John Storgårds and the BBC Philharmonic return to their Shostakovich with a double - the 12th and 15th Symphonies. Although not dissimilar in length at around 40 and 45 minutes respectively, making this very generous for a single disc release, they couldn’t be more different in character. The Symphony No. 12, Op. 112, ‘The Year 1917’ is, it’s fair to say, one of Shostakovich’s least popular, for various reasons. It certainly suffered from being seen on paper as overtly and simplistically celebratory of the Soviet regime, with a programme for its four movements including Revolutionary Petrograd, Razliv (Lenin’s country retreat), Aurora (the battleship that launched the salvo attack on the Winter Palace), and ending with ‘The Dawn of Humanity’, a celebration of the new world that the Revolution supposedly brought in. But was it about towing the party line, as he and his work was going through some kind of rehabilitation by the Communist regime, and he also finally agreed to join the party? Or, as ever with Shostakovich, is there a more subversive reading, with its quote from nationalist Sibelius’ Lemminkäinen in Tuonela in the midst of Razliv (Razliv is in Finland), and its meandering questioning both in this movement, but also in the midst of the supposedly defiant final movement? Storgårds takes a relatively straightforward approach here, neither over-emphasising the bombastic, triumphant elements, nor digging too deeply into the darker moments. As a result, this is a performance that leaves us to decide on its merit. The BBC Philharmonic’s playing is tight and precise, with some particularly deft work from the woodwind in the opening movement, especially the bassoons. Rattling drums at the first movement’s climax, and gunfire percussion in the Scherzo add bite, and the brass statement in the finale avoids being overblown, yet has clear strength. A fine performance of a symphony that is ultimately harder to admire than others. Turning to Symphony No. 15, Op. 141, from around ten years later, and his final symphony, we are in such different territory. There is greater invention here, with use of twelve tone motifs as well as constant quotes and references, not least Wagner, Glinka, and even direct use of the them from Rossini’s William Tell Overture. Given the fact that Shostakovich’s health was pretty poor by this stage, having had one heart attack, and soon to suffer a second shortly after completing this work, it is surprisingly upbeat, particularly the ‘toyshop’ opening movement, with its playful William Tell quotes, extensive use of percussion and the high wire circus act solo violin part (played here with caustic precision by BBC Philharmonic leader, Yuri Torchinsky). Storgårds handles this with a deft touch, particularly the squabbling polymetric woodwind passages towards the end of the movement. In the slow movement however there is real agony, with the cello solo plaintive and fragmentary, and then the mournful trombone solo to follow (sadly both soloists uncredited here). But following the mocking scherzo, the finale, despite a mournful brass opening with ominous timpani, soon skips along gently, with those Wagner and Glinka allusions, before the Passacaglia bassline is introduced by the cellos and double basses. Around this the scrabbling intensifies, swirling up to a climax, from which Shostakovich then remarkably descends into a gentle dance and a quiet end from celesta and percussion. As in the 12th, Storgårds steers us through without ever over-stating detail, but here the performance comes alive through the sheer invention and contrast of material that Shostakovich has on offer. It is this clarity of rendition of these two symphonies side by side that highlight the complexity of deciphering the ‘true’ voice of the composer.
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