You need not be familiar with all the Russian revolutionary songs quoted in Shostakovich’s Eleventh Symphony to appreciate its patriotic fervor or relevance to current events. Sixty-five years after it was written, the sounds of war and underlying sense of historical inevitability ring more true than ever. And with Semyon Bychkov conducting the Czech Philharmonic, its authenticity and impact were undeniable.
The symphony’s subtitle, “The Year 1905”, refers to what is now known as the First Russian Revolution, in particular the events of Bloody Sunday, when soldiers shot and killed hundreds of unarmed protesters descending on the Winter Palace in St Petersburg. In a departure from his usual style, Shostakovich recounts this as a narrative, brought to vivid life under Bychkov’s baton. The suspense built as the protesters gathered, then exploded as the soldiers attacked them in a hail of gunfire. After the fallen were mourned, a final flood of emotions punctuated by church bells offered both defiance and a warning.
Bychkov’s control of this fiery material was masterful, especially in building and establishing mood and tone. The clash in the second movement was electric in its intensity, a maelstrom with the wrenching dissonance of casualties clear amid the tumult. But much of that power derives from setting it up properly, which Bychkov handled with great care and sensitivity. The opening low strings and steady tapping on the timpani simmered and grew gradually, invoking an increasingly ominous atmosphere. The recurrent trumpet calls became hollow, reinforced by jagged, off-key outbursts in the brass and woodwinds. The tension was palpable leading up to the assault, and the funeral march afterward felt inevitable, with the entire movement and momentum of the piece inexorably pulling listeners into tragedy.
The opening theme recurs throughout the symphony, and with Bychkov’s steady, pulsing tempo, it added a deeper, universal dimension. Battles rage, protests are crushed, lives and societies destroyed, but the larger contours never change. Shostakovich used 1905 as a departure point to telescope 50 years of Russian tyranny, including the repression of the Hungarian Revolution in 1956. There is courage and compassion in the music, but also a pervasive sense of fatality, of history repeating itself. There were flashes of hope in Bychkov’s treatment, which never fell into despair. But the final bells – cleverly hammered out on a brass rail overlooking the stage – offered no resolution. Instead, they tolled out remembrance, resistance and a reminder of the need to remain vigilant.
Had the program opened with Shostakovich, it would be tempting to call Rachmaninov’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini the icing on the cake, especially with Behzod Abduraimov at the keyboard. The Uzbek pianist has some of the fastest hands in the business and fingers that hit the keys like raindrops, soft but deliberate. And his technical prowess is such that he was not so much fluent in the Rhapsody as immersed in it, reveling in the music, adding sparkle to the blizzard of daunting runs. Even the familiar 18th variation sounded fresh, graceful and elegant to start, then swelling with luxuriant passion.
Bychkov provided a supportive backdrop, a muted palette rich in detail but never distracting. It was a treat to watch him rev up the orchestra for a virtuoso tandem with Abduraimov culminating in a rip-roaring finish. And a pleasant surprise to see the pianist take his bows perfectly poised, coat still buttoned and bow tie neatly in place, like a marathon runner who didn’t even break a sweat. Rachmaninov himself reportedly needed a bracer of crème de menthe to get through the rigors of the piece.
What lingers, though, are those haunting bells and one of the comments Shostakovich made when asked about 1905: “It is about the people who have stopped believing because the cup of evil has run over.” The evil endures, but this concert went a long way toward inspiring belief in a better world.
