SIBELIUS: Finlandia / Karelia Suite / Lemminkainen Suite

Although Shostakovich's chamber music is dominated by the fifteen string quartets, he also left his mark on the piano trio, the piano quintet and the accompanied sonatas.

Dmitry Shostakovich’s succinctly composed and highly distinctive 24 Preludes have proved their popularity in numerous arrangements, but when the composer heard these transcriptions by Smitry Tsyganov he declared that ‘I forgot they were originally written for piano, so naturally did they sound.’ The set was completed in 2000 by the Russian-born composer and pianist Lera Auerbach. These often whimsical and ironic Preludes contrast greatly with the chilling and profound Violin Sonata, a late work that concludes with Shostakovich’s last ever use of passacaglia form.

This recording is billed as the first totally, absolutely complete release of The Golden Age, Shostakovich's best ballet, in that you get all of the repeats, some of which are omitted in the only competing, more or less complete version on Chandos (with Rozhdestvensky). Having all of the repeats isn't necessarily a good thing, but with Serebrier and his Scottish players we are in good hands. Rozhdestvensky's recording also is very good, but his Swedish orchestra isn't any better than the Royal Scottish National--and it also suffers from some minor moments of scruffy rhythm in the strings. More to the point, the Russian conductor's reading isn't entirely free of the heaviness that often characterizes his conducting.


You can hear this quite clearly in comparing the two interpretations of the splendid Can-can in Act 3, one of the largest and most powerful extended numbers in the ballet. Serebrier actually is the slower of the two, by a few unimportant seconds, but his rhythms cut through more crisply, and the orchestra's brighter-toned brass and more vivid percussion make the music sparkle as it should--and terrify when it must (as at the end of this very piece). Otherwise there's little to choose between the two, but much else to enjoy here, including that splendidly romantic Dance of the Diva (a big Adagio) as well as all of the other numbers familiar from the popular suite extracted by the composer at the time of the original production. Terrific sound and a very reasonable price make this the clear version of choice.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

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

This may not be the most harrowing version of the Eighth, but of its type it's unquestionably a great performance. Often this symphony consists of hair-raising climaxes interspersed between acres of nothingness. Not here. This symphony also is one of Shostakovich's most formally masterly and imaginative, and this performance reminds us in the most compelling way. Petrenko's flowing tempos in the first movement and passacaglia keep the music moving, not lurching, forward at all times. The 25 minutes of the first movement seem to pass by in half that time. Its opening threnody in particular has even more expressive power than usual for being phrased in long melodic arcs that never turn static.

After an aptly gawky scherzo, the toccata is as brilliant and menacing as any (with a dashingly militant central section), but it's the finale that really sets the seal on this performance. The Eighth always is a tough piece to project convincingly, but Petrenko is at his absolute best here, pacing the music perfectly and timing the climax in such a way that (for once) it doesn't sound like a less impressive recapitulation of the first movement--and this isn't because its previous occurrence is underplayed in any way. Excellent playing from all departments of the orchestra plus vividly natural engineering complete what is easily the best installment of this ongoing cycle to date.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Great performances of this massive symphony aren’t exactly thick on the field, but my goodness, this is one of them. Vasily Petrenko and the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic play with 100 percent commitment in every single bar. The first movement opens broadly, the intensity already palpable. Taking full advantage of excellent sound and a wide dynamic range (crank up the volume for this one), the central march and battle will have you sweating in your seat. The unrelentingly sustained passion that Petrenko brings to this long section triumphantly vindicates Shostakovich’s controversial vision, and at the same time makes short work of a 28-minute overall timing.

It may sound odd, but what stands out most in the scherzo (for me anyway) is the strikingly sharp pizzicato violins accompanying the shrill clarinet in the movement’s central outburst (sound sample below). Obviously this isn’t the most important idea, but the fact that Petrenko and his strings take such care to characterize even simple accompaniments helps us to understand just why this performance is so compelling. Like the first movement, the Adagio has a strikingly intense central episode, one whose contrasting power helps to sustain interest in the slow, grave outer sections. Then we come to the finale, with a thrilling, wild allegro, and a broad, take-no-prisoners coda that’s simply immense. Petrenko’s Shostakovich cycle already is one of the best out there, but this release really puts the seal on his achievement. This is absolutely essential, and as I said, it’s exceptionally well recorded to boot.

