A rare visit to the North East by one of London’s top orchestras, the Royal Philharmonic (RPO), combined with an equally rare, perhaps unprecedented, regional performance of the turbulent and troubling tenth symphony of the Russian composer Dmitri Shostakovich brought a sell-out audience to Gateshead’s Glasshouse international concert hall. The crowd was not disappointed.
Shostakovich’s background
Shostakovich was not just a Russian; he was a citizen of the Soviet Union who had been forced to follow his career as arguably his country’s most high profile composer remaining in his homeland at a time when to fall out of favour with the dictator Josef Stalin – a man who took a surprising interest in music – could be fatal, not only professionally but personally.
He had already risked official displeasure once with his fifth symphony, the exuberant final movement of which is often interpreted as a snub of the nose for nation’s music-loving mass-murderer. The tenth was composed soon after Stalin’s death in 1953 – a death accompanied according to the dictator’s wishes by a recording of J.S.Bach’s Goldberg Variations, as those who have seen the comic film The Death of Stalin will know. But that did not make the task much less daunting.
The symphony reflects what must have been the mood of the times for Russians, and particularly their ruling elite – a mix of relief, fear and above all uncertainty. What would follow the man who had ruled with a blood-stained iron fist for three decades? The work opens darkly, swings wildly in mood, and ends in a frantic outburst. Shostakovich hinted that the second movement is a portrait of Stalin himself, the programme notes remind us.
The ambiguity surrounding Stalin remains in Russia to this day – cruel despot or saviour of the nation from the Nazi invaders. No such mixed feelings are likely to follow the death of Putin when it arrives: uncertainty over what comes next, yes; but indifference at best at home and unalloyed relief abroad that he has gone.
Kikimora: who’s she?
Supporting the RPO’s performance of the Shostakovich was the ever-popular Piano Concerto No. 1 by Tchaikovsky, brilliantly played by the multi-award-winning pianist Tom Borrow. The composer’s friends apparently did not think much of it when he first played it for them in 1874, but it has gone on to be a staple of the repertoire.
Kikimora, to answer my own question, is a character from a Russian fairy tale who grew up in the mountains with a sorcerer, who was rocked from dawn to dusk in a crystal cradle and regaled with fantastic tales by the magician’s cat. At least, that’s one version of the story. There are others in Slavic mythology, not all so benevolent.
If Kikimora is not generally well known to western audiences, neither is the composer of the music about her. It’s a charming little piece by Anatoly Liadov (1855-1914) premiered in St Petersburg in 1909.
Whether presenting the light-hearted little fairy tale of Kikimora, accompanying the brilliance of Tchaikovsky or filling the Glasshouse with the mighty symphonic resonances of Shostakovich, the RPO played with a precision, passion and clarity of tone that were wonderful to hear. There could be few better ways to spend a miserable Sunday afternoon in February.
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