Dmitri

This recording of the 6th and 9th Symphonies is an interesting combination. The three-movement Sixth Symphony, with its brooding first movement, energetic second movement, and almost circus-like last movement, and the cheeky, almost light-weight Ninth. Note that I used the word "almost". Shostakovich manages to get pretty serious in places (the second and fourth movements come to mind here). That being said, the performances and recording of both works are first rate. There is no doubt that Mariss Jansons is a master interpreter of the music of Shostakovich.

The first two works are for viola and a battery of percussion instruments. Pourtinade, in nine sections with highly descriptive titles whose order is decided by the performers, elicits every possible sound and color effect from the viola, and an extraordinary range of blending and contrasting textural timbres from the instrumental combinations. "Redwood," inspired by Japanese woodcuts, uses the percussion as melody instruments; often it seems incredible that a single player can produce such a wealth of sounds. Opening softly and mysteriously, it becomes quite active, and then a beautiful viola solo fades away. The Shostakovich Sonata, written in the shadow of death, is heartbreakingly moving in its lamentatious mournfulness and turbulently desperate outbursts. The piano texture is pared down to skeletal spareness; the viola mourns in the dark low register and soars radiantly up high. The Scherzo is defiantly sardonic; the Finale, full of quotes from Beethoven, ends in resignation. The playing is beautiful and projects the changing moods with a riveting, inwardly experienced expressiveness.

Riccardo Muti leads the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, men of the Chicago Symphony Chorus and bass soloist Alexey Tikhomirov in this poignant performance of Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 13, Op. 113 (Babi Yar), recorded live in September 2018.

Alban Gerhardt writes admiringly of Rostropovich and the legacy of marvellous works he inspired, but on the evidence of these extraordinary accounts of two of them, he need fear no comparisons with his great Russian forebear.

The back cover of this Czech release promises "certainly the most intense chamber programme that might be dedicated to the joint memory of Sviatoslav Richter and Dmitry Shostakovich," and the performances live up to the billing. The first half of the program is given over to a pair of string quartets from the year 1960, around the point where Shostakovich's inward turn following his denunciation by Soviet cultural commissars merged with his reflections on the violence of modern war to create a uniquely modern tragic dialogue.

The prospect of hearing Alina Ibragimova in two of the most important concertos written for the violin is in itself irresistibly enticing, but Shostakovich aficionados will also welcome an opportunity to hear the rarely performed original opening to the Burlesque of No.1, subsequently made less fearsome for the soloist at the request of the work's dedicatee, David Oistrakh.

Shostakovich's film music, and before that his incidental music for the stage, has gotten a bad rap as unadventurous music he wrote when he needed to ingratiate himself with the Communist regime. For some of it, the characterization rings true, but not for all of it, and these early works – one a set of stage incidental music and one a film score of 1935 – are delightful. Both are world premieres, although a suite from The Bedbug, Op. 19 was performed by Gennady Rozhdestvensky and the USSR Ministry of Culture Symphony Orchestra many years ago. It's a biting, bumptious, satirical work straight out of the highly creative early Soviet scene that Stalin brutally stamped out.

This is one of the best recordings I have ever heard. Jansons' phrasing is marvelous. The music emerges from a mist, taking shape slowly. In the finale, at around 7:30, the brass have a phrasing about it that casts a hollow, sanguinary shadow to events. The sudden 'end' to the massacre is greeted by the most haunting aural image I've ever heard. The chimes (?) at the close of the second movement is arresting. Then there is the bassoon in the third movement…how does Jansons get the player to produce that sound?? There is a seamless quality to the stings, as if Jansons was having them play 'bogen frie' (as Stokowski called it) or use free bowing. These are just some of the wonderful moments in this symphony.

The 1st and 9th complement each other perfectly, and this original pairing of the 9th with an equally fine performance of the 1st is a delight. The playing and acoustic of the Philharmonic is not as glorious as that of the Concertgebouw in some of Haitink's other Shostakovich recordings, but they acquit themselves quite well, capturing equally the light and the gloom, playfulness and tragedy, lyricism and satire that run through these both works.