– David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

There are a lot of performances of this remarkable symphony available now, but this one stands out as having a truly distinctive and persuasive point of view. The Royal Liverpool Philharmonic, however well it plays, isn’t an orchestral powerhouse like the Chicago Symphony (Previn) or Kondrashin’s Moscow Philharmonic, but Vasily Petrenko more than compensates for any lack of sheer heft with an extra jolt of energy and a razor-sharp rhythmic attack. Listen to the strings dig into the music right after the first movement’s “climax of fugal insanity”. If the preceding din isn’t exactly paint-peeling, it’s still very exciting, and as you can hear, Petrenko sustains the tension very well, providing an unusual degree of continuity to a movement that easily tends to break up into a sequence of disconnected episodes.

The scherzo also is unusually characterful—slower than the norm, which only makes it more gaunt and spooky. The “tick-tock” percussion at the end is especially clear, and disturbingly mechanical. As for the gripping finale, not only is the wacky ballet suite interlude remarkably fun, but Petrenko really unleashes the hounds in the form of some magnificently braying brass in the final chorale. This is one of those performances that justifies purchasing yet another recording of what is becoming a relatively well-known work. It confirms the piece as a true classic, in the sense that a variety of approaches reveals an endless series of valid interpretive possibilities. The performance is also extremely well recorded, naturally balanced, and vividly present. Wonderful.

– David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

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

The Twelfth is not Shostakovich's best symphony, but it's not as bad as its detractors would have us believe. The first two movements in particular are effectively structured and, respectively, cinematically exciting and quite atmospheric. The finale, especially its coda, is so telling an example of Socialist Realist triumph that it can only be accepted as a parody; and played without apology, as here, it works very well. Indeed, Vasily Petrenko leads a first movement that beats just about everyone in terms of sheer excitement, and the same holds true of the transitional third movement, "Aurora". As for that problematic finale, it has an appealing lightness (before the coda) that avoids any impression of facile note-spinning. If you don't like this symphony, give this performance a shot. It may change your mind.

The Sixth is far less troublesome, but Petrenko's vision is no less probing. At nearly 20 minutes the first movement is very slow, but wholly gripping. Petrenko takes the scherzo dazzlingly fast, but paces the finale moderately to give it the necessary weight (without sacrificing the music's irony and wit). Through it all the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic plays splendidly, and is excellently recorded. This Shostakovich series is shaping up as one of the best, make no mistake.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Something special would have to make me recommend a CD containing two of Shostakovich’s most popular symphonies, especially the ubiquitous Fifth. Before doing some comparisons with a few recordings of the past, I can state outright that these performances, as part of Petrenko’s continuing cycle, are more than competitive with their illustrious predecessors. Petrenko indeed has the measure of both works and he has the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic sounding a world-class ensemble. Furthermore, the recorded sound is full and vibrant, leaving little to be desired.

My introduction to the Shostakovich Fifth was sometime in 1959 or 1960 when I heard the Leonard Bernstein recording, fresh from the orchestra’s successful Moscow performances. I was blown away by that recording. What a shock, then, to hear it a number of years later as performed by the USSR State Symphony under the composer’s son. It sounded like a different work, especially the finale which I thought ridiculously slow and pompous. The orchestra sounded rough - especially next to the sleek New York Philharmonic - and the recording was frankly awful in the pressing I heard. Of course, this was before the so-called Shostakovich memoirs as related by Solomon Volkov came out. Nowadays Bernstein sounds ludicrously fast, if still brilliant. Living in the Washington, DC area I had the opportunity to get to appreciate Mstislav Rostropovich’s interpretations with the National Symphony Orchestra. Petrenko’s account of the finale reminds me of Rostropovich’s with the coda hammered out as slowly as possible and a forced “triumph” that’s hard to endure. It is extremely powerful and very convincing on its own terms. I compared this new version with three others, not having one of Rostropovich’s to hand: Bernstein’s (1959), Haitink’s, with the Concertgebouw Orchestra, Ashkenazy’s, with the Royal Philharmonic, and Maxim Shostakovich’s, with the London Symphony.

