Romances & Monologues
Preface to the Complete Collection of my Works and a Brief Reflection upon this Preface, op. 123; Five Romances on Texts from Krokodil Magazine No. 24, 30 August 1965, op. 121; Five Romances on Verses of Yevgeny Dolmatovsky, op. 98; Six Romances on Verses by British Poets, op. 62; Four Monologues on Verses by Pushkin, op. 91.
Semyon Skigin (piano), Sergei Leiferkus (bass).
Koch Schwann 3-1095-2. DDD. TT 50:58.
Recorded Saal 3, SFB (Sender Freies Berlin), Berlin, May 2000.

Shostakovich: Complete Songs, Volume One - 1950-1956: Vocal Cycles of the 'Fifties
Two Romances on Verses by Lermontov, op. 84[a]; Four Songs to Words by Dolmatovsky, op. 86[b]; Four Monologues on Verses by Pushkin, op. 91[c]; Greek Songs, sans. op. R[d]; Five Romances on Verses of Yevgeny Dolmatovsky, op. 98[e]; Spanish Songs, op. 100[f].
Yuri Serov (piano), Natalia Biryukova (mezzo-soprano)[a], Victoria Evtodieva (soprano)[b], Fyodor Kuznetsov (bass)[c,e], Mikhail Lukonin (baritone)[d,f].
Delos DE 3304. DDD. TT 71:00.
Listed as recorded St. Petersburg, May 2001.
[a,d]World premiere recordings.

Shostakovich: Complete Songs, Volume Two - 1965-1974: The Last Years
A Foreword to My Complete Works and a Brief Contemplation with Respect to this Foreword, op. 123[a]; Five Romances on Words from Krokodil Magazine, op. 121[b]; Seven Poems by Alexander Blok, op. 127[c]; Six Poems by Marina Tsvetayeva, op. 143[d]; Four Poems of Captain Lebyadkin, op. 146[e].
Yuri Serov (piano), Victoria Evtodieva (soprano)[c], Lyubov Sokolova (mezzo-soprano)[d], Fyodor Kuznetsov (bass)[a,b,e], Lidia Kovalenko (violin)[c], Irina Molokina (cello)[c].
Delos DE 3307. DDD. TT 69:40.
Listed as recorded St. Catherine Lutheran Church, St. Petersburg, 2 April 1998[b], 4 May 1998[c], 15 April 2000[d], 18 June 2001[a,e].

Delos hereby command the attention of Shostakovich devotees everywhere by announcing plans to record the complete songs for voice and piano. Yes, we've heard the claim before, but not from a firm as large as Delos, with the resources to carry such a project to completion. Also under review is a disc of selected Romances and Monologues from Koch Schwann featuring bass Sergei Leiferkus.

The first two volumes of Delos' projected series are handsome productions, each providing a full set of English and Russian texts, all packaged in bold, distinctive graphics. The plan is to present the songs in chronological groupings. Cycles within each volume also follow each other chronologically, presenting the listener with an evolving creativity.

Those who are familiar with the Shostakovich song discography of recent years may recognise some of the performers' names among those listed in the above headers. In 1998, the independent label René Gailly issued what was announced to be the first, but alas turned out to be the only, volume of a projected survey of the complete songs, which I reviewed in DSCH No. 11 (René Gailly/Vox Temporis VTP CD92 041; deleted). A simultaneous A/B comparison reveals that four of the five recordings contained therein have been incorporated into the current releases (the remaining cycle lies outside the chronological boundaries of both Delos volumes). As a consequence of this and other past entries in the discography, a few of Delos' claims of "first CD appearance" and "world premiere recording" must be amended. However, the duplication does give wider circulation to these fine performances, remastered with slightly longer pauses between songs. They join other recitals by the same musicians.

Delos' first volume demonstrates that during the 1950s Shostakovich was still writing art songs in a comparatively conservative style. Moreover, his choice of texts at the time - from folklore, from 19th century Russian classics Lermontov and Pushkin, from the perfunctory pen of his contemporary Yevgeny Dolmatovsky - could elicit only the most reactionary lyrical gestures. With the exception of the Lermontov and Pushkin songs, they seem to arise from an alternate Shostakovich, appeasement oriented, sarcasm muted, cleansed of contradictions, stylistically retrograde. One might weigh external against internal necessities coming to bear on Shostakovich throughout the decade, producing parallel shifts toward simplification that can be noted in his work in other genres. Yet beneath the inoffensive musical surfaces of these songs, one should not be too surprised to find occasional textual evidence of defiance and controversial sympathies, at once plausibly deniable yet immediately recognisable to the attuned ear. Nor should one be surprised to find songs that are free of hidden agenda. If Shostakovich's stylistic fingerprints seem nearly wiped clean in most of the song cycles of this period, these works also boast a number of inspired moments.

