It must be admitted that the first time I heard the Shostakovich Leningrad Symphony quoted, it was in an anime called "The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya" as the background midi music for a game called "Day of Sagittarius III". Like with another fantastic quote of Mahler Symphony 5 mvt 3 at the end of the series, I found myself hearing the full version considerably later and nodding appreciation at the music director's taste.
On a more professional note, I had also attended a presentation at Benaroya Hall by second violin member Stephen Bryant, who had the luck of being "twelfth man" -- quite literally as the twelfth chair second violinist who performed a magnificent counter-solo to Alexander Velinzon's center stage solo. Bryant opened his talk by explaining that the "most magnificent, deepest piece of music in the orchestral repertoire" was the Schnittke Violin Concerto no. 4. His description of a piece which I had never even heard of before intrigued me; and in the pre-concert lecture, this sensation was echoed by speaker Claudia R. Jensen: "The only word to describe this work is...'Fantastic'." While this indeed is the first adjective that came to mind as I started to hear the actual thing, I think that for me a more specific description is the word "riveting".
Indeed, I sat through the concerto riveted. The eclectic nature of the work alone, with its moody themes tossed back and forth with whip-lash speed between baroque, classical, and just plain "lots of minor seconds everywhere", with harpsichord, celeste, two sets of orchestral bells, prepared piano, and an active vibraphone section in the percussion, was enough to elicit a whole array of emotional reactions, from creepy chills to sporadic laughter. The highly lyrical quality of the melody, a variant of the Westminster chime, anchored the attention of the ear amid the otherwise helter-skelter themes, harmonies and rhythms scattered in a decisively free-form structure (one of my friends described it as "[Schnittke] has the Post-Modern philosophy of hiding the coolness of the piece in a bunch of noisy clutter". Another would like me to quote her as saying "It sounds like driving a bus full of musicians through a wormhold.") With impeccable timing, the music utilizes sweetness dragged into monotony for just long enough to tempt one to look at one's watch...and then quite suddenly dive into loud cacophony. In all honesty, I must contrast this with the third and final movements of the Shostakovich, which did contain more length than the ear might desire.
One somewhat jarring effect of the concerto is the instruction for the violinist to perform a "cadenza visuale", in which Velinzon actually lifted the bow completely above the strings of his instrument and performed sweeping, exaggerated motions without even touching horsehair to catgut. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this instruction, although I think that if played quite seriously and not quite as blatantly, it might have a startling effect.
As for the Leningrad Symphony, its length is really the only complaint I have with it. Otherwise I found myself rubbing the goosebumps on my arms the entire time. The first movement is a staggering 20 minutes long in itself, but the transition from the beginning theme, a sturdy, placid theme of a sturdy, placid people, to the ominous off-stage snare drum, ushering in the famous march theme, repeated over and over to a terrifying climax, to the "battle" music, and ending back with the original theme, now faded and inglorious, is extraordinary, reminiscent of the buildup of Ravel's Bolero, yet more encompassing and certainly longer. The second movement was pleasant; the third I have no fond memories of, and the fourth felt like something stretched out too long into a giant buildup, finishing with a "Lord of the Rings" climax...which is to say, a series of which continually felt like the end without actually being the end.
My reservations with its length notwithstanding, I must add the Leningrad Symphony has an impressive history, as Shostakovich was living in Leningrad when it was being besieged by Hitler's armies in 1941. He completed three movements during the siege, while working as a fire fighter at the same time. The symphony was smuggled across borders, through Casablanca to the States, where it received such a welcome as a patriotic masterpiece that it was performed over sixty times in the first year of its welcome in the US alone. Whether its accolades are due to the integrity of the music, or to its sensational background, I think only time will tell.
Until next time, до свидания my friends...
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