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BBC Proms - 17 July - 12 September 2009 - The World's Greatest Classical Music Festival

What's On / Programme Notes

Dmitry Shostakovich (1906–75)
Symphony No. 9 in E flat major, Op. 70 (1945)
1 Allegro
2 Moderato
3 Presto
4 Largo
5 Allegretto

Shostakovich composed his Ninth Symphony during the final weeks of the Second World War. Reports that he was working on it soon appeared in the papers, along with a fair amount of eager speculation. A bulletin from the Soviet news agency TASS announced that the new symphony would be ‘devoted to the Celebration of our Great Victory’. A remark Shostakovich had made the previous year was widely quoted:

I am thinking of my next symphony, the Ninth. I would like to employ not only a full orchestra but a choir and soloists, if I can find a suitable text; in any case I don’t want to be accused of drawing presumptuous analogies.

Maybe not, but that last comment effectively invited comparison with another Ninth Symphony with choir and soloists: Beethoven’s ‘Choral’. The effect was predictable: Soviet Russia prepared itself for a masterpiece of national self-celebration: a musical ‘Ode to Joy’ to put beside Beethoven’s, with – naturally – an acknowledgement of the inspired role played in the Great Victory by the ‘Leader and Teacher’ himself, Joseph Stalin.
In the event, the looked-for ‘Soviet Ninth’ turned out to be a bombshell – but of a completely unexpected kind. Not only was it surprisingly short (well under half an hour) and scored for a modest orchestra; its whole character seemed staggeringly misjudged. This was the reaction of the composer Marian Koval: ‘The listeners parted, feeling very uncomfortable, as if embarrassed by the musical mischief Shostakovich had committed and displayed – committed, alas, not by a youth but by a 40-year-old man, and at a time like that!’ The audience, Koval wrote, was presented with ‘old man Haydn and a regular American sergeant unsuccessfully made up to look like Charlie Chaplin, while every possible grimace and whimsical gesture galloped through the symphony’s first movement’. Koval’s remarks were republished in 1948, the year Shostakovich was denounced at the First Congress of the Union of Composers and forced to make a humiliating public statement of repentance. Stalin, it seems, had not forgotten that act of ‘musical mischief’.
Poisonous though Koval’s review was – and no doubt partly politically motivated – in one point he was right. Something of the spirit of the great 18th-century symphonist Haydn can be felt in Shostakovich’s Ninth Symphony, and especially in the first movement. The opening Allegro is lean, athletic, quick-witted music with some wonderful deflating humour. Take the second theme, a cheekily whistling piccolo tune introduced by martial percussion and a ludicrously pompous two-note ‘fanfare’ on trombone: Shostakovich thumbing his nose at Soviet pomp? In the recapitulation, the pompous trombone keeps trying to assert itself, but each time it is thwarted by the rest of the orchestra. Near the end of the movement the ‘mischief’ threatens to turn ugly, but Shostakovich suddenly drops the curtain with two brusque full-orchestral chords – a kind of neo-Classical ‘that’s all, folks!’
The second-movement Moderato is dark-hued, but prevailingly lyrical and mostly restrained – Shostakovich’s response, perhaps, to some of Haydn’s gently melancholic minor-key slow movements.
Mocking humour then breaks out again in the scherzo-like Presto, with shades of the Russian circus. But this runs out of steam and subsides into the Largo. At this point the comic mask drops; in fact, if this movement turned up in one of the epic wartime symphonies that preceded the Ninth, it wouldn’t sound out of place. Grim, rhythmically jagged bass brass figures twice introduce long, plaintive, recitative-like solos for high bassoon.
But then comes a typical Shostakovich reversal: just when the subversive humour of the first and third movements seems forgotten, the tempo changes to Allegretto, and the bassoon drops to its lowest register for a sly, chuckling, folk-like theme. The rest of the orchestra catches the mood, but now the comedy has an unmistakably nervous edge. At the end the tempo quickens and the symphony dances wildly to its conclusion: still comic, but an ‘Ode to Joy’ it clearly isn’t.

Programme note © Stephen Johnson
Stephen Johnson has written regularly for ‘The Independent’, ‘The Guardian’ and ‘BBC Music Magazine’, and is the author of books on Bruckner, Mahler and Wagner. He is a regular presenter of BBC Radio 3’s ‘Discovering Music’.

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