Linn Records CKD 247
It is typical of Shostakovich that the 'meaning' of this remarkable symphony remains equivocal. The public references to the 1905 Revolution, which duly earned him a Lenin Prize, hid the work's private links to contemporary events. In particular these related to the abortive Hungarian Revolution, which was so bloodily suppressed by the occupying Soviet forces. Be that as it may, the Symphony No. 11, like all the best programme music, transcends its programme and exists as a masterpiece of symphonic integration and searing emotional commitment.
Shostakovich composed the work in 1957, for the fortieth anniversary of the October Revolution. It is outwardly based upon the tragic revolt of the St Petersburg workers in 1905, the year in which the disastrous defeats in the war with Japan combined with intense economic problems, to drive the people to an open expression of discontent. At the centre of the conception is an event as notorious in Russia as the Peterloo Massacre is in Britain: the 'Bloody Sunday' assault on the workers who were demonstrating in the Square of the Winter Palace. Hundreds of men, women and children were killed.
There are four movements, which are closely linked by the careful symphonic integration of the material. The first, entitled The Palace Square, sets the scene and introduces the most important of the musical ingredients, a motto theme which is immediately presented in bleak outline, with the addition of sinister timpani patterns. The atmospheric Linn recording and Lazarev’s steady tempo succeed in setting the scene of the chill surroundings. It is important to outline this material of course, since it will prove pervasive. The playing of the orchestra matches this vision, with rapt intensity and close attention to dynamics: principal flute and trumpet both acquit themselves with distinction. The performance captures the remarkable concentration of this movement, as the impersonal atmosphere becomes obsessive.
The second movement, 9th January, follows without pause, and relates the massacre. In the lower strings a distinctive tune is heard: 'Bare your heads', from Shostakovich's own Choruses on Revolutionary Poems (1951). As if to portray the gathering crowd, the tune is insistently repeated, intensifying until the first movement's trumpet call cuts through the texture and the conflict turns to crisis. There is terrific intensity at length releasing the evocation of the infamous massacre. Here the recording engineers are put to the test, a test that they pass, even if the Scottish strings can sound strained at times. The event itself is graphically represented, by means of the exciting rhythmic conflict between fours and threes. Lazarev’s tempo is insistent, his balancing of the material well articulated without compromising the ‘edge of the seat’ nature of the music.
When it arrives the climax is a masterstroke, returning suddenly to a pianissimo presentation of the motto. Again the Linn recording does justice to the requirements of the dynamic range, before the trumpet call of hope follows, as do subdued references to other potent themes.
From these poignant images emerges the third movement, In Memoriam, whose slow pizzicato pulse sets the tone for the dignified elegy introduced by the violas. Extended presentations of this noble Revolutionary tune - 'You fell as victims' - frame the movement, with a big contrasting climax at the centre.
The finale, The Tocsin, builds an insistent vision that determination and hope must result in victory. This march-like moto perpetuo is cast in three parts: a call to action, a meditation, and the struggle ahead. Accordingly the principal theme is based upon another Revolutionary song: 'Rage, you tyrants'. For relief there is a slow interlude, a cor anglais lament based on the motto; it is beautifully played in this performance. After this the concluding phase is brief and the more urgent for it. Shostakovich builds a final massive and resounding climax for the full orchestra, which makes a suitable impact thanks to the outstanding recording.
There is more than one way of performing a great symphony, of course, and in that sense the best performance must by definition be ‘the next one’. However, Lazarev and the RSNO stand up as worthy members of what is becoming a more crowded assemblage of compelling recorded performances of the Symphony No. 11. His tempi bring a sense of urgency that Mstislav Rostropovich, for one, lacks, although there is no lack of weight when required. On the other hand, Bernard Haitink and the Concertgebouw have an attention to detailed dynamics that leaves other behind, though on the other hand there are moments, especially in the finale, when the torch of intensity might have burned more brightly. On EMI Paavo Berglund and the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra remain a personal favourite. The sound wears its age well and the rugged determination of Berglund’s approach to tempi has much to commend it, particularly in the ‘massacre’ music. The older Russian recordings by Mravinsky and Kondrashin have great power and authenticity, although in truth their sound quality is rough and ready compared with what modern technology can produce. There is an excellent 1995 Russian performance, on Chandos with the Russian State Orchestra conducted by Valeri Polyansky, which perhaps combines the best of all these features.
