“Petrenko and the RLPO have achieved a triumph. The orchestral playing is ripe, detailed, lithe, concentrated and intense.” – The Telegraph on Symphony No. 10

“The final instalment of Petrenko’s remarkable Liverpool Shostakovich cycle is a world-class achievement.” – The Sunday Times on Symphony No. 13

“This is a model of clarity… yet another Petrenko performance to join the greats.” – BBC Music Magazine on Symphony No. 8

Featuring the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic orchestra and Choir conducted by Vasily Petrenko
Additional featured choirs:
The Huddersfield Choral Society; Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Choir, male section.
Vocal soloists: Gal James, soprano; Alexander Vinogradov, bass.

This recording, previously issued on Marco Polo in its film music series, now reappears at budget price on Naxos, and it's quite welcome. The Fall of Berlin, a typical World War II saga depicting Russian heroism and the last days of Hitler, inspired Shostakovich to some good battle music and more than a few characterful episodes depicting both sides of the ongoing struggle. There's no reason to believe that the composer did not sincerely desire the defeat of Germany, and so did not take this particular job seriously, all questions of Socialist Realism aside. In any event, the film offered the chance to write a lot of music, some 45 minutes' worth, much of it unusually extended and developed. The result is certainly listenable on its own apart from the film, even if for obvious reasons the score is more than a bit strident and relentless in depicting both struggle and triumph.

Shostakovich took pride in much of his work for films, even while regarding it as something apart from his career as a "serious" composer. It's easy to understand why: as André Previn once mentioned, the requirements of working on movies tend to minimize opportunities for "the elongated thought." That said, The Unforgettable Year 1919 offered Shostakovich the chance to write a full-blown romantic piano concerto movement similar to Addinsell's Warsaw Concerto, and he produced something eminently cinematic, if utterly atypical of his more familiar style. The track in question is somewhat confusingly called The Assault on the Red Hill, and you can have a lot of fun playing it for your friends and asking them to guess the composer. The performances are a bit rough and ready, not unusual given this source, but they're certainly in character and vividly recorded. Shostakovich fans will need no further urging from me.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

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Shostakovich: Gadfly Suite (The) / Five Days-Five Nights Sui

The Execution of Stepan Razin is a sort of sequel to the 13th Symphony, in that it sets a poem by Yevtushenko and even shares some thematic elements. It really is a magnificent work, and at half an hour, a major statement. Shostakovich put all of his considerable skill as a composer of film music into making the accompaniments as colorful as possible, while the choral writing and passages for bass solo are thrilling. Why it's not better known remains a mystery: it deserves to be as popular as Prokofiev's Alexander Nevsky or Rachmaninov's The Bells.


This is a very exciting performance, with fine work from the chorus and a terrific orchestral contribution making for climaxes of terrifying impact. Bass soloist Charles Robert Austin lacks the last degree of Russian depth to his tone, and he has a tendency to shout in order to compensate for the lack of weight, but he gets through the part with his honor intact. If you don't know this spectacular piece, here at last is an easy and inexpensive way to hear it.


I enjoyed the couplings too, though they are not significant Shostakovich. October is a typical piece of Socialist Realism close in tone to the 12th Symphony, but it's very exciting and effectively written, and only the obligatory triumphant ending, which Shostakovich makes no attempt to reconcile with the tone of the rest of the piece, lets it down a bit. Once again, the performance has the necessary grit and drive.


The Four Fragments bear a slight relationship to the music of the Fourth Symphony (the goofy waltz in the finale, especially), but are so, well, fragmentary that I wonder why they are played at all. In last analysis, they remain a curiosity and little more, but I can't argue with including them to round out a program nicely organized as "sequels and prequels" to various symphonies. Very fine sound, with a big, rich bass response that suits the music well, seals the deal. Essential for Shostakovich fans. [3/22/2006]
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Eugenio Catone continues the development of Shostakovich's complete piano works by presenting the third volume. Few piano cycles of the 20th century can boast an impact and a resonance comparable to those of Dmitri Shostakovich's 24 Preludes and Fugues Op. 87. This work, which holds a special place both in the composer's output and in the history of the genre itself, represents a significant return to writing for his instrument, seventeen years after Piano Concerto no.1 Op. 35 (1933), in a context deeply changed both on a personal level and in relation to the evolution of his musical language. Shostakovich held Op. 87 in special consideration: he recorded several numbers on multiple occasions and devoted himself to transcribing each Prelude and Fugue for several performers, with the aim of recording the entire work with a home recorder, thus making it's polyphonic architecture as clear as possible.

