Dmitri Shostakovich: Symphony No. 7 Leningrad
Symphony No. 7 Leningrad
Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975)
3 flutes, 2 oboes, English horn, 3 clarinets, bass clarinet, 2 bassoons, contrabassoon, 8 horns, 6 trumpets, 6 trombones, tuba, timpani, percussion, piano, 2 harps, strings
Composed 1941. First performance: 5 March 1942, Kubyshev (Samara), Russia. Bolshoi Theatre Orchestra cond. Samuil Samosud.
I. War: Allegretto
II. Memories: Moderato
III. Russia’s Vastness: Adagio
IV. Victory: Allegro non troppo
Classical music is filled with pieces that depict stories and historical events— fairy tales (The Sorcerer’s Apprentice), autobiography (Ein Heldenleben), even hallucinations (Symphonie fantastique) and battles (the 1812 Overture). But only one has been composed while under fire from the very artillery it portrayed.
By the time he began the Leningrad Symphony, Dmitri Shostakovich had developed a long and complicated relationship with Joseph Stalin and the Soviet government. Few artists demonstrated his ability to walk the tightrope between political critic and state hero, and fewer still made it safely through Stalin’s purges.
Because it wasn’t the wisest choice during this period for artists to openly discuss their themes and inspiration, it can be difficult to ascertain Shostakovich’s motivations in composing any specific work. But there is ample evidence that he conceived and planned this piece as a single-movement tone poem protesting Stalin’s tyranny, with chorus and soloists singing texts from Psalm 9 (“He does not forget the cry of the afflicted”). He discarded the text and vocalists to avoid provoking Stalin, but the work’s message remained risky. Then history intervened, transforming the subversive into the patriotic.
While Shostakovich began work, the Nazi army was quickly advancing across the Soviet Union. As he watched his country fall to fascist invaders, the piece became a protest against all forms of tyranny and authoritarianism.
Shostakovich finished the first draft of his work with the Nazis rapidly approaching his home in Leningrad. He realized, though, that what he had composed wasn’t an independent piece, but the first movement of a much larger work. As the Soviet government evacuated people from the city, he had to choose: stay and continue writing, or evacuate and possibly lose his inspiration. The decision was made for him when the Germans cut off the last rail line to Leningrad.
On the day that Shostakovich began work on the second movement, the Nazis began to shell the city. He composed this movement in short bursts between hurried trips to the bomb shelter. He appeared as a guest on Radio Leningrad, boosting civic morale by speaking about the new symphony. Only half completed, Shostakovich’s Seventh Symphony had already attained near mythic status in the war effort.
As he continued work, the Soviet government finally managed to evacuate Shostakovich and his family to the wartime capital of Samara, where the Leningrad Symphony was given a triumphant premiere. It was an instant popular and propaganda success, and the predecessors to the KGB and CIA agreed on a joint operation to smuggle the score out of the country on microfilm for its first American performance.
It was the Leningrad premiere, though, that became the stuff of legend. The Soviets smuggled the score back into the besieged city, where only 15 starving members of the Leningrad Radio Orchestra remained alive. More musicians were recruited and rehearsals began. The Red Army bombarded Nazi artillery positions mercilessly in order to ensure silence, and the performance was defiantly broadcast via loudspeaker throughout the city and to the enemy.
The first movement (“War”) is composed in traditional sonata form, with two themes stated at the outset: one powerful and majestic, the other slower and more tranquil. They are interrupted, though, by the approach of a march— the invasion theme. This is a simple, almost banal melody derived from an aria in The Merry Widow (known to be Hitler’s favorite operetta). The march repeats twelve times, growing in intensity and ferocity. The brass announce the arrival of the invaders, and all hell breaks loose.
After the battle subsides, a requiem arises from the ashes, and the movement concludes with a mournful restatement of the invasion theme.
The second movement (“Memories”) is a short scherzo filled with lively counterpoint, interrupted by more aggressive music, as though reminiscences of the joyful past are being interrupted by the present reality.
In the third movement (“Russia’s Vastness”), we are treated to a soundscape of Leningrad at night, the music portraying the quiet moonlit streets. Like the second movement, this reverie is interrupted as the siege intrudes on the scene.
The battle returns in a final push for “Victory”. A pensive string melody arises but is undercut by the return of the invasion theme, and the chaos of combat returns. Themes from previous movements appear as the people arise to confront the invaders. The music climaxes and attempts to embrace the triumph of victory, but elements of the invasion music still lurk within this happy ending. The enemies from without have been vanquished, but the threat remains from those who lurk within.
Copyright © 2019 Chris Myers. All rights reserved. Unauthorized distribution or reproduction prohibited.