With their highly successful Chandos recordings with Neeme Järvi, the Scottish National Orchestra has a proud recording tradition in Shostakovich (though Järvi recorded the Eleventh for DG in Gothenberg). This well mastered disc assumes a worthy position in that tradition, confirming as it does the orchestra’s standards and international credentials.
Terry Barfoot
MusicWeb, June 2005
A sonic spectacular – but unable to plumb the depths of its predecessors.
Do we need another Eleventh? Whether you take its composition as an act of conformism, a
coded indictment of Soviet tyranny, ‘a film-score without the film’ or something rather
more subtle (David Fanning’s booklet-note for Linn is excellent on all this), it probably
isn’t a piece for everyday listening.
That said, it is difficult to think of an interpretative tendency that hasn’t been
championed on disc. The frenzied hysteria whipped up by Kondrashin in a performance lasting
less than 54 minutes is remote indeed from the stoicism of Rostropovich’s latest and longest,
clocking in at 72-plus. Both the highly regarded Columbia version from Cluytens, taped while
the composer was in Paris, and Stokowski’s, made even earlier for Capitol, on the heels of
the American premiere, fall somewhere between these extremes. Stokowski’s recording was a
sonic spectacular in its day, as Lazarev’s is in ours, so it is interesting to note how
priorities have changed.
Inevitably, the latter is afforded more natural balances and a greatly wider dynamic range, whereas Stokowski is sometimes at pains to add colour and character to what’s there in the score. All the same, Lazarev’s reading seems less remarkable. The playing is committed and proficient, a timely tribute to his recent period in charge of the orchestra, the sonority a little light.
The scene is set efficiently and with carefully tuned timps, The Ninth of January is brilliantly dispatched (nicely sneering trombones from 13’27”) and the finale goes with suitable élan, though you might not care for the pitch of the bells at the close. The controversial element is the third movement, too fast to admit either Rostropovich’s personalised gravitas or Stokowski’s generalised warmth, and with a big, speaker-busting climax. In sum, this is what would once have been called a demonstration disc, exceptionally well produced and presented.
David Gutman
Gramophone, September 2005
I recognize that this isn’t a universally held opinion, but for me, Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 11, while clearly one of the composer’s most effective orchestral scores, is not among his greatest. To some degree, the “film music without the film” rap sticks. There are large expanses of the work that are long on evocative color and visceral excitement but short on symphonic argument, something Shostakovich was awfully good at, even in pieces with an obvious programmatic element such as the Seventh Symphony. That said, a good performance of the 11th can be a very musically fulfilling hour, and this new SACD is indeed a good one.
Alexander Lazarev was once chief conductor and artistic director of the Bolshoi Theater and has been principal conductor of the RSNO since 1997. He elicits top-notch playing from his band—precise, crisply delineated rhythms throughout and consistently satisfying ensemble blend and balances. There’s some great solo work as well; for example, the tenderly played English horn passage toward the end of the Finale. The opening of the first movement is eerily atmospheric, with a great sense of expectancy, and “The Ninth of January” is effectively stage-managed to depict the situation outside the Winter Palace on that day in 1905, as it spiraled out of control to its disastrous conclusion. “In Memoriam” feels a little rushed at 8:50. (Evgeny Mravinsky, who knew a thing or two about the composer’s intentions in his symphonic works, took 11:30 in a 1967 recording taken from a Czech Radio broadcast [Praga PR 7254018] and Rostropovich really lingers at 13:27 on an LSO Live release.) The last movement blazes with a determined intensity, ominously exhilarating as the bells ring out - the “Toscin” of the Finale’s title - at the very end.
Linn’s 5.1 multichannel program offers an open and airy presentation of the orchestra, conservative in that the rear speakers aren’t heard from one’s listening chair. There’s excellent front-to-back layering and the stereo SACD version maintains a surprising amount of this spaciousness. Rostropovich’s performance with the London Symphony Orchestra was a Want List choice of mine a couple of years ago, and it’s been released recently as a 4.0 hybrid multichannel SACD (LSO0535), with sound as good as Linn’s. That performance is characterized by very slow tempos throughout, which has the effect of transforming the piece into something absorbingly monumental. But this new effort is easily recommendable to both SACD-acquiring audiophiles and plain old devotees of the Shostakovich symphonic canon.
Andrew Quint
Fanfare Magazine, September-October 2005