Symphony No. 7 opus 119

Moscow Philharmonic Orchestra
Dmitry Yablonsky

Naxos 8.557013

The phantasmagoria that is Tishchenko’s Seventh Symphony has come to recorded fruition in this live performance from Moscow; its first recording. In five movements, simply numbered and not named by the composer, the Seventh covers a myriad of moods, as well as rhythmic and stylistic front lines, and takes its hearer on a vortex ride of ambiguity and disjunction. It’s easier to say what the symphony does than what it’s about, easier to be descriptive of its scheme than to point to definitive influences, though obviously Tishchenko, as a famous Shostakovich pupil, will ever have that name appended to his own.

The jocular introduction, quiet over pizzicato strings, gives way to more immediately pensive material. It’s not long before the burlesque-grotesquerie appears and haunts the symphony like a Pierrot at a Ball. The raspberry blowing brass deepens the cynicism – all this from the innocent seedbed of the opening bars. The second movement gives us circus music, some music hall (a close cousin of Shostakovich’s Jazz Suite No.1) oom-pah and xylophone flippancy of a completely unabashed kind. Thus far we’ve been led from light to foolish indulgence but in the third movement we have a tense, still reprieve with winds taking striking lines and the listener feels temporarily removed from the potentially menacing night-sweat material that surrounds it.

The fourth movement introduces a chorale figure and a weird, sinuous, worrying glissando that leads onto the final movement. The military tom toms that assail us are juxtaposed with marching songs, string swirl and hieratic brass. The big, ungainly and galumphing theme that emerges turns strident and blustery and we end, well, to my ears with a nasty and insidious march that wraps things up with a sneer.

The audience’s applause at the end is quick and genuine and is soon faded out, if you’re not into that sort of thing. Otherwise they are commendably quiet and listen in near silence to the white-hot performance by the Moscow Philharmonic under Dmitri Yablonsky’s compelling direction. This is a symphony that seems to embody some musico-psychological confluence, its apparently random disjunctions seemingly, as we listen, as smooth and logical as a dream. Whatever meaning might lie behind it there is a compelling force to it; unsettling, wearing masks, ultimately military – and catastrophic.

Jonathan Woolf
MusicWeb, February 2005

This issue illustrates clearly how Naxos’s current strategy for releasing discs is working very well, and benefiting record collectors and music loving fans alike. Who would have thought, ten years ago, that a work like this would have been made available in excellent sound to a world-wide audience at budget price. Dmitry Yablonsky has recorded and issued previous discs in this series and most have been done with the Russian Philharmonic Orchestra. On the present disc, recorded live at a Moscow concert before a very quiet audience, we have the real McCoy in the Moscow Philharmonic (in excellent form) recorded in a very clear ambient acoustic.

Opinion has it that Boris Tishchenko is the heir to Shostakovich and since he was a favourite pupil of Shostakovich (how many favourite pupils he must have had!) there must be a link to the older composer. I do not believe Tishchenko shares much of Shostakovich’s sound world except in the sarcastic, jaunty themes as typified by the first movement. Tishchenko’s music is his own, quite distinctive, and well worth getting to know. It is tonal, reasonably tuneful and not at all hard work in listening. With all of the atonal, plink-plonk sounds around which purport to be music, as well as soupy film-like scores (a product of computer driven music boxes) it is very refreshing to come across a symphonic composer who appears to have something genuinely worthwhile to say.

The symphony starts with a jaunty little theme, which is extensively developed by the composer to encompass many moods on its way. About half way through this movement a passage for timpani is further developed for strings. Where the composer moves on the string themes are superseded by glissandi on the brass – very unusual and extremely powerful.

The second movement is an interlude, in name only, much like the second and fourth movements of Mahler’s 7th are interludes. This gives the whole symphony a cyclic feeling. The movement starts with a call to attention from brass and is followed by a passage for xylophone and piano. These shenanigans are brought to an abrupt conclusion by timpani and tom-toms. Then the movement climbs down and is brought to a sudden and violent conclusion.

The third movement is slow, and starts with a plaintive theme for oboe, accompanied by viola and trombone. The trombone rather gives the game away, as it soon starts to exhibit strange behaviour in the form of discordant slides which somewhat destroy the thematic development. This is comparable to the type of disruption first shown by the side drum in Nielsen’s 5th Symphony. The only minor disappointment with this movement is that the themes are not totally memorable - an opportunity missed. Perhaps, however it is my ears, rather than the composer at fault.

The fourth movement provides me with the lyrical atmosphere I found missing in the central movement. Although the themes are disrupted almost continually, there is a sense of repose which is highly engaging.

When we reach the finale, we are back in the skittish sound-world, with the themes being reinforced with pulsating percussion. The piccolo is very evident here which is vaguely reminiscent of Shostakovich, although the remainder of the orchestration is most unlike the older composer.

Throughout, the audience is absolutely silent apart from the odd quiet cough, and the typical rustle between movements. Applause at the conclusion is faded out fairly quickly by the engineers. From the details given by Naxos (i.e. a single recording day date), if they haven’t had any patching after the performance, would that we could experience the same commitment given by this Russian audience. This is totally in contrast to our designer coughers, plastic bag rustlers, to say nothing of constant chatting/mobile phones that the average audience has to put up with at the RFH or Barbican these days.

This is a marvellous release and should be snapped up by any music lover in search of a satisfying musical journey.

