Dvořák ‘New World’ Symphony

City Halls, Glasgow 15/5/26

Scottish Chamber Orchestra; Maxim Emelyanychev (conductor); Steven Osborne (piano), Aaron Azunda Akugbo (trumpet)

The last of three outings for a “basket of goodies” programme presented by the Scottish Chamber Orchestra under their Principal Conductor Maxim Emelyanychev was on Friday 15th May in Glasgow’s City Halls. The headline act, in the second half, was Dvořák’s iconic 'New World' Symphony, his ‘Ninth’. Before the interval were two Shostakovich masterworks, his enigmatic, sardonic Symphony No.9 (what Bernstein called an “anti-Ninth”) and the youthful ‘Concerto for Piano, Trumpet and Strings’ (alias the Piano Concerto No.1), with Scottish pianist Steven Osborne and Nigerian-Scottish trumpeter Aaron Azunda Akugbo as soloists. The concert was dedicated to the memory of Brian Schiele, a much-loved violist and one of the longest-serving members of the orchestra, recently deceased. Principal violist Max Mandel introduced the programme with words of fond remembrance. The concert was well attended. The four double-basses high up the back of the stage cut impressive iconography.

Ninth symphonies are often burdened with myth, mystique and expectations of gravitas. For many composers, including Beethoven, Schubert, Bruckner and Mahler, ‘ninth’ has meant ‘last completed’ and ‘valedictory’. Far from challenging these expectations, Shostakovich fuelled the rumour in 1945 that he was planning a large-scale epic work, a monument to the unbearable suffering, sacrifices and losses borne by the Soviet Union in the ‘Great Patriotic War’ A fitting companion in a trilogy with the 7th, with its depiction of the horrors of invasion and siege, grieving for the fallen, and a spirit of defiance and hope; and the 8th, more graphically anguished in places, benumbed and traumatised in others, yet with a glimmer of hope for peace and normal life at the end. The Ninth that emerged was very different from its two wartime predecessors. The first movement begins as if it is Shostakovich’s answer to Prokofiev’s ‘Classical’ 1st Symphony, Haydnesque lightness in a sonata form, complete with a straight exposition repeat. But without the elegance, and there are oddities. A certain militaristic swagger sounds parodic; the second theme is almost ludicrously trite, like an advertising jingle or a football chant (Shostakovich loved the beautiful game and was a qualified referee). The first trombone seems obsessed with a two-note dominant-tonic figure and derails the end of the development by repeating it out of place until his colleagues give up and start the recapitulation with the jingle second theme. It is humorous, but also edgy, with an element of forced jollity. Maxim Emelyanychev caught this duality perfectly. The slow movement is a nocturne, a soliloquy for Maximiliano Martín’s clarinet, alternating with stealthy, creeping muted strings. There are moments of mounting anxiety and a relaxation of tension at the end. The hectic scherzo is festive at first but becomes more anxious and, after evoking a troop of Cossacks galloping across open steppe, winds down to a halt, linking attacca to the 4th movement. Three stern admonitions from the lower brass are each answered in turn by a recitative from Cerys Ambrose-Evans bassoon, eventually placating them. The apparent profundity of this exchange is subverted by the bassoon’s attacca first theme of the finale, an irreverent piece of burlesque buffoonery. Wind arabesques and another football song, both deliciously and rather archly chromatic, furnish the other two themes of the finale, ingeniously developed, but with tongue firmly in cheek. After a false ending (how very Haydnesque) the real coda builds from the first theme, only to conclude with a figure that has been lurking in the bass accompaniment. Shostakovich 9 is bonkers but brilliant. It received an outing that displayed it in all its incomprehensible glory. If it has a message, it is perhaps something like: “We’ve just been through Hell; let’s not talk about it – just sup up and have another”.