There is no consensus on tempos for the individual movements, except maybe the second movement, Scherzo. Nor should there necessarily be. This is what makes having different interpretations of the standard repertoire valuable. Tempos do not tell the whole story by far, but comparing Bernstein’s and Petrenko’s timings for the finale is very telling! Another characteristic that distinguishes this new account is the huge dynamic range, from the softest pianissimos to the loudest fortissimos I have ever heard in this symphony. Part of this may be due to the recording, but I think most of the credit must go to the conductor and orchestra. Next to Petrenko, Haitink seems rather urbane but still convincing and beautifully played. Ashkenazy, whose recording was my preferred CD version until now, presents more of a middle-of-the-road view, blessed by vivid sonics on his Decca recording. However, I now find the added horn and trumpet swoops, à la Mahler, in the second movement, irritating on repetition. Maxim Shostakovich’s account is rather odd, I think. After his unrefined, but idiomatic USSR Symphony version, he smoothed out all the edges when he recorded it with the London Symphony. It is no doubt wonderfully played, with especially gorgeous horns in the Scherzo, but leaves little impact. The recording is also more distant than the others and may contribute to this impression. I have not heard his more recent account with Prague Symphony, but others have found it an improvement over the London version. Right now, having heard the Petrenko quite a few times, I would place it at or near the top of the heap. It will be the one I will listen to now whenever I’m in the mood for this particular work, which is not all that often.

The Ninth Symphony, though, is one of my favorite Shostakovich symphonies. Here my basis for comparison, and my favored CD version, is Neeme Järvi’s with the Scottish National Orchestra on Chandos. Järvi brings out the humor in the score as well as I have ever heard it. Drawbacks are the less than perfect tuning of the trombones in the fourth movement and the reverberant recording which has a longer decay than is optimal for this symphony. Right from the beginning, I was impressed with the sound on the new Petrenko recording of this symphony. It is very clear, yet not at all clinical and with plenty of warmth where required. Also the orchestra performs here at least as well as it does in the Fifth. I should especially mention the outstanding clarinetist in the second movement, and equally outstanding trombones (with tuba) and bassoon in the fourth. No tuning problems there. Where I still have a preference for the Järvi is in the gruff humor he finds in the symphony. Petrenko’s is a more subtle, classical account without the humor being as obvious. His tempos are also more extreme. For example, his second movement Moderato takes 8:47 whereas Järvi gets through it in 6:31. It is marked moderato, after all. Still, Petrenko does not sound slow and is convincing. His third movement Presto, on the other hand, is faster than any version I have heard - truly presto. It is exhilarating and the orchestra manages to keep up miraculously well. Järvi’s is only 12 seconds longer, but seems noticeably slower. Petrenko is as light as a feather here and the music just breezes by. So again, Petrenko has given us a good alternative to other favorite versions.

To sum up: at the level of musicianship present in this new recording, we definitely need another Shostakovich Fifth and Ninth Symphony pairing, particularly at Naxos’ bargain price. I must also mention the excellent notes by Richard Whitehouse that not only discuss the works at hand, but also trace the composer’s symphonic development.

-- Leslie Wright, MusicWeb International

Vasily Petrenko’s Shostakovich cycle marches on. This is volume seven. I presume there are four more to follow as and when Petrenko sets down the Fourth Symphony – to which I’m particularly looking forward – and numbers 7, 13 and 14.
 
This latest instalment pairs symphonies from the opposite chronological ends of the composer’s symphonic output. Number 2 was written to mark the tenth anniversary of the 1917 Revolution. Perhaps ominously – in terms of potential for artistic merit – it was commissioned by the Propaganda Division of the State Music Publishers’ Section. Interestingly, Richard Whitehouse relates in his notes that, initially, the work was not designated as a symphony; Shostakovich only took that step, it seems, a couple of years later. The work is in one continuous movement and in the last six minutes or so an SATB chorus is introduced. Their task is to deliver the four-stanza poem by one Alexander Bezimensky (1898-1973). Richard Whitehouse describes him as an “’official’ proletarian poet” but if this is a fair example of his work the term “party hack” might be more appropriate. Clearly, Shostakovich had no say in the choice of text and, apparently, he didn’t think much of it.
 
