Symphony No. 7 in C major 'Leningrad', Op. 60.
Valeri Polyansky, Russian State Symphony Orchestra.
Chandos CHAN 9621. DDD. TT 72:51.
Recorded Oct. 1996, Grand Hall, Moscow Conservatoire.

Symphony No. 7 in C major 'Leningrad', Op. 60.
Mark Wigglesworth, BBC National Orchestra of Wales.
BIS CD-873. DDD. TT 79:22.
Recorded 2 & 4 Dec. 1996, Brangwyn Hall, Swansea.

Two more different approaches to the Leningrad symphony could hardly be imagined. Wigglesworth's first entry in his projected Shostakovich symphonic cycle portrays the impact at the battlefront; with Polyansky we experience the effects of history-making events at a personal level, perhaps that of a grieving survivor.

Wigglesworth himself supplies BIS' booklet notes, and his description of the symphony makes it obvious that he conceives of it pictorially. Accordingly, he delivers it in installments, demarcated by wide tempo swings and extreme variations in dynamic level. This occasionally feels gratuitous. At the beginning of the first movement's march, the side drum is quite inaudible at any volume setting that would permit playing the climax without shattering one's eardrums and relationships with one's neighbours. When the muted trumpet and trombones pick up the theme at Fig. 29/10:36, they play with at least a p or two more than the single one Shostakovich indicated, so the sforzando sneeze on horns at Fig. 31-1/11:23 sounds comically incongruous. At the other end, the snail's pace at which Wigglesworth approaches the last movement's final climax caused my attention to wander.

Those are a number of negative comments, but this is by no means a poor performance. The net result of Wigglesworth's direction is a truly menacing and cruel Leningrad, his orchestra playing as if possessed. His conducting successfully translates his conception; take his troubled second movement, mirroring what he writes about it: "Shostakovich titled the second movement 'Memories'. They are sad memories. Sad because it is so hard to dance now. It is even hard to remember how you used to dance." And if, at times, I felt that Wigglesworth was imposing himself on the symphony, well, so did Bernstein in his Deutsche Grammophon remake (DG 427632-2) which is, nevertheless, rightly regarded as one of the top recommendations - sometimes impositions work out nicely!

By comparison, Polyansky's performance is more symphonic. It does not follow, however, that it is bland, as I found to be the case with Yuri Temirkanov's oddly uninvolving traversal with the St. Petersburg Philharmonic (RCA Red Seal 09026-62548-2). On the contrary, it is emotionally intense … its emotions just happen to be directed internally. Polyansky's second movement paints an image of untroubled times in a way that Wigglesworth's doesn't, so it is doubly effective when that image is disturbed by the troubling premonition in the middle of the movement. The third movement is genuinely mournful, evoking a real sense of loss and emptiness that I found most affecting (the mourning in Wigglesworth's version isn't as intimate).

Although Polyansky's performance is not as spectacular as that on the BIS disc, his orchestra play very well. Fans of authentic Russian brass sound will enjoy the raspberries blown in the concluding climax, and rarely have I found the song beginning on solo flute at Fig. 112+2/3:37 in the third movement as expressive as here.

Chandos' sound serves the martial idée fixe of the first movement superbly, the side drum seeming to begin far off in the distance, marching ever nearer as the volume increases. While bass is not as overpowering - and cymbal crashes not as sharp - as one has come to expect in the digital age, they do sound more similar to what one hears in a live concert.

To call this a thinking man's Leningrad would be to insult other rewarding alternatives, including Wigglesworth's, so I'll content myself with saying that this is a performance that I will be taking off the shelf at regular intervals.

W. Mark Roberts
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DSCH No. 10.
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