Shostakovich’s 1933 First Concerto also hovers irreverently at the very edges of tastefulness but, by contrast, is not remotely “about” distressing things left unsaid. Scored for piano, trumpet and strings and written for the 27-year old composer himself to perform, it has a chamber feel, exactly the kind of music at which the SCO excel. The basses moved down to a more intimate arrangement of the strings. As always, Maxim Emelyanychev conducted sans podium, on the same level as the players, and not only visually. Something of the playful duality of the music was also hinted by the dress of the soloists: Steven arrived to the stage in black; Aaron wearing a colourful African shirt. The outer movements are episodic collages which flip mercurially between passages of neo-classicism and 1920s vaudeville irreverence, with every semblance of sincerity debunked by mockery. The similarity of the piano part to an improvised 1920s silent movie accompaniment is not accidental, as Shostakovich had worked as a cinema pianist in Leningrad while at the Leningrad Conservatoire. Only in the slow movement is there any semblance of emotional depth. The two soloists are variously partners in crime, ribald banterers, sympathetic confidants and attention-seeking competitors, while the ripieni strings do their best to keep up with the mayhem. The artistic rapport of the soloists, conductor and string players was in constant evidence. The first movement, hinting at the unrestrained creativity that was to explode 3 years later in the 4th Symphony, only to be buried in a drawer unperformed for nearly three decades, was immensely entertaining with deliciously expressive phrasing and stylish rubato from the piano, delightful pizzicato from the 4 double basses and some soulful playing from the violas. The slow movement was a troubled melancholy nocturnal reverie, with warm muted string playing underlying an increasingly agitated piano. After a climax, the dejected thumps in the left hand of the piano expressed lonely frustration, answered at first by the muted strings reaching out with tenderness, but it was the muted trumpet solo reprise of the movement’s melancholy opening melody that consoled the distraught piano, and the duet which followed was unforgettably beautiful, concluding at peace. The 3rd movement, really a brief, meditative and impressionistic Moderato bridge to the finale, seems as if it is going to be on its best behaviour and finally achieve some neo-classical gravitas, but of course it doesn’t last. The finale is even more episodically irreverent than the first movement. Hilarious hi-jinks with the soloists lead to a romp which collapses to an abortive fugue with strings and piano. A vaudeville solo drinking-song for trumpet (which begs for rude lyrics and receives a dismissive discordant thump from the piano) was absolutely hilarious, as was the chaotic breakneck piano cadenza which followed (almost as fast as Shostakovich himself played it) and the drunken coda. Delightful madness, prompting the customary enthusiastic Glasgow ovation from a delighted audience, rewarded by a surprise encore, Steven accompanying Aaron in a bluesy jazz arrangement of a song, which sounded familiar but I remain unable to identify.

The orchestra was back up to full strength for the second half. Dvořák’s 1893 Symphony No.9, ‘From the New World’ is the diary of a Czech composer, prestigiously appointed Director of a new conservatory in New York, stunned by the bold, confident thrust and bustle of a modern industrial democracy, enthralled by the rich heritage of African-American and Native American music, yet profoundly homesick for his native Bohemia. All of these and other conflicting emotions find the fullest expression in an expertly-crafted symphonic masterpiece which many consider his finest (though I prefer the Eighth as a truer personal document and consider the Seventh to be more compelling example of his craft). In the right hands, though, the Ninth can blow the others out of the water. Maxim Emelyanychev’s hands are definitely the right hands, while the SCO’s faithfulness to chamber sensibilities and artistic partnership bring an extra dimension to the realisation. The exquisite shaping of phrases and the subtle differences when they are repeated, the bold use of rubato and pauses to tease the last ounce of expressiveness from the melodies, the flawless dynamic balance from the boldest tutti to the most delicate pianissimo throughout, without ever losing an iota of the cogency of the musical argument, and, of course, the total commitment of the players, delivered a top quality performance. The first movement was bold and uncompromising, yet there were also tender moments, including lovely solos from principal flute André Cebrián. The stoic nobility of the cor anglais solo from Katherine Bryer was unforgettable in the slow movement, but the anxious minor key melodic interlude and the faster spring dance interlude were allowed to express their unique individual character. The rhythmic scherzo seemed to fuse Czech and American ideas, while the sunny trio, with its emulation of the cooing of pigeons the composer saw during an extended restful sojourn in the Czech community in Spillville, Iowa, was utterly charming. The main theme of the first movement, returning to be quoted throughout the symphony, faces a final showdown with the thrusting theme of the finale. Even though I know the piece inside out, Maxim Emelyanychev allowed me to wonder which theme would win this time. Even though the finale theme wins in the major key, the diminuendo on the final chord shows us it is bittersweet. Dvořák lets us see how much he loves America, but how desperately he misses Bohemia. A great, compelling performance of a masterwork, much to the delight of the Glasgow audience. Full marks from me.