Shostakovich

This is a unique collection of audio documents that captured the genius Soviet composers playing for posterity. The major bonus of the set is a 'home-made' recording of the violin sonata performed by the composer and David Oistrakh. The four-hand piano transcription of the Tenth Symphony recorded together with the outstanding composer Mieczysaw Weinberg will also spark an evident interest. Shostakovich recorded concertos, chamber ensembles and vocal cycles with some of the greatest twentieth-century musicians such as Daniil Shafran, Nina Dorliak, Zara Dolukhanova, Alexei Maslennikov, Maxim Shostakovich and the Beethoven Quartet.

If one function of art is to make us ponder difficult questions and thus risk causing offence, there could not be a more potent example than Shostakovich’s 13th Symphony. Setting Babi Yar, Yevtushenko’s blistering denunciation of Soviet antisemitism, in the 1960s was an act of political defiance for the composer. First heard in this country in Liverpool, it is highly appropriate that it forms the conclusion and climax of the RLPO’s riveting Shostakovich cycle. The power this performance accumulates at the climaxes of the second and third movement is lacerating; the men’s choruses may not sound totally Russian, but Alexander Vinogradov is a superb bass soloist, and Vasily Petrenko is as good at gloomy introspection as he is at brittle confrontation.

The good news is this recording of Shostakovich's Eleventh Symphony is in the same class as the best ever made. The even better news is it's the start of a projected series of recordings of all the Soviet master's symphonies. Vasily Petrenko has demonstrated before this disc that he is among the most talented of young Russian conductors with superb recordings of Tchaikovsky's Manfred Symphony and of selected ballet suites. But neither of those recordings can compare with this Eleventh. Paired as before with the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra, Petrenko turns in a full-scale riot of a performance that is yet tightly controlled and cogently argued. Said to depict the failed revolution of 1905, Shostakovich's Eleventh is not often treated with the respect it deserves, except, of course, by Yevgeny Mravinsky, the greatest of Shostakovich conductors whose two accounts have been deemed the most searing on record. Until now: Petrenko respects the composer's score and his intentions by unleashing a performance of staggering immediacy and violence, a virtuoso performance of immense drama, enormous tragedy, and overwhelming power.

The later Mikhail Kopelman-led Borodin Quartet recordings of the complete string quartets of Shostakovich aren't so much better than the earlier Valentin Berlinsky-led Borodin Quartet's recordings as they have more than the earlier recording. For one thing, there are two more quartets; the earlier cycle stops with 13 because Shostakovich hadn't gotten any further yet. For another thing, the playing is more emotional; the earlier cycle is violently expressive, but the later cycle has more humanity.

This CD's title, Messe Noire, and its dark cover art may mislead some into thinking this album is filled with evil, forbidden things; but the only selection that suggests the diabolical is Alexander Scriabin's macabre Sonata No. 9, "Black Mass," and it comes at the very end, after Igor Stravinsky's light, neo-Classical Serenade in A, Dmitry Shostakovich's sardonic Sonata No. 2, and Sergey Prokofiev's witty but brutal knuckle-buster, the Sonata No. 7, which all have their dark moments, certainly, but not the same sinister mood found in Scriabin. If pianist Aleksei Lubimov's aim in bringing these Russian masterworks together points to some other unifying idea – perhaps the significance of the piano in these composers' thinking – then some other title might have been more helpful. As it is, though, this album seems most unified in Lubimov's vigorous style of playing, brittle execution, and emphasis on the piano's percussive sonorities, evident in each performance. This spiky approach works best in Prokofiev's sonata, and fairly well in Shostakovich's and Stravinsky's pieces; but it seems too sterile in Scriabin's music, which needs more languor and sensuous writhing than clarity or crispness.

These are excellent performances of exceptionally interesting repertoire. Prokofiev himself arranged 19 numbers from his Cinderella ballet for solo piano, so he surely would not have objected in principle to their reworking for two pianos; nor in practice, I suspect, because Pletnev’s arrangements are fabulously idiomatic and the playing here has all the requisite sparkle and drive. Shostakovich’s Op 6 Suite is far too seldom heard. True, it is an apprentice piece and open to criticism – both the first two movements peter out rather unconvincingly and the blend of grandiosity à la Rachmaninov and academic dissection of material à la Taneyev is not always a happy or very original one. But as a learning experience the Suite was a vital springboard for the First Symphony a couple of years later and there is real depth of feeling in the slow movement, as well as intimations elsewhere of the obsessive drive of the mature Shostakovich. What a phenomenally talented 16-year-old he was!

The title of this disc is somewhat misleading, as there is very little music on it originally composed by Shostakovich. The Overture (Entr’Acte) to Poor Columbus was written by Shostakovich at the behest of Soviet officials to add the appropriate political “spin” to Ervin Dressel’s opera. It’s in the chaotic style of the Russian master’s other theater works of the period, notably The Nose and The Bolt. Cut from the same stylistic cloth are the Two Preludes of 1920, orchestrated by Alfred Schnittke to sound nearly as if written by Shostakovich himself.