Symphony no 14, opus 135 – Dmitri Shostakovich
by richibi
“Portrait of Shostakovich“ (1976)
_______
though I’d feared undertaking Shostakovich’s
14th Symphony – it would be a set of eleven
movements, each setting its own poem to
music, poems by Federico García Lorca,
Guillaume Apollinaire, Rainer Maria Rilke,
and one Wilhelm Küchelbecher, translated
from their respective languages into Russian,
compounded by once again the fact that this
wasn’t either a symphony, but strictly speaking
a song cycle – I found the 14th Symphony to be,
counterintuitively, a triumph, all the issues I’d
earlier listed as compositional misadventures
– the play of voice and instruments, the dangers
of using a single singer, one pitch, to anchor an
orchestral work – had been dealt with expertly,
all the obbligatos, even, were back, I couldn’t
wait to hear it again
Schubert had done several song cycles,
“Die Schöne Müllerin“, “Schwanengesang“,
“Winterreise“, for instance, sad stories,
steeped in Romantic torment, not unlike,
still in 1969, Shostakovich the 14th
Schubert, though, accompanies with just a
piano
but a music cycle, without voice this one,
no poems, just musical ones, of Liszt, his
“Années de pèlerinage“, his “Years as a
Pilgrim“, three years, one, two, three,
1835 through to 1838, travelling through
Switzerland and Italy, is consummate,
ethereal, exquisite, and goes on for a
few utterly enchanting hours
one New Year’s Eve, I sat before a cozy fire,
comfortable on my fluffy sofa, cuddled up
in the several picturesque melodies along
the musical way, like station stops on a
train
I did the entire trip with him, nearly three
hours, the music like a sonic looking glass,
a hearing glass, a hearing film, not only
transparent, but transcendental, into a
very wonderland, beyond even its mere
incidental geography
that’s what art does, and music, when
you look, listen
enjoy
R ! chard