Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975)
Symphony No 13, Op 113 (1962)
Vitalij Kowaljow (bass)
London Symphony Chorus, London Philharmonic Choir
London Symphony Orchestra / Gianandrea Noseda
rec. live 2 April, 2023, Barbican Hall, London
Russian text, transliteration and English translation included
LSO0392 [58]
Gianandrea Noseda’s cycle of the Shostakovich symphonies has been evolving over the last few years. We’ve reviewed the previous instalments on MusicWeb International and at the foot of this review I have provided links to reviews of all the previous instalments. Shostakovich died on 9 August 1975 and to mark the 50th anniversary of his death LSO Live are now issuing the complete cycle, including several symphonies, of which the Thirteenth is one, which have not already been released. The cycle comes either as a box of ten SACDs or as digital downloads. For collectors who have been acquiring the individual releases on SACD, I should point out that symphonies 2, 3 12, 13 and 14 will only be available individually as downloads; these works will not be released on SACD except as part of the boxed set of the whole cycle. I have reviewed this performance from an SACD in the boxed set (LSO0907); the catalogue number in the header refers to the individual digital release.
This performance of the Thirteenth Symphony was given on 2 April 2023; the programme was repeated the following night, when my Seen and Heard colleague, Chris Sallon was present to review it.
In the last 18 months I’ve had the unexpected good fortune to take part in three performances of this symphony as a member of the chorus. I was very keen to take part when the opportunity arose because I already regarded the Thirteenth as one of Shostakovich’s most profound symphonic utterances but the intensive rehearsal process, to say nothing of the performances, further deepened my admiration for the work. I previously appreciated the qualities of the symphony’s first, third and fourth movements; working on them in detail reinforced my admiration for those parts of the symphony but in addition I came to understand far better the biting, sardonic humour of the other two movements.
We shouldn’t underestimate the extent to which the composition of the Thirteenth Symphony was an act of courage on Shostakovich’s part. He was initially inspired by a poem, ‘Babi Yar’ by Yevgeny Yevtushenko (1933-2017). The poem, which was was published in September 1961 in the Soviet journal, Literaturnaya Gazeta, condemned anti-Semitism and in particular the appalling Nazi massacre of tens of thousands of Jews in a ravine just outside Kiev in 1941. As Elizabeth Wilson points out in her programme note, the massacre was carried out by the Nazis but became a taboo subject in the USSR: Yevtushenko’s poem “shattered this stifling silence”. Initially, Shostakovich intended to set ‘Babi Yar’ as a standalone composition but fairly soon he determined to compose a full-scale symphony, setting more poems by Yevtushenko. He chose three existing poems, ‘Humour’, ‘In the Store’ and ‘A Career’. In addition, he asked Yevtushenko to write another poem for him; this became ‘Fears’ which the composer inserted in his structure as the fourth movement, following on from ‘In the Store’. Though ‘Babi Yar’ was the poem which stirred up trouble for both poet and composer, the other texts were anything but uncontroversial in the Soviet Union during the Khrushchev era, although it seems that it was solely ‘Babi Yar’ which attracted official disapproval. The Soviet authorities became increasingly agitated about the new symphony as the premiere drew near and degrees of pressure were applied to at least obstruct, if not prevent, the performance. Yevgeny Mravinsky, who had premièred several Shostakovich symphonies made, I believe, a rather specious excuse to avoid conducting; Kirill Kondrashin took his place and became a noted exponent of the work. Several potential bass soloists withdrew, one on the very day of the première; fortunately, Kondrashin had rehearsed another bass, Vitaly Gromadsky and he was able to step in. Despite all this harassment, the first performance took place on 18 December, 1962 though no texts were printed in the programme and Pravda carried no review, merely a one-sentence report that the première had happened. Subsequently, official pressure was exerted on Yevtushenko to make some changes to the text of ‘Babi Yar’; he agreed to do so, though Shostakovich disapproved, and I understand that it was not until 2006 that a score containing the original text of that poem was published in Russia. If anyone doubts Shostakovich’s view of the Soviet regime, the answer lies in this symphony.
The Thirteenth Symphony is dominated by the towering first movement, ‘Babi Yar’. The very opening is marked Adagio and the metronome marking is crotchet = 58. Noseda is a bit quicker than that and, in fact, his tempi throughout the movement tend to be a bit swifter than I would like. The combined forces of the tenors and basses of the London Symphony Chorus and London Philharmonic Choir (numbering some 75 voices) make an impressive, dark sound at their first entry. Vitalij Kowaljow is, quite correctly, quite subdued when he begins to sing but he soon ratchets up the tension. Generally, I think that both soloist and chorus make a very good showing in this movement, though when the choir sing ‘They’re coming’ at the start of the passage that leads to the movement’s terrifying climax, they don’t sound anything like as scared as they should. The orchestral climax (from just after 8:00) should be a shattering episode but I don’t feel that’s quite achieved here because Noseda doesn’t give the music sufficient breadth; the climax is noisy and imposing, but not frightening. Once the dust has settled on that climax, the pages that follow contain desolate music, which is well done here, before one last mighty climax, which once again doesn’t quite come off. Not only is the final climax lacking in sufficient breadth but also it doesn’t sound as if Noseda observes the ritenuto in the last couple of bars. I wondered if I’d been a little unfair on Noseda so once I’d completed my listening, I checked on the timings of this movement in some other versions, selected at random from my shelves. Noseda takes 13:58; by contrast, Bernard Haitink, whose Decca version I much admire, takes 17:11, Mark Wigglesworth (BIS) 16:13 and the excellent André Previn (Warner) 16:52. Two other conductors with direct links to Shostakovich should be considered. Rudolf Barshai (Brilliant) is very close overall to Haitink at 17:09. On the other hand, Kirill Kondrashin, who would have consulted with Shostakovich prior to the premiere, took 13:43 in his Melodiya studio recording while in the live recording of the work’s second performance the movement plays for 14:49. So, Noseda has the Kondrashin precedent on his side but I prefer an overall broader approach.