The cycles based on the Lermontov and Pushkin poems, from 1950 and 1952, respectively, are easily the most substantial of the decade. They exude, among other things, profound integrity. Both share a gloomy, introspective lyricism that has points of comparison with the near contemporaneous First Violin Concerto and Tenth Symphony, works reflecting the oppressiveness of the final Stalin years.

The two-part Lermontov cycle is a verifiable world premiere recording that fills a long-standing gap in the discography. One may wonder how such a compelling pair of songs managed to remain so long neglected. Lermontov's verses are nature-inspired, love-tinged, and darkened by suggestions of death. The musical settings hearken back to the traditions of the Russian art song. They share, uncharacteristically for Shostakovich, a weaving, smoky cantilena, pungently gloomy and heartfelt, supported by an accompaniment of searching arpeggiations.

Here, mezzo Natalia Biryukova makes a hauntingly eloquent case for them. The first song is low-keyed, but its incipient passions are carried over and lead to two moving crests in the second song. I frankly cannot think of anything else in the Shostakovich canon that comes close to evoking this foreboding mood. Together these two songs comprise a surprising discovery.

The contemplative Pushkin Monologues are cut from the same dark cloth, but offer a greater degree of lyrical and dramatic contrast. Gennady Rozhdestvensky's imaginative yet faithfully idiomatic orchestral version with bass Anatoli Safiulin makes a revealing case for the work (BMG/Melodiya 74321 63461 2; reviewed in DSCH No. 11; deleted). Not only does the orchestration bring out its ever-shifting dark hues, but in this form one can almost hear it as a mini-symphonic conception, with its brooding opening song, followed by a melancholic waltz-scherzo, an impassioned slow song, and a resolute finale. The ominous depiction of impoverished Jewish peasant life in the first song, Fragment, and the anti-Czarist lines ("the heavy chains will drop", etc.) in the third song, In the Depth of Siberian Mines, carry political currency that evoke comparison with another recently completed cycle, From Jewish Folk Poetry.

It should be noted that although Delos claim the CD premiere of the op. 91 Pushkin cycle, this recording is in fact reissued from the René Gailly disc. Moreover, both releases were preceded by two other recordings: the aforementioned Rozhdestvensky orchestral version, first released on CD in 1994, and, a year later, the CD premiere of the original piano version on Saison Russe (RUS 288 089; deleted) with the rather drab Piotr Gluboky accompanied by Natalia Rassudova.

The Pushkin Monologues' current appearances on CD feature noted soloists: Fyodor Kuznetsov on Delos and Sergei Leiferkus on Koch Schwann. Leiferkus is no stranger to Shostakovich's music. He has been the soloist in recordings of the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Symphonies, the Michelangelo Suite, and the Six Romances on English Poets. Noted for his roles in Russian opera, Kuznetsov also includes the Fourteenth Symphony in his repertoire and is featured prominently in Volume 2 of the current Delos series.

Kuznetsov's bass has enormous presence and is remarkably rich and resonant. Leiferkus' baritone is more tensely assertive, also possessing much character. Kuznetsov, with his warmer, earthy tones, emphasizes the dark atmospheric quality of these Pushkin settings, while the dramatic element is more pronounced in Leiferkus' reading. This is especially true in the opening song, whose grimly expansive lyricism is wonderfully invoked by Kuznetsov, but whose cantorial associations with Jewish music are better suggested by Leiferkus. Both have a natural feel for the work's pervasive gloominess. In particular, they excel in capturing the rising wave of passion in the third song.

Contrasting with the depths of the Lermontov and Pushkin cycles is the straightforwardness of the Four Songs to Lyrics by Evgeny Dolmatovsky, op. 86, originally intended to accompany one of the author's plays. Each of these graceful songs catches the ear with tunes that are evidently tailored for popular appeal. The first, Motherland Hears, was for many years the theme song for Moscow Radio. It also bears the distinction of being the first song sung in outer space. With few secrets to surrender, the comely charms of the four songs are well captured by the pearly tones of Viktoria Evtodieva, whose talents are heard to even better advantage in the Blok cycle on the second Delos volume.

