Sunday, October 13, 2013

Shosty and the Onion

            Shostakovich’s eleventh symphony is a deeply layered work whose content is inarguably patriotic on some level, regardless of the composer’s inscrutable private political leanings. Subtitled “The Year 1905,” Symphony no. 11 is a cinematic retelling of the events of “Bloody Sunday” – the massacre of disgruntled workers in St. Petersburg on January 9, 1905 which became a key component of the Russian Revolution and the dawn of the Soviet Union. The work holds up confidently to the scrutiny of socialist realism in its cinematic enormity, its prominent use of folk tunes, and its telling of the Bloody Sunday story from the workers’ (i.e. the common man’s) tragic point of view.
            The most easily identifiable of these aspects is the symphony’s size. The chronological size at least is difficult to ignore – there are no breaks between movements and the work is about an hour long. The orchestra itself is not remarkably big, but Shostakovich does tend to use full “choirs,” such as all the brass or all the strings at once, rather than single instruments. The sense of size is exaggerated by the enormous range of dynamics, of tempo, and of melodic pitch. He also includes the idee fixe of open fifths in octaves throughout the piece, lending to the work a sense of expansive continuity that enhances its size.
            Shostakovich also complies with socialist realism by taking the comman man’s point of view and using revolutionary folk tunes as the basis for most of the melodic material. In the expository first movement, The Palace Square, the stage is quietly set for rebellion and massacre. Most of the movement is soft and drawn-out with long string pedals and slow, low melodies. Occasionally, the melody “Listen” appears in a higher register as a reminder of the atrocities of the czarist regime. The carnage itself happens in the second movement, The 9th of January, which is introduced by a fast ostinato in the low strings to the tune of Shostakovich’s own composition “Oh, Czar, our little father,” a melody that reappears throughout the rest of the symphony at varying speeds, pitches, and dynamics. At the end of the second movement, “Listen” reappears as the massacre ends and the scope of the tragedy comes into focus. The third movement, In Memoriam, depicts the horror of defeat and begins with the violas playing the folk tune “Worker’s Funeral March.” The final movement is The Tocsin, the alarm bell signaling revolution for the working man, set to loud, crashing, and often unison excerpts from folk tunes like “Rage, Tyrants” and “Vrashavianka.”

            Symphony 11 and many of Shostakovich’s other large works are comparable to the output of other regional composers in the 20th century, such as Ralph Vaughan Williams in the United Kingdom and Aaron Copland in the United States. These composers all tried to depict a (generally idealized) musical image of their homelands at a time when regional identity was often a highly political matter. Copland’s experience with McCarthyism in particular parallels some of what Shostakovich dealt with, as does the cancellation of John Adams’s opera The Death of Klinghoffer shortly after 9/11. Art is often so layered and subversive that it can be frightening to governments attempting to maintain security and safety. Politics can create opportunities for artists, but they can also create dangerous limitations.

3 comments:

  1. Sam, I notice your inductive observations when you state how Shostakovich uses both the various parts of the orchestra to create such a cinematic portrait of pre-Bolshevik revolution. I wonder what would happen when you give even more description of the revolutionary meaning of Shostakovich's work in the socialist world. Your observations of political musical examples is evident with John Adams and Copland, but what else could Shostakovich's music have meant in context?

    ReplyDelete
  2. Good, Sam. Along with Evan, it might be good to delve a little deeper into the context and subtext suggested by Shost.'s work. Though VW and Copland have similar interests as "nationalist" composers, their creativity was not shackled in nearly the same way as Shost's.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Hi Sam, I enjoyed your analogy! I thought your last line and paragraph was especially interesting to think about how politics can benefit and limit artists.

    ReplyDelete