Symphony No. 7 "Leningrad"

Shostakovich's 7th symphony was an international sensation when it arrived in the West during WWII -- the composer made the cover of Time Magazine, a drawing of him in his fireman's helmet -- but it suffered a decline in reputation thereafter as it quickly came to be seen as "banal and bombastic," in the critics' accepted terms, applied to the first and fourth movements respectively. It is true that it is not one of DSCH's best symphonies -- those would be the 4th, 5th, 8th and 10th. But it is a fine work, and as others have noted, the two central movements have many lovely moments. Personally, I find the gradual transformation of a light-hearted theme into a menacing fortissimo (the "invasion theme") in the first movement to be a quite effective use of banal material -- I think DSCH knew exactly what he was doing. Compare the heavy-handed grotesque dance in the second movement of the 5th, and hear a similar sensibility. To my ears, it is the triumphant ending that sounds forced, and seems likely to be the result of a compromise with political exigency.

The 7th Symphony has become embroiled in controversy, along with Shostakovich's entire life and work. It might seem obvious that it portrays the Nazis as the evil force in the "invasion theme," but according to Volkov and others, it actually represents the rise of Stalin's terror and the gradual perversion of the high ideals of the revolution. The cover art for this CD captures this ambiguity by depicting Gergiev holding the score in front of him, as if to say "here is what Shostokovich wrote -- listen to the music, and decide for yourself what it means." Compare this to the painting of wartime devastation on the cover of the Bernstein recording, reflecting the official account, to see how the understanding of Shostakovich has changed since his death. As I listen to this work, it seems less obvious that it is about war than the 8th Symphony, with its manic allegro non troppo battle scene. I am inclined to think that the "holy fool" view of Shostakovich is true, that he was spitting in the eye of Stalin by portraying evil and allowing the attribution of that evil to be officially misinterpreted. (If Hitler is evil, and Stalin fights Hitler, that does not mean that Stalin is not also evil... )

The package for this recording is brilliant. The disc itself as well as the inlay under the disc shows a photo of Soviet troops seizing a German position. The back of the booklet is a detail from a Soviet painting/poster/mural showing resolute soldiers in a row on a red backdrop. The official account is thus part of the presentation, which is only fitting since it is if nothing else an inextricable part of its renowned history.

Many of Shostakovich's works are programmatic to the extreme, involving - often - subtexts and even subtexts WITHIN subtexts. Probably, none do so more than his "war" symphonies, especially the 11th and the 7th under consideration here. Subtitled "Leningrad," this symphony, on its surface, depicts the German siege of that city in 1941, and the eventual victory of the Soviets over the Germans following that extended siege. Shostakovich personally experienced that siege, and, whether or not one chooses to accept various other subtexts (such as the Volkov "Testimony" one that describes the work in dramatically different terms), it is clear that this is in fact a "war" symphony such as only he might have written as a personal reaction to the German invasion.

The "banal" of course describes the all-too-famous "center" of the opening Allegretto, with its incessant side drum tattoo accompanying a simple theme repeated twelve times, each time louder and with different forces than the previous. It is an obvious parody of Ravel's "Bolero," right down to an unexpected modulation to an unrelated key near its close. (Béla Bartók in turn parodied this theme in his "Concerto for Orchestra," presumably after having heard a radio broadcast of the work that drove him to distraction with its utter thematic banality.) But - often overlooked - is that the theme might also be described as a Shostakovich parody of a tune from Franz Lehar's "The Merry Widow," a connection I find fascinating, inasmuch as it provides a "Germanic" context that might put the lie to the Volkov subtext. In any event, Gergiev has provided us with the most gripping account of this "Bolero," shattering in its cumulative effect (starting from barely a whisper) and taken at a rather quick clip that I find appropriate.

We find the sublime in the two inner movements, particularly with their overtly Mahlerian overtones. The third movement Adagio is remarkable in its content and structure, and it is here that I think Gergiev finds fresh substance and meaning that others all too often miss. Beginning with its Stravinskian "wind band" sonorities that lead into a beautiful cantilena on the strings that returns again and again, Shostakovich is at his most creative and "universal." There are Wagnerian sonorities in the lower brass, and a gorgeous flute solo that almost causes me to ask whether Ivan Sollertinsky, Shostakovich's closest friend and a Mahler specialist, shared some heretofore unknown knowledge regarding Mahler's unfinished 10th Symphony with him. Near the end of this remarkable movement, so full of imaginative and beautiful ideas, the trumpets introduce a malagueńa-like theme, taken over by the full orchestra, and the work then proceeds without interruption into its "monumental" concluding Allegro.

There is, to my way of thinking, more musical substance in the "monumental" than in the "banal," in that this final Allegro itself also has its share of sublimity, in the form of a brief respite from "the march to victory" in which a solo string line in the violins serves as yet another reminder that "Shostakovich knew his Mahler." But, soon enough, Gergiev leads us into a concluding coda that is truly shattering in its cumulative energy.

Despite this being a very new release, it was recorded in late September, 2001 (in the shadow of 9/11, no less), at the Gergiev-led Rotterdam festival celebrating Shostakovich. Whether or not that date proximity is reflected in the enthusiasm and ardor so apparent in this performance is largely beside the point.

I write these words with my ears still ringing from hearing a live performance of this work by Gergiev and his Kirov Orchestra a few evenings back, at the start of their current tour in the U.S. The performance was under "ideal" circumstances (perfect 10th-row center seats in my favorite local venue, Mechanics Hall in Worcester, MA, famed for its splendid acoustics). My aural memory of that event enables me to make a few relevant comments about this recording. It is nearly the match of what I heard (although what I did hear can only be described in superlatives full of hyperbole; a virtually "perfect" performance). The ensemble excellence of the Kirov alone exceeded that of the combined Kirov/Rotterdam forces. The orchestral forces were arrayed differently, clarifying some details in the process. (The work requires a huge orchestra, and the Kirov fully filled the Mechanics Hall stage.) More than likely, the principal oboist on the recording was a Rotterdammer; the Kirov principal oboist was at least slightly "tarter" (but consistent with the timbre one usually hears in Shostakovich works). And the dynamic contrast was, if anything, greater than what one hears on this recording. (The side drum tattoo and pizzicato strings beginning the inexorable "invasion" theme were just barely at the level of audibility, while the closing bars of the work near lifted the roof off the venue.)

But please do not take these personal live-event observations as commentary about this recording being anything less than the best I have ever heard, and most likely the best available. The performance is indeed superb, Gergiev indeed has put his personal stamp on this work as being "major league" Shostakovich, and the dynamic range of this Philips recording is phenomenal enough.