Arvids Jansons (1914-1984) was born in Liepaja on Latvia's west coast. He studied violin from 1929 until 1935 at the Conservatory of Liepaja, then composition and conducting (under Leo Blech) at the Conservatory of Riga from 1940 until 1944 while working as a violinist at Riga Opera. In 1944 he was appointed conductor of Riga Opera, then of the Latvian Radio Orchestra (1947-1952). In 1952 he was appointed associate conductor of the Leningrad Philharmonic under Yevgeny Mravinsky and toured frequently with them, as well as with other Russian orchestras, to the UK and to the Continent from 1970 onwards. Jansons became principal guest conductor of Manchester's Hall� Orchestra in 1965 at the personal invitation of Sir John Barbirolli, who knew of Jansons as an expert orchestral conductor but a genius in the rehearsal studio. It was in Manchester that Jansons collapsed and died from a heart attack in 1984 while conducting a concert with the Hall�. Arvids was the father of Mariss Jansons (1943-2019).

Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975) composed two piano concertos that stand as strikingly different yet complementary reflections of his evolving musical and emotional world. The Piano Concerto No.1 in C minor, Op. 35 (1933), written for piano, trumpet, and string orchestra, is a work of youthful brilliance and wit. Shostakovich himself was the soloist at it's premiere, showcasing his virtuosity and sharp humor. The concerto brims with parody, irony, and stylistic playfulness-traits that would define much of his music. The first movement alternates between dramatic, driving passages and cheeky references to classical motifs. The second movement offers a surprisingly lyrical, melancholic interlude before the music veers back into high-spirited satire. The inclusion of the trumpet, often acting as a witty commentator or foil to the piano, adds to the concerto's sense of mischievous dialogue. Beneath the humor, however, lies an undercurrent of anxiety and intensity, reflecting Shostakovich's growing awareness of the political pressures surrounding Soviet artists in the 1930s. The Piano Concerto No.2 in F major, Op. 102 (1957), by contrast, is lighter, more transparent, and more optimistic. Written as a gift for his son Maxim's 19th birthday, it is among Shostakovich's most accessible works. The outer movements sparkle with energy and joy, evoking the vitality of youth, while the slow movement stands as one of the composer's most beautiful lyrical statements-a tender, introspective melody that has become a concert favorite. Although less satirical and complex than the First Concerto, the Second demonstrates Shostakovich's mastery of clear form, elegant orchestration, and emotional directness. Giuseppe Andaloro (Palermo, 1982) is one of the most acclaimed Italian pianists of his generation. Winner of prestigious international competitions-including the Ferruccio Busoni (Bolzano), London World, Sendai, Hong Kong, and Porto-he was awarded the Medal for Artistic Merit by the Italian Ministry of Culture in 2005. He has performed in some of the world's leading venues: Teatro alla Scala and Sala Verdi in Milan, Teatro San Carlo in Naples, Mozarteum in Salzburg, Konzerthaus Berlin, Salle Gaveau in Paris, Royal Festival Hall in London, Sumida Triphony Hall in Tokyo, Esplanade in Singapore, and Concert Hall in Hong Kong. He has appeared at renowned festivals such as the Salzburg Festival, Ruhr Piano Festival, Spoleto Festival dei Due Mondi, George Enescu Festival, Ravello Festival, and Beirut Al Bustan. As soloist, he has collaborated with orchestras such as the London Philharmonic, NHK Symphony (Tokyo), Philharmonische Camerata Berlin, Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia, and Hong Kong Philharmonic, under the direction of conductors like Vladimir Ashkenazy, Gianandrea Noseda, and Andrew Parrott.

Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975) stands as one of the most compelling and complex composers of the twentieth century. Living and working in the Soviet Union, he was constantly caught between personal artistic expression and the demands of a highly restrictive political system. His music often reflects this tension, combining sharp irony, deep tragedy, and moments of bleak humor. Among his chamber works, the two piano trios hold a special place, offering an intimate window into his emotional world at two very different stages of his life. Shostakovich's Piano Trio No.1 in C minor, Op.8, was composed in 1923, when he was only sixteen years old. Despite his youth, the trio already shows remarkable maturity. Written in a single movement, it reveals a lyrical and introspective character, strongly influenced by late Romantic traditions. Long, singing melodies and rich harmonies dominate the work, especially in the piano part. More than twenty years later, in 1944, Shostakovich composed the Piano Trio No.2 in E minor, Op.67, one of his most powerful chamber works. Written during World War II and dedicated to the memory of his close friend Ivan Sollertinsky, the trio confronts themes of death, grief, and suffering. It's four movements range from haunting stillness to violent intensity. The final movement is particularly striking, incorporating Jewish musical elements that suggest both mourning and bitter irony, possibly alluding to the atrocities of the Holocaust. Also included are the 7 Romances on Poems by Alexander Blok, a vocal cycle for soprano, violin, cello, and piano in which each piece explores a different instrumental combination - from duos to the full ensemble. In these Romances, music becomes inward speech - whispered, often suspended over silence. Blok's poems, filled with dreamlike visions and disturbing symbols, become the very fabric of the composition: each word, each image, finds it's sonic counterpart in a language of subtle timbres, controlled dissonance, and unresolved tension. The result is a cycle of miniature music-theatre scenes in which the voice and instruments do not merely accompany, but engage in dialogue. Played with great intensity and commitment by the Trio Kanon and soprano Irina Dubrovskaya.

Vladimir Delman was undoubtedly one of the most extraordinary conductors to be appeared in Italy between 1970 and 1990. Unfortunately, the considerable number of his recordings (all of the highest quality) in the 1990s were partially released in mediocre editions by Fonit Cetra. Then, in the following years, his recording material disappeared after his death in the middle of the decade. Today, thanks to friends and the person entrusted with managing his estate, we can publish a good portion of those recordings, starting from the original master tapes, especially those of a group of composers much loved by the maestro, especially Tchaikovsky, Mahler, and Shostakovich.

Recorded in: Caird Hall, Dundee 22-23 February 1988 Producer(s) Brian Couzens Sound Engineer(s) Ralph Couzens Janet Middlebrook (Assistant)

SHOSTAKOVICH Cello Concertos Nos. 1 and 2 • Truls Mørk (vc); Vasily Petrenko, cond; Oslo PO • ONDINE 1218-2 (64:59) Live: Oslo 1/30–2/1/2013


These cello concertos are relatively late works, and both were written for Mstislav Rostropovich. The First appeared in 1959, six years after the death of Stalin, at a time when official pressure on the composer had eased––yet Shostakovich never got over the terrors of the 1940s. This is the perfect work to illustrate the position he was in. Soviet authorities at the time of the Cold War were locked into an “anything you can do, we can do better” standoff with the rest of the world, particularly with the USA, so they needed to show off their world-famous composer. For the same reason, they allowed the West access to their greatest musicians, including Rostropovich. All was fine as long as everybody toed the official Communist line, but Soviet officials never really trusted Shostakovich, and rightly so. The concerto quite plainly depicts the cries of a desperate individual (the cello) up against the power of the state (the orchestra). There is no room for compromise on either side. In the cadenza preceding the finale, the cello hopelessly repeats thematic fragments like a soul trapped, while a passage of sour, circus-like music in the final movement sees the protagonist going through his paces with pointless, frenzied zeal. The work is unambiguously autobiographical: Shostakovich introduces himself in the cello’s opening phrases with the repeated DSCH motif, so there is never any doubt who this solo cello is intended to personify.


The Second Cello Concerto was composed in 1966, just prior to Symphony No. 14, a symphonic song cycle in which he set poems on the subject of death. The two works came in the wake of a heart attack. Fittingly, the cello part, while still in opposition to outside forces, now seems more reflective and less inclined to protest (except for parts of the short Allegretto movement). The brief cadenza in this work depicts resignation: quiet desperation and regret rather than defiance, an attitude that would color all of the composer’s subsequent music.