Richard Whitehouse observes that the symphony was composed during the most overtly modernist phase of his career. One might suggest that the term “brutalist” might also fairly apply to this score. Naxos helpfully split the piece into three separate tracks and these are reflected in the liner-notes. Shostakovich can be a forbidding composer at times but in this score we find him at his most experimental and intractable. For a start there are virtually no melodic themes in it – the trumpet tune that appears a couple of minutes into the score is more or less the only melody, as Whitehouse points out. Given the absence of themes it’s perhaps unsurprising that I struggle to discern any sort of development in the conventional sense. For example, I find it hard to see what relation the first five or six minutes of the score (track 1) bear to the music that follows, except as an unrelated introduction, perhaps. The music that opens the second section (track 2) is reminiscent of parts of the First Symphony. As this section unfolds the music becomes ever more strident. After a solo violin passage the texture becomes increasingly complex but it’s hard to see what all the activity signifies. Hereabouts the playing of the RLPO is tremendously vigorous and earlier, when the music was stirring to life from very subdued beginnings, there was no little finesse to the playing. So far as I can tell the performance is also very precise.
 
It would be kind to describe the words of the concluding choral section as banal; the poem is unmitigated Revolutionary tosh! Shostakovich “rewards” the poet with choral writing of no great distinction; these final minutes are brash and boldly coloured but, to be honest, one feels it’s a case of sound and fury signifying nothing. It’s richly ironic that when Shostakovich produced the sort of music that the authorities expected he wrote such stuff as this but when he composed music that was not in keeping with official expectations – in the Sixth or Eighth Symphonies, for instance – he produced his finest work. Vasily Petrenko and his orchestra – and choir – do their best for the score and give a colourful and committed account of it but, really, this is base metal. I find it perplexing, to say the least, to trace Shostakovich’s development as a symphonist from the precocious First Symphony through to the magnificent, complex Fourth. Indeed, the Second and Third Symphonies don’t really seem to offer much in the way of a bridge between those two tremendous scores.
 
I find the Fifteenth Symphony just as perplexing but in a very different way. Just what was Shostakovich saying this late score? What was going on behind that impassive face and those slightly owlish thick spectacles? A troubled spirit, it would seem, but what was troubling him?
 
One of the great enigmas of this score lies in the use made of quotations. Shostakovich made use of self-quotation in his music but to the best of my knowledge it was rare for him to quote other composers. Yet here, in what turned out to be his last symphony, we find him quoting from two composers – and from two radically different composers at that – as well as from himself.
 
The first movement opens deceptively with perky material on flute and then bassoon. The opening pages are reminiscent of the Ninth Symphony it seems to me. Then, at 1:57 the trumpet plays a familiar motif from Rossini’s William Tell overture. The Rossini motif has been foreshadowed in the moments leading up to its first appearance – the first of several in the movement – but what is the meaning? I confess I’m far from sure except to note that the motif is of a piece with Shostakovich’s characteristic sardonic streak and that, though the fragment of tune stands out every time we hear it, it is well integrated into the composer’s own material. The music becomes increasingly urgent, alarmed and, indeed, strident in tone and the reappearances of the Rossini quote seem to act as a brake on proceedings and to bring the music back to a less stressful, more insouciant level. Throughout this movement, whatever the mood of the music, the playing of the RLPO is crisp and characterful.
 
The second movement takes us to an altogether deeper level – though in saying that I don’t wish to imply that the first movement is superficial; it’s not. The Adagio opens with a brass chorale, which recurs at intervals as the movement unfurls. I think it’s hugely significant that this chorale is taken from the opening movement, The Palace Square, of the Eleventh Symphony, a work that I still think has yet to receive its full recognition within the composer’s output. It will be remembered that the Eleventh commemorates the failed Russian Revolution of 1905. The chorale is followed by extended glacial passages in which cello and viola solos are prominent. Here we are in the world of the string quartets. This is spare, searching music that has the character of a threnody. Petrenko and his players are excellent in maintaining the tension in these sparsely scored paragraphs, a virtue I < admired in their traversal of the first movement of the Sixth Symphony. Eventually (at 6:50) we hear an idea on the flutes but it’s not until this is taken up at some length by a solo trombone that it becomes clear that this is a funeral march. Eventually (at 11:01) the march erupts almost out of nothing into a huge climax. When this is spent the chorale returns, firstly on hushed strings and then on the brass. Now, I think, having experienced the funeral march we perhaps understand the significance of the quotation form the Eleventh. Is it that Shostakovich had unfinished business with the failed revolutionaries of 1905? Is he saying in this movement that those revolutionaries were betrayed by the Stalinist excesses in the years that followed the successful revolution of 1917?
 
