Britten The Performer
Symphony No. 14 opus 135, for Soprano, Bass and Chamber Orchestra[a]; Britten: Nocturne, for Tenor, Seven Obligato Instruments and Strings, opus 60[b]
Benjamin Britten, English Chamber Orchestra [a,b]; Galina Vishnevskaya (soprano), Mark Reshetin (bass)[a]; Peter Pears (tenor), Richard Adeney (flute), Peter Graeme (cor anglais), Thea King (clarinet), Martin Gatt (bassoon), Ifor James (horn), James Blade (timpani), Osian Ellis (harp)[b].
BBC Music BBCB 8013-2. ADD. TT 77:32.
Recorded live Maltings, Snape, UK, 14 June 1970[a]; live Queen Elizabeth Hall, London, 27 November 1967[b].

In many ways Shostakovich's Symphony No. 14 is one of his most brilliant creations. Far from the morbid self-absorbed work inspired by the looming shadow of death it is often taken to be, the 11-movement work contains some of his most inspired ironies and rich dramatisations. From startling spectral timbres to the sabre-sharp rhythms, this work continued to break new ground for the ageing composer. Whether one sees it as a reaction to impending death, or the exorcism of decades of having to witness it in its many forms, the No. 14 is a powerful statement that demands powerful execution.

While the number of good recordings of the work are steadily increasing, no single recording can yet claim to be the definitive issue. The most authoritative recordings are sonically compromised, while modern hi-fi recordings simply cannot match the early Russian performances.

This recent issue from BBC Music under the Britten The Performer series takes the No. 14 one step closer to that ultimate recording. Recorded live on 14 June 1970 at the Aldeburgh Festival at Maltings, Snape, UK, this represents the symphony's world première outside the USSR. That it is conducted by the dedicatee of the work Benjamin Britten and sung by two of the soloists who first premièred the work in the USSR will certainly add to the historical value of the recording. As the icing on the cake, the sleevenotes are written by the very same Donald Mitchell who prepared the original programme notes to this 1970 concert.

Mitchell's fascinating notes and additional insights make compelling reading, and almost makes up for the absence of texts for both the No. 14 and Britten's Nocturne. As Mitchell observes, these two works share a special kinship, and to be able to compare their texts would have been especially useful.

Britten's recording competes with Rudolf Barshai on Russian Disc using the same soloists. Barshai's is a near première (RDCD 11192, recorded Oct 6 1969), and his reading is as authentic as one can hope to get. It is also a terrifying performance of remarkable precision and power. The soloists sing as if their lives are at stake, the ensemble is so crisp one can hardly believe they have just learnt the score, and the Moscow Chamber percussion descend upon the work like a pack of bloodthirsty hounds. Never before have I heard castanets and woodblock invoke such terror.

Marred only by a thin recording and a tendency to distort at the loud passages, Barshai's session is high-voltage, and is unique for the inclusion of a slight modification of the score: the addition of percussion at the last two bars, a suggestion of Barshai's which Shostakovich undertook but later dropped (see Wilson, Pg 414). Another similarly harrowing recording is conducted by Rostropovich using the very same performers, issued by Revelation just before they pulled back the label. The Rostropovich (Rev 10101, 12 Feb 1973) is a good alternative to the Barshai: it is nearly as arresting, the performance is just as assured and the soloists are more seasoned. It is unfortunately in mono, and loses out slightly to Barshai in sonic clarity (admirers of Rostropovich might also investigate his recording on Teldec for better sound).

That said, Britten does a marvellous job with the score and the English Chamber puts in a committed performance. The re-mastering is impressive, and the sound is warm and spacious with the timbres and textures well defined. There is some audience noise later in the performance, but by that time the listener is likely to be too captivated to notice.