This kind of pop-psych analysis of Shostakovich’s music is frowned upon in some quarters, but is inescapable when faced with a recording like this one. Mørk identifies completely with the cello-as-individual approach, as anyone who has seen and heard him live in the First Concerto will attest. He attacks both works with every fiber of his being, to coin a cliché, precisely conveying each emotional nuance of the score. The personal nature of his performance is emphasized here by a close-up recording: We hear both soloist and orchestra from the conductor’s point of view, literally “in your face.” Petrenko’s Shostakovich has been much praised, and he elicits thoroughly committed playing from the soloists and sections of the orchestra. At the very opening of the First Concerto, where the cello’s DSCH phrases are answered by repeated chords in the winds, I thought their response was a fraction slower each time than the tempo set by Mørk, or at least not as decisively delivered. From then on the orchestral support is unswerving, with exceptionally strong work from the first horn.


The Norwegian cellist has recorded both concertos before. His previous disc was made in 1995 for Virgin, where he was accompanied by the London Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Mariss Jansons. (Ironically, Jansons was then Chief Conductor of the Oslo Philharmonic.) That earlier recording has a more straightforward balance, with the orchestra set back, allowing Mørk’s cello to dominate. His interpretation does not seem to have changed substantially over 18 years––he was magnificent then, too––but the current recording brings greater immediacy. The London orchestra strikes me as tighter in ensemble but less emotionally involved. The earlier disc is nevertheless extremely fine. I would also recommend hearing the larger-than-life, Romantically inclined rendition of both concertos on DG by Misha Maisky (with the London Symphony Orchestra under Michael Tilson Thomas)––especially moving in the Second––and it goes without saying that Rostropovich in any of his recordings is in a class of his own.


FANFARE: Phillip Scott

SHOSTAKOVICH: Symphony No. 9 / Suite from Katerina Ismailova

Billed as the start of a new complete Shostakovich symphony cycle, this initial entry holds a great deal of promise. The Eleventh Symphony has more the character of a film score than a traditional symphonic work: it thrives on atmosphere, color, and the repetition of simple tunes and motives rather than drama created by development and tonal contrast. Conductor Vasily Petrenko certainly understands this, whether in capturing the ghostly string timbres of the opening (reinforced by celesta on its many subsequent returns), in the crushing massacre sequence in the second movement, or in the splashy ending, with cymbals, bells, and tam-tam making cinematic contributions.

Petrenko's also very sensible in his handling of tempo. The first and third movements don't drag; the second and fourth have plenty of excitement with rhythms that never turn mechanical (as they have a tendency to do, what with so much militaristic march music). The Royal Liverpool Philharmonic plays very well, with distinguished contributions from all departments. My only quibble concerns the slightly backward positioning and lack of clarity afforded the timpanist, who carries much of the thematic substance of the first movement and presides over the massacre's percussion fusillades. Otherwise, this is pretty terrific on all counts. I recommend it accordingly, and look forward to the continuation of the cycle. [4/2/2009]

--David Hurwitz, ClassicssToday.com

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SHOSTAKOVICH (arr. Atovmian) The Young Guard: Suite. Zoya: Suite 1 • Walter Mnatsakonov, cond; 1 Minsk Ch C; Belarusian RTV SO • DELOS 2001 (61: 37)


The Russian Disc label has been gone for a while now, and with it some interesting Russian repertoire otherwise not available. Apparently Delos feels our loss, since it has embarked on a rerelease of four CDs of Shostakovich film-score suites from the departed label. This is the first of the releases, recorded by the Belarusian Radio and Television Symphony Orchestra in 1995, four years after the independence of Belarus and the collapse of the Soviet Union. (I have corrected Delos’s anachronistic use of the old Soviet name.) That a so recently liberated Belarusian orchestra was willing to record these suites says something for their emotional integrity. The memories here evoked, even 50 years later, are part of a devastatingly painful collective memory of bitter losses during World War II, and at the hands of Stalin before.


