Day 104
14 April 2017: Shostakovich – Symphony No.7
'Leningrad' (1941)
The symphonies written by Dmitri
Shostakovich between 1935 and 1945 transcended music and took on a far greater
political and historical significance. The fourth and fifth symphonies emerged
from his battles with the Soviet authorities, but by the time he came to write
his seventh, Russia was in the grip of a war with the invading Nazis. Once
again the music he wrote took on a life of its own, and became an act of
resistance. Shostakovich dedicated the symphony to the city of Leningrad, which
at the time of the work's completion was under siege by the Germans. The Siege
of Leningrad wouldn't be lifted for another two years, by which time well over
a million people had died.
Incredibly, this symphony was performed in
Leningrad during the Siege, in 1942 by the half-starved remnants of the
Leningrad Radio Orchestra. The performance was broadcast on loudspeakers all
over the city – a quite extraordinary act of defiance. The music itself is
imposing, even by Shostakovich's breathtaking standards. It is his longest
symphony, and at around 80 minutes is only surpassed in the standard orchestral
repertoire by a handful of other works. The defining feature of the symphony is
the so-called 'invasion theme' that occupies roughly the central third of the
gigantic first movement. This 22-bar march theme starts in barely audible
pizzicato strings and builds through 12 repetitions in a relentless ten-minute
crescendo of increasing savagery. The other three movements are similarly
impassioned and taut, eventually culminating in another of the composer's
ambiguous endings of forced triumphalism. Much has been made of the fact that
the symphony was written before the Siege of Leningrad actually began, so it
clearly couldn't have depicted the actual events. The dedication is entirely
suitable though. The Russians eventually fought off the invading forces, but
the victory won was a cost so colossal as to be beyond comprehension.
Day 105
15 April 2017: Bruch – Symphony No. 3
(1886)
Max Bruch is, rather unfairly, seen as a
one-hit wonder. Much as Pachelbel's Canon
or Cesar Franck's Symphony in D
dominate those composers' respective outputs, Bruch's Violin Concerto No. 1 is just about the only work many casual
classical music fans would be aware of. There is plenty of other good stuff out
there of course, Kol Nidrei, for
example, and a lovely Concerto for
Clarinet, Viola and Orchestra. And then there are three symphonies of
admittedly variable quality.
The third is probably the best of them.
It's a perfectly good late-Romantic symphony, that maybe just lacks a really
memorable tune to enable it to stand out from the crowd. It was written in
Liverpool, oddly enough, when Bruch was, for a short time, conductor of the
Liverpool Philharmonic. While it may have been written in England, it depicts
the Rhineland of Bruch's birth and is laden with folk-like melodies and the
bustle of rural village life. To be honest, it's not on a par with the famed violin
concerto, but it's definitely worth more of an airing than it presently gets.
Day 106
16 April 2017: Henze – Symphony No. 7
(1984)
Hans Werner Henze was one of the most
complex characters in contemporary music and is rightly regarded as one of the
greatest composers of the second half of the twentieth century. His leftist
political views and homosexuality led to his moving to Italy from his native
Germany when he was in his late-twenties, by which point his music was already
starting to absorb a myriad of influences from serialism to jazz.
The seventh is the most orthodox and
best-known of his ten symphonies; Henze even stated that it was in the
Beethovenian tradition. It is a work I became familiar with through a BBC
documentary called The Middle of Life,
broadcast in 1987, which chronicled the British premiere of this symphony,
given by the CBSO under Simon Rattle at the previous year's Proms to mark
Henze's 60th birthday. It made an instant impression on me, especially the
final movement, which is a beautiful un-sung setting of Friedrich Hölderlin's
poem Hälfte des Lebens. It is a
marked contrast to a lively, rhythmic and wildly dissonant first movement.
There is so much going on throughout the symphony that it is impossible to
absorb it all in one listen, but even a single hearing is a highly rewarding
experience.
Day 107
17 April 2017: Haydn – Symphony No. 49, 'La
Passione' (1768)
Josef Haydn was deeply immersed in his Sturm und Drang period of composition
when he wrote his forty-ninth symphony in 1768. The title of La Passione is, in fact, thought not to
have anything to do with the emotional content of this era of the German arts,
but is attributable to a bit of jiggery-pokery to ensure an Easter performance
in Schwerin in 1790. The symphony was said to be based on the Passion, thus
circumventing the restrictions on secular music during Holy Week. It's somewhat appropriate therefore that I've chosen to listen to this on Easter Monday.
The structure is unusual for the Classical
era, in that it adopts the Baroque form of a Sonata da chiesa (church sonata) of successively slow, fast, slow,
and fast movements. Hence it opens with an Adagio,
and it is one of unusual darkness. Indeed the whole work, apart from the trio
of the third movement, is in F minor, thus there is very little let-up in the
seriousness of the piece. It's a symphony very much odds with the general
perception of Haydn as a composer of lightweight, court-pleasing music.
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