The soloists too are given ample breathing room and are well-placed within the soundstage. The strings are full bodied and the basses are especially meaty considering there are only a pair of them. Their fullness and resonance is particularly appreciated in the sixth movement where the eerie combination of pizzicato and col legno is audible from the start at a reasonable volume. There are brief moments of slight distortion, chiefly in the sixth track (In the Sante Prison) and in the peak of the bass line in Lorelei, but thankfully these are isolated. (I also detected a slight aberration while listening on headphones, a strange electronic beeping that begins at 3:30 into the disc and continues sometime into the Malaguena. It is not noticeable on speakers and it is unclear if it's only my copy that has this defect).

Britten opens with the bleached wintry colours reminiscent of his own Peter Grimes seascape, and paints the rest of the work with similar colours. The Malaguena is not as vicious as Barshai's, and the percussion, while enthusiastic and alert, could give just that last ounce of fury that makes the Moscow forces so fearsome. The English Chamber seems to have slight trouble with the quick movements, which are tricky and require razor-sharp response. They tend to be a little cautious, and the mixed meters of the third movement (Lorelei) and the angry eighth movement (Zaporozhian Cossack's Reply) do not quite take us over the edge. But while speed and attack are not the ECO's strongest points, the readings are nevertheless passionate and spirited and the orchestra's conviction comes across forcefully.

The slow movements are perhaps where the ensemble excels. The Suicide is haunting, and Vishnevskaya gives the impression of floating above the ethereal string textures. There is a stylistic oddity between the fifth and sixth movements where Britten pauses for about 5 seconds (the score is marked attacca or 'without pause'). I do not know if this is deliberate. It does have the effect of structuring the first five movements as the 'first movement' and the next two as the 'slow movement', but it is nevertheless unusual.

Vishnevskaya's trademark delivery of Look Madam is the centrepiece of the symphony, the veritable mad-scene of the work. In both the Barshai and Rostropovich recordings she abandons precision of pitch to convey the full anger of the character with magnificent theatricality. Here she seems to take more care in the pitching, but her stamp of authority is undiminished.

Britten's Zaporozhian Cossacks Reply does not approach the fury of his rival Russians. Here Barshai is the most vehement, especially in the buildup of trilling block chords that ascend like an angry swarm of bees. Fortunately Reshetin throws all his weight behind the orchestra, and makes a powerful reading of the broad declamatory lines. After an impassioned O Delvig, Delvig, Britten serves up a desolate Finale. In the final pages one wishes the percussion would unleash all that they can give, to put the final nail in the coffin as it were.

Vishnevskaya and Reshetin are the driving force behind this performance, leading the English Chamber through the dark depths and tricky minefields of the work with effortless authority. The pair are more polished here in Aldeburgh, although I miss some of the tension (and Mme Vishnevskaya's hysteria) of the Barshai and Rostropovich performances.

Britten's Nocturne is the perfect companion to Shostakovich's harrowing symphony, and Peter Pears the perfect compliment to the scintillating Russian pair. The work seems to take up where the Shostakovich leaves off. It shares the same sense of darkness, of terror and indignation, of anger. The protagonist searches for light in a cold world: while Shostakovich surveys the real world and finds only corpses, ending his earthbound work in defiant fury, Britten takes over by slipping into a nightmarish dreamworld where salvation might possibly lie.

Recorded in London in 27 Nov. 1967, the Nocturne sounds even more vivid than the Shostakovich Symphony. And here more than in its predecessor (Serenade) Britten pushes the boundaries of the genre. Each song is set to a remarkable solo obligato - most gripping is the mocking bassoon accompanying Tennyson's Below The Thunders of the Upper Deep and the timpani provoking fear in the Wordsworth setting. Britten closes his work in a way that seems to sum up both works on this disc.

A setting of Shakespeare that while on one level is personally directed to his life-partner Pears also serves to resolve the questions left behind by Shostakovich.

The coupling of the two works thus makes this a compelling issue, and a special one for all its historical aspects. While Britten conducting the Shostakovich No. 14 will not reach the horrifying heights of terror delivered by Barshai or Rostropovich - indeed, will anyone ever do, for the two are certainly in a league of their own? - it is a searching performance and one that ought to find a permanent place in any Shostakovich collection.

C H Loh
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