It is, after all, easy to dismiss Shostakovich’s film scores as mere accompaniment to Soviet propaganda. In fact, he wrote his 34 film scores for a number of reasons; some to pay the bills and for political expediency, but many out of conviction. These two wartime films fit in the latter category. The films extol real heroism and personal sacrifice, and the composer responds with music that is poignant, inventive, and emotionally honest. Coming on the heels of the 1946 censure of the Ninth Symphony for “ideological weakness,” no doubt The Young Guard also seeks to ingratiate. And yet, with its Coates-like main theme and relatively subdued expression, this is not everyday Soviet populism. Even The Death of Heroes , a stirring funeral march in Shostakovich’s public style, suggests by its gravity that the homage to the martyred young Ukrainian resistance fighters is sincere. The 1944 Zoya is more characteristic of Soviet expectations, with its triumphalist chorus of eternal memory and bellicose marches, yet here as well, in the heartbreaking passages for muted duo violins, and the Mahlerian interlude in the “Apotheosis,” we feel the composer’s honest admiration for Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya, the 18-year-old guerilla fighter captured, tortured, and executed when resisting the 1941 invasion of Russia.


These two suites are 1950s reworkings of the film scores, with some additions, by Armenian composer Levon Atovmian. (Delos misspells it as Avtomyan.) He made a number of composer-approved arrangements of Shostakovich’s more popular music, including the familiar Ballet Suites. Atovmian’s additions here include a jaunty scherzo in The Young Guards suite composed from a fragmentary cue, and an orchestration of Shostakovich’s op. 34/14 Prelude in E?, which provides a touching Requiem, as annotator David Nice puts it, for the heroine of Zoya . With the exception of Atovmian’s banal “Song of the Young Guardsman,” inexplicably included instead of Shostakovich’s own patriotic song arrangements, the interpolations fit nicely, and the inclusion of the Prelude is a particularly apt amplification of the mood of the score.


The recorded sound is, unfortunately, reminiscent of earlier Soviet-period recordings; a bit brash and edgy in the climaxes. Violin tone is a little scratchy as well, whether from miking or substandard instruments, but in general orchestral execution is much better than competent, though more heartfelt than polished. Walter Mnatsakonov’s conducting is sensitive or rousing, as required, and the Minsk Chamber Choir is first-rate in its brief appearance. This disc joins recent Naxos and Chandos film-score releases as an important addition to the Shostakovich discography. No one who admires this composer will want to miss this, or any of the Delos series. Next up: seven suites from the early (1930–31) Alone.


FANFARE: Ronald E. Grames

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First Hand Records presents violinist Sasha Rozhdestvensky in the world premiere commercial recording of Shostakovich's unfinished Violin Sonata. This recording includes an extra 28 bars of a development section found in Shostakovich's original manuscript that does not appear in the published score, and is completed by an eleven-bar coda written by conductor Gennady Rozhdestvensky. The work is coupled with the Violin Sonata Op. 43. The program also contains world premiere commercial recordings of Shostakovich's Andantino from the String Quartet No.4, his piano duet arrangement of Stravinsky's Symphony of Psalms and his chamber transcription of Gaetano Braga's La Serenata.

These fabled works dating from 1960–1975 represent some of Shostakovich’s most bitterly frank, occasionally transcendental essays for the string quartet. At times poignant yet occasionally ribald, these performances have been called utterly compelling. Unique in this stunning survey is a fine performance of his “Unfinished” quartet, the first recording of what was originally to have been Shostakovich’s 9th Quartet, discovered and published in 2003. Additionally, listeners will find two more of Zakarias Grafilo’s extraordinary transcriptions of the 1950/51 Preludes and Fugues for Piano Op. 87.

Alexander String Quartet:
Zakarias Grafilo, Frederick Lifsitz: violins
Paul Yarbrough: viola
Sandy Wilson: cello

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Duo TschoppBovino, on their debut GENUIN CD, show us their versatility as Mirjan Tschopp successfully performs onboth violin and viola. Dmitri Shostakovich occupies a unique place in 20th century music. The duo has chosen his Sonata for Violin and Piano, Op. 134 and Sonata for Viola and Piano Op. 147. These two pieces were composed toward the end of the composer’s life, during his most mature compositional period.