The second movement, ‘Humour’ is a success. Noseda, his singers and players bring out the earthy comedy in both the text – which portrays Humour as a Till Eulenspiegel-like figure – and the music. Here, Shostakovich indulges his penchant for thumbing his nose at the establishment, a trait that was a frequent visitor to his music over the years. Vitalij Kowaljow is splendid, relishing the sardonic humour, and the choir sings incisively. The LSO offers sharply pointed playing.
The remaining three movements of the symphony play without a break. ‘In the store’ is a bleak tribute to the stoicism of Russian women, queueing in the freezing winter temperatures to buy subsistence food supplies. Noseda and the LSO present a cold, featureless atmosphere. The chorus has a subsidiary role in this movement; the focus is on the soloist. Kowaljow sings very well, though there were a couple of occasions where I thought he was a bit too loud. The big climax, where those who short change or otherwise cheat these women are reproached, is delivered with proper weight. This movement is well brought off. The fourth movement, ‘Fears’ follows attacca. This, it will be remembered, is the poem which Yevtushenko wrote at the behest of Shostakovich. Frankly, I’m amazed that the Soviet authorities didn’t regard the poem as being every bit as unacceptable to them as ‘Babi Yar’. ‘Fears are dying out in Russia’ are the first words that the chorus sings: the text that follows make it clear that as far as the poet is concerned, precisely the reverse is true; somehow, Yevtushenko got away with this. The opening of the movement is extraordinary: bass drum and tam-tam create a chilling ambience and a baleful tuba solo is heard; this is music to chill the blood. When the chorus enters with their aforementioned phrase, they almost whisper rather than sing; it’s highly effective. Elsewhere in the movement, their delivery is right on the money. Kowaljow is excellent; he really draws the listener in. That’s especially true of the passage leading up to the movement’s climax. Shostakovich’s orchestration is very striking in this movement; Noseda and the LSO project it very well
The final movement, ‘Career’ finds both poet and composer in what appears to be a humorous mood. Superficially, the text – and Shostakovich’s music – pokes fun at careerists, but if they had dug beneath the surface, the Soviet authorities would have spotted that the authorities, apparatchiks and the like are being sarcastically lampooned. I like the way Kowaljow characterises his solo passages and I equally admire the precision of the choir’s interjections. The sardonic part of the movement – in other words, most of its length – is very well delivered, both vocally and orchestrally. The musical mood changes when Shostakovich gets to the point where the soloist articulates the nub of the poem, speaking of the people such as doctors who have pursued worthy careers. Now, the music switches from the sharp, almost perky to the reflective. These last pages come off very well indeed; Kowaljow is eloquent. It’s left to the orchestra to conclude the symphony in seeming tranquillity. The LSO plays these closing pages in a most refined fashion, though Noseda does something right at the end that I can’t recall hearing in any other performance. In the last eleven bars the celeste is to the fore. Noseda slows these bars considerably, an effect that I don’t think is marked in the score; it’s certainly not in the vocal score. I was surprised by this but, even though the gesture is (I think) not what the composer intended, I’ve come to think it works quite well. A moment ago, I used the phrase “seeming tranquillity”; that’s because at the very end we hear the same quiet B flat tubular bell toll that occurred right at the start of the symphony, introducing ‘Babi Yar’. Is this final bell sound a coded message from Shostakovich?
There’s much to admire in Noseda’s reading of this profound symphony. For my taste, though, he doesn’t quite get the first movement right. I like more breadth and ominous weight and given the emotional and structural significance of ‘Babi Yar’ , that’s quite a drawback. Thereafter, though, the interpretation is very successful and idiomatic. Noseda is well served by an excellent soloist, a fine chorus and an orchestra that is on top of its game.
I listened to this recording using the stereo layer of the SACD, so I can’t vouch for the download sound. The SACD results were impressive. The sound has a very good dynamic range, and plenty of impact.
John Quinn
Buying this recording via the link below generates revenue for MWI, which helps the site remain free
The Noseda Shostakovich cycle on LSO Live
Symphonies Nos. 1 & 5 review
Symphony No. 4 review
Symphonies Nos. 6 & 15 review
Symphony No. 7 review ~ review
Symphony No. 8 review ~ review
Symphonies Nos. 9 & 10 review ~ review ~ review
Symphony No. 11 review ~ review
