Dmitry Shostakovich

Born in 1906, it is the centenary of this the foremost Russian composer of the twentieth century. Everywhere he has been performed, as we have indicated in other postings on this series. A friend of mine was present at a concert recently when his 7th Symphony was played. Apparently at its end the normally staid Liverpool audience rose to its feet. ‘I didn’t like it at all’ said my friend, remaining in his seat. Good for him. It’s a visceral almost feral work, and you would have to be a very unusual person to ‘like’ it, though I can imagine people being bowled over by the sheer force of it.

Recently in a fit of enthusiasm I bought CD’s of all fifteen symphonies (conducted by Mariss Jansons) and have been spending time trying to learn them (sometimes, I confess, trying to love or at least understand them). I am now listening to the seventh for the second time in succession, which may not be wise. After its early popularity, with its theme of the battle of Stalingrad and the heroism of the citizens, it has had a more critical reception. It is a brutal and strange work, the first and last movements in danger of outstaying their welcome.

Like all his works, the composer was battling with trying to be faithful to the musical revolution he was living through and the soviet revolution that he was subject to. He was also a complicated man, often suffering from mental and emotional stress which was not altogether caused by the artistic restrictions imposed by the government. I always find it difficult not to make a connection between the known character and personal circumstances of a composer and his or her music. In the case of Shostakovich it is impossible to do otherwise. He is essentially of his time and place, but the Russian soul of the man was in the end triumphant over the appalling Soviet regime.

I heard the fifth symphony performed at Bristol recently. The excellent Bournemouth Symphony was conducted by Yan Pascal Tortelier in a well studied but free performance of this particularly approachable of Shostakovich’s symphonies. I played one of my recordings of the work the next day, and it was good but it wasn’t the same. The plaintive slow movement, an adagio reminiscent of Mahler in the same mood, had little of the sense of occasion that the concert had created. Even the very best recording listened to by an audience of one, can never be a substitute to a live event. It’s a fine alternative if there are no concert halls for people to get to, of course and many of us have to be content with that. But to be present when music is actually being made is a privilege I am so grateful to have.

Meanwhile I have another eight symphonies to attend to!

B.R.

Good News....

....that Spain is to have its own National Classical Ballet Company, to bring home their many talented dancers who have been forced abroad. Its base will be in the Madrid dormitory town of Fuenlabrada. The local Mayor there, Manuel Robles, has apparently been working on this project for some time and has the support of Tamara Rojo, principal dancer at the Royal Ballet, and Alicia Alonso, the founder and director of Cuba’s national ballet who has a dance institute in the town’s University.

Alonso, now 85 and blind, is a living legend and anyone who has her on their side is likely to get what they want. She was afflicted with an eye defect when she was 19 and since then her partners have always had to be in the exact place she expected them to be. She used lights in different parts of the stage to help guide her.

She was a founding member of the American Ballet Theatre, and despite her disability, became one of their leading ballerinas, working with Mikhail Fokine, George Balanchine, Leonide Massine, Antony Tudor, Jerome Robbins and Agnes de Mille. Her partnership with Igor Youskevitch became famous and together with him she joined Ballets Russes de Monte Carlo in 1955. I saw the recent film of that Company a few weeks ago, and she and her partner featured amongst many others. Coincidently I also heard an interview with her on the radio the other day when she was extolling Cuba’s commitment to ballet. A very formidable lady.

Admitting that she is involved in the formation of Spain’s own Ballet Company, Tamara Rojo has said that ‘the idea is there, but it is going to take time. Nothing is going to happen immediately. Things have to be done properly’. The El Mundo newspaper claims that Rojo will spend 70% of her time in Spain, providing that she can reach an agreement with the Royal Ballet.

It all sounds a bit tentative but hopefully is more than just a story in the press. With Spain’s long history of music and dance it would certainly be a natural development for the country to have its own Ballet Company. But will it only be classical ballet? Surely there needs to be experimental choreography as well, and some sort of marriage between traditional flamenco and modern dance. We await developments with interest.

B.R.

Sir Malcolm Arnold 1921-2006

Malcolm Arnold died last week and we are left with memories of the confusion of his life and conflicting views on his enormous musical output. He was a prodigious composer with more than a hundred film scores, numerous chamber and orchestral compositions, 20 concertos and, what he regarded as his best work, nine symphonies. His music was full of contradictions: at one moment full of melody to be followed by dissonance and apparently illogical interventions. Although he appealed to many listeners, the critics had little time for him and his belated knighthood when he was in his late seventies reflected the disapproval of the musical elite.

I read a biography of Arnold last year – ‘Rogue Genius’ by Anthony Meredith and Paul Harris - and was disturbed by its harsh depiction of a man who fought mental illness and alcoholism and as a consequence had a disastrous private life and could often cause extreme embarrassment to the friends he made, often testing their loyalty to the point of breakdown. His irrational and rude behaviour when enjoying William and Susanna Walton’s hospitality is one notable example. His roguishness is clearly of more importance to these authors than his genius. But the warmth and humour in his music reflects the more generous and convivial side of his character. Perhaps one day it will achieve a permanent place in the repertoire

I have always had a regard for his inventiveness and his refusal to belong to any school of composition, although he was clearly influenced by Mahler, Berlioz and Shostakovich. I have CD’s of the symphonies, recorded in his presence by Naxos, and enjoy their luxuriant but basically simple orchestral colour. Originally a trumpeter – he led that section of the London Philharmonic Orchestra for a while- orchestra players regarded him as one of their own. Certainly he relished writing for brass and woodwind. But the man of many tunes had a darker side and these works demand patience and attention, particularly the ninth which took so long during his years of mental confusion to write, and far too long to be given its first performance.

The BBC had little time for Arnold though belatedly – and ironically now that he is dead – Radio 3 is marking what would have been his 85th birthday by making him composer of the week next month. As an obituary in The Guardian says we have lost ‘another of the great individualists who helped to make 20th Century music so gloriously untidy.’ R.I.P.

B.R.