General Interest Review 00008

Symphony No. 8 in C minor, "Stalingrad"

Russian composer Dmitri Shostakovich's eighth symphony was premiered in 1943. It is a challenging work. The symphony begins with a 25-minute section that never moves beyond a crawl. Beginning at the end of the second movement, the work takes a dynamic turn that eventually leads to showy bombast. A bridge-like fourth movement gives way to a slow and somber ending.

As with everything in Shostakovich's career at this period, the cat-and-mouse game with the Stalinist-era censors colors many interpretations of the piece, especially the first movement. The censors let the piece stand despite its rich expression, rangy meandering and the decidedly thinking-man's feel present throughout. It's not hard to picture a little smirk and and a rise of the bushy eyebrows above the frames of those inimical round glasses as this one was performed freely. He must've figured he got away with it. The only thing the censors turned out not to like was the broad canvas that left things open for personal interpretation. They appended the Stalingrad subtitle to fit the piece as a remembrance of the war dead at that battle with the Nazis.

World War II, which was then taking place inside Russia, also figures heavily into many interepretations. The bombastic section is thought to take place on the battlefield, with the finale perhaps expressing resurgence, exhausted survival, or a grief-stricken farewell.

Shostakovich's music and biography are so closely associated by scholars that it remains difficult to forget all of this background noise and allow a reaction to emerge from within. If Shostakovich's only mission was to rail against censors, then why didn't he write political treatises under a pen name? The first movement is supposed to be an expression of only oppression, but it causes me to feel free of the small, nagging worries of life. The third movement mimics the battlefield, but by the end it makes me want to dance.

From the front row of the Boston Symphony Orchestra a couple years back, the huge dynamic range of the piece was the most obvious feature. The volume of the loudest sections were more tenacious than classical music has always seemed to be able to handle, while the quieter sections were as gentle as all those pieces that were made to shift the mind toward water lilies. The conductor at the performance was a sturdy man, but needed to be helped onto the podium. Once he arrived, the piece thrust him to life. He sang along audibly to some of the most lyrical sections, cued the horns lovingly, precisely counted in the violas to begin the third movement. Even his posture perked up. When the ovation was over, he looked tired, and hunched over a little more as he walked to exit the stage.