Symphony No. 10 in E minor, opus 93.
Vladimir Fedoseyev, Ostankino Large Symphony Orchestra.
Moscow Studio Archives MOS19063. __D. TT 52:56.
Recorded Moscow, 1987.

Here we have an authentically Russian performance of Shostakovich's finest symphony, from infrequent visitors to the composer's discography. Fedoseyev and his long-time Ostankino companions (the Moscow Radio Symphony Orchestra, to their friends) could until recently be heard in this symphony in a 1998 recording on the Swiss label Relief (CR 991047; deleted). By then the same band was going by the alias Tchaikovsky Symphony Orchestra of Moscow Radio, though the honorific seems not to have inspired them to greater heights - there is fatal frailty in brass and woodwinds.

Performance quality is superior in the earlier recording before us here, though it still does not challenge the finest available. The crucial clarinet solo in the first movement at Fig. 5/2:54 is muffled, and coordination between string and wind banks in the fourth movement is not always precise. String ensemble could also stand to be sharper in the third movement climax. That said, instrumental pigments richly render the exotic Oriental hues of this symphony. Fans of Soviet-era braying trombones will not be disappointed, and the percussion boom fabulously deep and resonant. Most important, the orchestra play with crimson-blooded commitment, inspiring a high degree of emotional engagement in the listener.

The 1987 recording also trumps its remake as an interpretation. The oddly genial later conception is notable for extreme rubato. Fedoseyev's tempo decisions were less idiosyncratic in the earlier performance, mercifully so in the reprise in the third movement of the first movement's opening theme, which crawls like plate tectonics in the 1998 recording. Admittedly, some slow passages do sound measured in the present recording, but climaxes are as vehement as one could wish.

Moscow Studio Archives' source for this recording did not reveal whether it was a digital or analogue master, though faint hiss may betray the latter. In any case, the engineering is commendable. Andrew Farach-Colton's readable notes meld history and musical description, and make a decent introduction for the non-specialist (there is a minor inaccuracy in dating the Piano Quintet).

Overall, this release does not challenge the synoptic architectural vision of Herbert von Karajan's resilient 1966 recording (DG Galleria 429 716-2), which carries a comparable mid-price entrance fee. But with Rozhdestvensky, Kondrashin and the best of Mravinsky currently missing from the catalogue, this all-Russian contender earns a qualified welcome.

W. Mark Roberts
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