The third movement, which follows attacca, is extremely brief. Richard Whitehouse rightly draws attention to the “barbed humour”. This is real nose-thumbing, sneering music and it’s adroitly done by Petrenko’s orchestra which offers some suitably pungent playing. Unless my ears deceive me the horns make a reference to the old DSCH motif one last time in a Shostakovich symphony.
 
The finale brings us the quotations from a second composer: Wagner. Right at the start the low brass intone the ‘fate’ motif from Die Walküre, followed by the soft timpani tattoo from Siegfried’s Funeral Music in Götterdämmerung. A few moments later (at 1:07) there’s surely another Wagner reference. The violins have an extended melody and as a kind of upbeat to it they play the same three notes with which Tristan begins. It’s possible that this is a coincidence but I don’t think so. The melody itself is described by Richard Whitehouse as “graceful”. I know what he means but I’m not sure that description is the full story: it sounds to me to be a spectral kind of grace; as so often with Shostakovich ambiguity is everywhere. This long, winding violin theme serves as the impetus for much of the content of the succeeding paragraphs. After another appearance of the ‘fate’ motif (5:28) what is at first a ghostly passacaglia begins. The music grows in temperature and intensity until a substantial climax is reached (10:08). This is another – and the last – of Shostakovich’s trademark towering symphonic climaxes and in it I hear definite echoes – grim ones – of the Leningrad Symphony. After the climax has subsided the music becomes wan and lean again; here the playing of the RLPO is once again most effective. The ending is enigmatic; the soft, tintinnabulating percussion over soft string chords recalls the conclusion of the Fourth Symphony, albeit the passage is longer this time. With a soft bell chime Shostakovich writes finis to his canon of symphonies.
 
The Fifteenth is a difficult symphony, not because its language is difficult in the way that the language of the Second is gratuitously difficult. It’s difficult because it’s so hard to grasp what are the composer’s intentions. I bought Maxim Shostakovich’s 1972 première recording when it came out – I still have the LP – and yet, even after all these years I’m not confident that I fully comprehend this elusive piece. I am sure, however, that it’s a fine and expressive composition and it’s the work of a mature and highly experienced symphonist whereas the Second is the work of a young, iconoclastic innovator. I don’t believe that earlier piece is genuinely symphonic in the sense of including any conventional development of ideas.
 
I doubt I shall listen often to the Second, though I’m sure that Vasily Petrenko and his choir and orchestra serve it well. I’m certain, however, that I shall return to this performance of the Fifteenth which strikes me as being excellent both in terms of the interpretation and the execution. The Naxos sound is very good: it reports the massive climaxes very well but conveys equally successfully the many quiet passages, both at the start of the Second and during the Fifteenth. As usual, Richard Whitehouse’s notes are very good at outlining the background to the works and at describing each score. However, it’s slightly disappointing that he doesn’t attempt any real discussion of the quotations in the Fifteenth beyond saying that they’re present.
 
This is another fine instalment in this important Shostakovich symphony cycle and I hope we won’t have to wait too long for the next release.
 
-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International

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One of the nice things about Vasily Petrenko’s ongoing Shostakovich cycle, now well past its halfway point, is that it is making me reevaluate symphonies I did not think so highly of previously. The conductor’s recent recording of the Third Symphony (with the First, on Naxos 8.572396) inspired me to comment, “Petrenko’s reading is so full of good humor—and perhaps a little sarcasm—that I found myself enjoying this symphony more than usual.” Well, the Second is, for the most part, just as good, aided and abetted by some really fun playing from the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra, and exciting sound from Naxos’s engineering team. The opening pages, an extended bass drum roll, quietly played, and soon overlaid by what Shostakovich called “ultrapolyphony” (27 simultaneously played voices) create a strikingly Ivesian effect. Now, Ives was ahead of his time, and so was the young Shostakovich, who anticipated several of the 20th century’s later musical developments in this symphony. Petrenko pulls it off with impudence, and the factory whistle that introduces the chorus has never been more visceral in its impact. (Shostakovich advised that, in the absence of a factory whistle, a chord for horns and trombones could be used instead. I am not sure what is being used here—it sounds like a jet engine, actually—but it is most impressive.) The chorus is almost as idiomatic as it was in the Third Symphony, and if the singers sound a little hoarse, I can forgive them. (Shostakovich shows neither the orchestra nor the chorus much mercy in this symphony.) Perhaps that’s what singing about Lenin and communes does to one.
Few people doubt the importance of the 15th Symphony. In fact, in bolstering its stature, and its place as the terminal symphony in Shostakovich’s canon, conductors have a tendency to make it seem more funereal than perhaps is necessary. Petrenko’s reading takes 48: 35, which really is quite slow, but this is one of those times when the subjective tempos seem faster. I think this is because Petrenko plays up the chamber music-like textures that dominate this work; slow is not the same as heavy, after all. Also, he is almost maliciously funny in the first movement, and in the third. Yes, the humor is of the black variety, but Petrenko applies it delicately, and as a consequence, there is more subtlety and nuance here than one expects even in this symphony. There are many examples of particularly fine solo playing from several members of the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic, too. Surely, this is one of the best versions of the 15th Symphony currently available—right up there with one of Kondrashin’s recordings, or (for something much richer) Ormandy’s. Petrenko’s Second easily eclipses Morton Gould’s and Bernard Haitink’s (to name two of the most famous alternatives). For the Shostakovich fan, there’s every reason to get this newest release from Petrenko, and no good reason not to. Have at it.
FANFARE: Raymond Tuttle

