Babi Yar: Shostakovich at the Brangwyn Hall

 
     I have been attempting to compose this post for just over three weeks now.  It has been a tide-like process of repeated writing and deletion, but then, as it is written at the start of Frank Herbert's 'Dune', 'A beginning is the time for taking the most delicate care....'

     So....on the 10th of last month we went to a concert in the Brangwyn Hall given by the BBCNOW under Ryan Bancroft.  There were two items, perhaps two disparate items, on the programme that night: Beethoven's Piano Concert no1 and Shostakovich Symphony no13 'Babi Yar'.  A work of 'terrible beauty'.  And now in fairness I must place my cards on the table - I am great fan of Shostakovich.  He is a composer to whom I return time and time again, and it was the 'Babi Yar' that brought me to the concert, and really I could talk about it to the exclusion of all else, but that would be highly impolite, and unfair of me.  So first to the Beethoven....

     The American Jonathan Biss was the soloist and we were very lucky to have such a talent to play for us.  Apart from the final, life-affirming, movement this concerto was unknown to me though I do know Beethoven's two final concertos well through the Brendel/Levine/Chicago Symphony recording. At times I felt a bit lost in the first movement. But before Ryan Bancroft sends the hired goons round for a little 'chat' that is neither comment or criticism of the playing; classical music can often be be baffling at the first encounter.  I have at times felt lost in Elgar, Mahler and Shostakovich.  It is one of things that sets Classical Music apart from Popular.  It often requires effort. 

     And so to the Shostakovich. For those don't know this symphony was premiered in 1962, during the time of the so-called 'Khrushchev Thaw', a decade or so of easing in the artistic life of the Soviet Union.   It is written for orchestra (large), soloist, and male chorus of some 30+ singers, and consists of five movements, each one a setting of a poem by Yevgeny Yevtushenko.  The soloist, James Platt, certainly looked the part with his bushy black beard like a Russian peasant or priest.  Indeed, at times I was reminded of Russian orthodox chant; and, perhaps, it is the most Russian of all Shostakovich's 15 symphonies. It is also not for the faint-hearted, for both the musical language of the symphony and the lyrics are challenging. The first movement, for example, 'Babi Yar', starkly confronts Antisemitism in all its historical manifestations.  The later movements, particularly 3 & 4, convey the grinding life of the Russian people under the Soviet regime.  Shostakovich was the only composer, I think, capable of looking the enormities of the 20th century in the face.

     This was an all piss and vinegar performance, snarling with anger and bitterness. Perhaps the most overwhelming performance I have yet experienced in the concert hall, provoking a physical reaction in me.  (Shostakovich is the only composer I know with that effect.)  Quite literally breath-taking.  But it was made all the more moving considering the current increase in antisemitism in the UK.  Only that morning it had been reported in the press that the Jewish chaplain at Leeds University, and his family, had been forced into hiding after threats of rape and death.

     I remember watching Leonard Bernstein's documentary on twentieth century music (it was on BBC2) where he placed Shostakovich (along with Britten) in the second league; on the strength of this performance alone I would say Bernstein was mistaken.