable man was possessed of a quite amazing intellect, insight, and versatility: he reputedly knew over twenty languages, as well as being a highly respected musicologist and critic, specialist in theatre, art, history, philology. In his “memoirs” (as supposedly related to Solomon Volkov in Testimony) Shostakovich speaks of him with a touchingly sincere admiration and gratitude. But around the same time as Sollertinsky’s death came the terrifying revelation to the world of the appalling atrocities committed by Nazis in the camps at Treblinka and Majdanek; and this horror clearly remained in the forefront of the composer’s mind for a long time afterwards – probably for the rest of his life. Although not Jewish himself Shostakovich seemed to share a certain temperamental affinity with Jewish people and their culture, which surfaced again soon after the end of the war in the first violin concerto, the fourth quartet, and the song cycle From Jewish Folk-Poetry, reaching its most explicitly protesting form in his setting of Yevtushenko’s Babi Yar in Symphony No.13 (1962). “I think……..that Jewish folk music has made a most powerful impression on me……it is multi-faceted, it can appear to be happy while it is tragic. It is almost always laughter through tears. This quality of Jewish music is close to my idea of what music should be”.

So the trio deals with one specific aspect of the war; and although it embraces a wide range of emotions (both laughter and tears!) in its first three movements it is towards the finale that everything points: it emerges, barely audibly, out of the solemn Largo passacaglia, sounding at first rather like the opening of Prokofiev’s Overture on Jewish Themes, but soon revealing a sinister side more akin to that (in)famous repetitive march in Shostakovich’s own Leningrad symphony. As the main theme explodes onto the scene we quickly remember that it was put to equally effective use in the eighth quartet. The build-up can be seriously frightening in its elemental power, finally spilling over into a swirling, cataclysmic mêlée – within which can be heard an attempt to recall the very opening of the trio. There is a whole complex of meanings and significances hidden beneath this menacing and powerful music. And if anyone should suggest that it is of no more than topical interest let her/him consider whether a Majdanek might not be equally conceivable in today’s turbulent world. This music is very much of our time as well; and we all might do well to heed its warning.

© Alan George
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