SHOSTAKOVICH: String Quartets Nos. 10, 11 and 13

SHOSTAKOVICH: String Quartets Nos. 14 and 15

Shostakovich completed his Third Quartet at the dacha he rented in the village of Komarovo outside Leningrad in early August 1946. It was dedicated to the members of the Beethoven Quartet, who gave the first performance in Moscow on 16th December of the same year. It was withdrawn shortly afterwards, but remained in private circulation during the difficult years that followed. The first movement, in tripartite sonata form, offers a characteristic first subject, introduced by the first violin, and leading to a pianissimo second subject. The material is developed in a double fugue, before the final recapitulation and the re-appearance of the first subject in the coda. The E minor second movement is based on three themes. The first of these is presented by the first violin against an ostinato viola pattern and the second by the viola, with cello ostinato. The third theme is played staccato and pianissimo, the first returning to frame the contrasting episodes. A similar rondo form is used in the third movement, in the key of G sharp minor. Here two of the themes are based on an irregular rhythmic pattern, while the third is a curious march, the viola accompanied by plucked strings, the violins in syncopation. The C sharp minor fourth movement is at the tragic heart of the quartet, the mood established in the strong opening notes, answered in bitter sadness by the first violin. The heart-felt restatement of the theme by the viola, accompanied by the solemn notes of the cello, leads immediately to the last movement, with the first theme stated by the cello, pianissimo and then handed to the first violin. The same instrument introduces the second theme, then taken up by the viola, leading to the return of the first subject in this sonata-rondo movement. A mock-jovial third theme is introduced by the cello. The first theme returns and is elaborated, leading, in a dramatic climax, to the return of the ominous theme of the fourth movement, played by the viola and cello in canon. Other thematic material of the movement is heard again, in full or fragmentary form, before the work comes to an end. The Fifth Quartet of Shostakovich was first performed in December 1953. It had been completed the year before, but the death of Stalin now provided an opportunity for the performance of works that Shostakovich had held back. Once again the quartet, a work of great intensity, is dedicated to the Beethoven Quartet, entrusted, as always, with it's first performance. The opening Allegro non troppo, in sonata form, has a first theme that grows in power, marked always by a brief figure in the viola. There is a more lyrical second subject, introduced by the second violin, and a third, closing theme. The exposition is repeated before the central development. This reaches a dynamic climax with the introduction of a new theme, leading before long to the recapitulation, when the viola figure is heard once more. A sustained high F in the first violin links the movement with the following B minor Andante, with it's characteristically Russian theme shared by viola and first violin. There follows a B major theme of particular and unusual tenderness, in largely consonant harmonies. Both themes return, with a closing theme, and a sustained first violin high F sharp, doubled by the viola, with a cello D, links the second with the third movement. Here a Moderato introduction ushers in a sonata-rondo form Allegretto, in which the viola states the first theme. There is a quietly expressive second theme, but tension mounts in the development section, which brings back themes from the earlier movements. Harmonic tension is relaxed when the first violin, followed by the viola, introduces a passage of recitative. The earlier themes of the movement return, as the music dies away.