John Phillips
MusicWeb, August 2004

This is a live performance of an important piece. Boris Tishchenko’s Seventh Symphony, here receiving its world première recording, is a demanding work, and not only technically. Post-Shostakovich juxtapositions of diverse musics take both listener and performer on a helter-skelter ride and sometimes it does actually sound as if you’re at the carnival! Tishchenko, famously, studied with Shostakovich at the Leningrad Conservatory, where he is now a Professor, from 1962-65, having previously been under Galina Ustvolskaya at the Leningrad Musical College (1954-55). The over-riding influence is indeed Shostakovich, although some Prokofiev is also occasionally discernible (around 1’50 in the fourth movement, for example). What is for sure is that Tishchenko’s compositional confidence is mightily impressive, and that he is not a man to pull his punches.

The first movement establishes a music of juxtapositions. A jovial clarinet, itself a retort to the muted trumpet of the very opening, gives out an appealing dance, the rhythmic aspect emphasised by pizzicato strings. Jazz overtones appear from time to time, as do blatantly populist passages (e.g. around 7’15). Soviet jazz is a characteristic of the second movement, really quite riotous in its irreverent cheek - I defy you not to smile. The climax of these antics comes with a vamp-till-ready piano against a plain silly xylophone (1’44ff) - all of this moves towards an essentially good-natured anarchy.

Necessary contrast comes in the form of the third movement (no tempo indications are given for any of the movements). Woodwind writing is strikingly beautiful, right from the initial, snaky oboe solo. The emotive language is slightly distanced (à la Neo-Classical Stravinsky), giving Tishchenko the opportunity for an extended and gradual build-up; this movement lasts 11’08. A bassoon-dominated passage around the seven-minute mark is notably effective, as is the haunting close, with the call of a clarinet answered by muted horns.

The ghostly, disembodied, intermittently dancing fourth movement leads to the piping piccolo of the finale, a movement with a real sense of rhythmic play. Tishchenko presents a whirligig of commotion, which along with simpler passages nevertheless similarly imbued with a love of life itself, leads to positively manic percussion towards the end.

It is not every day in my reviewing work that I hear a piece that I immediately want to hear again, but this is one. The Moscow Philharmonic plays its heart out for Yablonsky, who himself seems at one with the composer. Sometimes, exploration of the fringe repertoire comes up trumps, and this is one such occasion. At super-budget price, it seems almost criminal not to investigate …

Naxos’ chosen cover picture is very effective indeed, an ‘Urban Landscape’ brought to life by almost-but-not-quite vibrant colours (by Ilya Ivanovich Mashkov, 1901-1944). Alas, Richard Whitehouse’s notes are hard going, and irritating to boot. There’s only a limited amount of times I can take ‘this happens, then this happens, then that happens before the second thing that happened, happens again’.

Other Tishchenko discs of note include a Fifth Symphony by the USSR Ministry of Culture Symphony Orchestra under Gennadi Rozhdestvensky on Melodyia MCD213 and Olympia discs of the Second Violin Concerto (OCD123) and the First and Fourth String Quartets (OCD547). An intriguingly titled ‘Piano Sonata with Bells’ appears on an Albany disc (TROY096); the Fifth Piano Sonata is on TROY135. A work list up to Op. 127 appears at http://home.wanadoo.nl/ovar/tishchen.htm.

Colin Clarke
MusicWeb, July 2004

Leningrad-born Boris Tishchenko (b. 1939) has achieved a measure of fame and is still alive. The Spanish composer Andrés Isasi (1890-1940) was born in Bilbao but studied in Berlin, his teachers including Engelbert Humperdinck. His music, at least what is presented on this CD, sounds more German than Spanish. But it the Russian Tishchenko who is the more interesting figure here, at least if I can judge from his Symphony No. 7.

Tishchenko clearly divulges the influence of Shostakovich throughout the work, especially in the last four of the work's five movements. The first movement starts with muted trumpets echoing music that recalls the opening of Shostakovich's Eleventh Symphony. There follows a jovial theme given by the clarinet over bouncy pizzicato strings, and soon a somber, ponderous motif is played by the strings. These various elements alternate before the music intensifies and eventually erupts in angry outbursts, with very active percussion. There is much dark humor and grotesquerie in this movement, and much in the ensuing movement as well. Here the main theme sounds like a variant of its counterpart in Debussy's Golliwog's Cakewalk. When the piano and xylophone enter the mood turns to pure rollicking slapstick, but, as in the first movement, the music turns intense and then begins to grow more unruly by the measure. Again the timpani play a large role in the utterly shattering climactic passages that follow.

The third movement features a haunting, obsessive theme, played by oboe and later taken up by strings. The mood is dark and meditative throughout. In the fourth movement, things brighten a bit with an elegant, somewhat wistful theme for strings, but the feeling of loneliness pervades the music, even during the slightly comical passage for brass and woodwind at the center of the movement. The finale begins with a joyous theme for piccolo and strings, tinged with Spanish flavors. When the bassoon takes up the theme, one cannot help but hear the voice of Shostakovich everywhere. Again, the music darkens in the interior portions and though the main theme returns, it does not dispel the shadows that have crept in. The symphony ends with a brash, garish restatement of the main theme, in what comes across as mock triumph. Yablonsky and his Moscow players turn in a splendid performance and the sound is vivid.

Robert Cummings
Classical Net, 2004