Dmitri SHOSTAKOVICH (1906-1975)
 Piano Concerto No 1 in C minor, Op.35 (1933)1 [22:37]
 Piano Trio No 2 in E minor, Op 67 (1944)2 [27:15]
 Piano Concerto No 2 in F, Op 102 (1957)1 [19:22]
 Simon Trpčeski (piano), Janáček Philharmonic Orchestra/Cristian Macelaru1
 rec. 12-14 August 2020, Dům kultury mesta Ostravy, Czech Republic    1
 Simon Trpčeski (piano), Aleksandar Krapovski (violin), Alexander Somov
    (cello)2
 rec. 11-12 July 2020, National Music Academy, Sofia, Bulgaria2
 Reviewed as downloaded from press preview.
 LINN RECORDS CKD659 
    [69:38]
	
	For an artist so deeply affected by the political climate around him, and
    especially for one so able to capture the shifting tides of personal
    fortune (or often rather misfortune) with notes on a stave, these three
    works represent remarkable snapshots of the most turbulent decades of
    Shostakovich’s life.
 
    The first concerto, written shortly before Shostakovich’s first
    denunciation in 1936, is everything one might expect from the young,
    brilliant composer, filled with sardonic wit, musical quotations and
    virtuoso sparkle. Trpčeski and Macelaru introduce a surprising degree of
    chamber-like intimacy into the opening passages; the care with which the
    first melody is coaxed from the piano and the restraint with which the
    orchestra responds in turn is a world away from most extrovert accounts.
    This is an interpretation which brings out more of the lyricism of the
    Romantic era past than the individuality which Shostakovich pioneered; for
    an excellent account of the latter approach, listen to Alexander Melnikov
    with Teodor Currentzis and the Mahler Chamber Orchestra (Harmonia Mundi
    HMC902104), the unashamedly brittle timbres and rhythms and abrupt tempo
    changes taking individuality to an extreme, but to truly masterful effect.
 
    The second movement, done well, is hauntingly beautiful. I mentioned
    previously Trpčeski’s care over the tone he elicits from the Steinway
    instrument, and that tone pays dividends here – most remarkable is the
    weightlessness of the sound in the latter half of the movement,
    complemented by the muted trumpet of Andrei Kavalinski in an almost
    otherworldly duet. The interplay is excellent, with just that touch of
    sympathetic give in tempo; under the superlative work of the two soloists,
    one does just wish for a little more shaping from the orchestral
    accompaniment. The final two movements exhibit more of the excellent solo
    work as seen previously, and the wit and sparkle are certainly brought out,
    but the difficulty is, as ever, in drawing the disparate elements of the
    finale into a coherent narrative – a little more momentum and direction
    would have been appreciated.
 
    Onto the second item in this chronologically arranged disc, and the tone of
    the Second Piano Trio clearly betrays the dark turn in the composer’s life
    in the past decade, the horrors of the Second World War atop the
    ever-present reminder of his own changing fortunes as Stalin tightened his
    grip on the country. The opening lament in the cello’s harmonics are glassy
    and eerie; as the other instruments join, the haunting beauty of the tune
    in fugato, here always played with the utmost attention to tone and
    balance, evokes a scene of desolation. As the momentum picks up through the
    movement, unease is the unifying factor throughout passages of defiance and
    despondency; the performance holds this in abundance whilst never
    sacrificing tone.
 
    Shostakovich’s scherzos contain some of his most original content, and the
    key to their performance is not to be afraid of making the music sound ugly
    – often this is precisely the intended effect and when the music is at its
    most powerful. The abrasive and grating tone of the strings, coupled with
    the brisk, almost unhinged tempo, sounds every bit the grotesque parody
    that it should.
 
    The third movement Passacaglia – beginning funereally, building to a deeply
    disturbing climax, followed by a passage of terrifying desolation, this is
    music which should not leave the listener settled. The latter section truly
    stood out, and I found myself straining, clinging on to every dissonant
    pianissimo chord, manipulated masterfully by the trio, each in tune with
    each other and the precise balancing act required to evoke maximum
    emotional devastation. The final movement, played attacca, begins with a
    child-like tune, which is gradually twisted beyond recognition to a climax,
    a furious recapitulation of the first movement theme. The listener hears
    glimpses of past movements, alternating between rage, mourning and
    exhaustion at breakneck speed, before a breakdown of an ending haunted by
    the ghosts of the past. Listening to this work through leaves one drained;
    if emotional effect is the standard by which music should be judged, this
    is composition of the highest order; to say that this performance does the
    work justice is high praise indeed.
 
    The Second Piano Concerto, yet another decade on, is once again completely
    different in temperament. Oft dismissed, indeed by the composer himself, as
    being of ‘no redeeming artistic merit’, and ‘easy listening’ it may be, but
    the piece provides a glimpse of Shostakovich’s humour; perhaps still not
    entirely content, with the similarity between the first movement and the
    Tocsin of the 11th Symphony a reminder of the looming storm
    clouds of the Soviet invasion of Hungary, but certainly a shift in tone in
    a post-Stalin world.
 
    I prefer the more pointed approach of Melnikov in the first movement;
    Trpčeski plays excellently but does not extract the same variety of colour
    from the keyboard. However, his care over tone which permeates the rest of
    this disc pays dividends in the second movement, where the air of dignified
    nostalgia, combined with the grace of the melody, is deeply moving. The
    final movement is a show of pianistic fireworks, festivities infused with a
    healthy dose of wit – a parody of technical exercises, a joke for his son’s
    graduation. Technical brilliance and said wit are certainly provided for in
    this performance, with Macelaru and the Janáček Philharmonic bestowing
    solid accompaniment throughout.
 
    From these three very different portraits of an extraordinary composer the
    trio stands out as an excellent performance of one of Shostakovich’s
    finest, underappreciated works.
 
    Colin C.F. Chow
 
    Previous review ~
    
        David McDade (Recording of the Month)