The second of the two Dolmatovsky settings, op. 98, is represented by the same performance as on the René Gailly issue, its true first appearance on CD. The work is a sunny bouquet of five love songs, the title of each beginning with the words "Day of" (Day of Meeting, Day of Declaration, etc.). Songs of joyful expression that have a less precious, more developmental character than those of the earlier Dolmatovsky cycle surround a more serious central song. The accompaniment to the first song, Day of Meeting, alludes to the famous love aria from Wagner's Tristan und Isolde as a melodic outgrowth of the opening vamp. Both Leiferkus and Kuznetsov again give fine performances in this work, though the latter's warmer, mellower tone makes a more appealing case for these amorous inspirations.

Each of the four Greek Songs, here in their world premiere recording, is heroic in character and is derived from pre-existing musical material related to one or another episode of Greek history. One is based on a guerrilla battle hymn, another on the Hymn of ELAS, the most popular song of the Greek resistance movement. The unsuspecting ear would never guess that Shostakovich was the composer. In fact, three of the four songs, written in march tempo, sound as though they belong in the repertoire of the Red Army Chorus. The brightness and heartiness of Mikhail Lukonin's baritone are well suited to these robust settings, whose extroverted, nicely turned melodies immediately catch the ear and raise the spirits.

The Spanish Songs, op. 100, present Shostakovich's impersonation of Isaac Albeniz, with their five settings of pre-existing folk material in the Spanish style. Delos' claim that their recording is the first appearance of the work on CD is surprising since the cycle has previously appeared in digital format no fewer than five times. Two recent recordings are noteworthy, one featuring mezzo-soprano Olga Borodina (Philips 289 446 708-2) and another featuring a lively performance by bass Paul Plishka (Dinemec DCCD 016).

The graceful flair of Mikhail Lukonin's baritone, naturally bright and clear, fits this work well. His fine articulation and an appealingly energetic presence suit these primarily faster songs of lighter content.

It was only after 1960 that Shostakovich's song cycles began to take on greater emotional complexity, greater depth. The cycles of this later period fall into two very different categories: the satirical, as in Satires, the Preface, the Krokodil Romances, and the Captain Lebyadkin Songs; and the serious, as in the cycles after Blok, Tsvetayeva, and Michelangelo. Volume 2 of the Delos releases contains all of the above except the Satires and the Michelangelo Sonnets.

Among the serious, I have always felt that the op. 127 Blok Romances represent Shostakovich's unequalled masterpiece. I elaborated on this judgement in DSCH No. 11, and am more convinced of it with each hearing. The work is remarkable for its elevated lyrical flow, its various levels of organic unity (in particular, its interlocking scheme of instrumentation), and its cohesive dramatic structure in which songs of innocent yearning and morbid agitation are set against one another, leading, in the last two songs, to a deeply moving resolution. It is no exaggeration to call its scope symphonic.

The work, in its subtleties and extremes, demands almost too much of its soloist and invites a wide variation of interpretation. A performance that satisfactorily meets its many stringent requirements is hard to come by. The early recording by soprano Elizabeth Soderstrom and pianist Vladimir Ashkenazy (Decca CD 411 940-2DH; deleted) was a sturdy classic that, in its intensity, emotional grasp, and concentration, set a high standard. Another notable offering from the LP era was the 1977 Melodiya release (C10-06875-76) that featured soprano Galina Pisarenko, whose slender tone, blessed with tensile strength, focused on the sheer immediacy of the work. Brigita Sulcová sang the work in Czech with gripping intensity, though her decidedly extroverted manner overlooked some of the more tender moments in the score (Praga PR 250 009; deleted). A BMG/Melodiya release (74321 53237 2; deleted) featured a live performance by Galina Vishnevskaya with Mstislav Rostropovich accompanying on cello. Vishnevskaya's operatic, at times shrill, approach didn't quite get under the music's skin. Of more recent vintage is a remarkable 1993 performance by Natalia Gerassimova, accompanied by the Moscow Trio (Saison Russe RUS 288 088; reviewed in DSCH No. 14). Gerassimova plumbs the work's depths with the kind of penetrating drama and verbal engagement that, for me, rank her among the work's most profound interpreters.

In the current Delos release, Victoria Evtodieva brings her own admirable gifts to the work. As I wrote in my previous review of the René Gailly disc, I find in Ms. Evtodieva's voice a "well-matched combination of timbral purity and the ability to meet the extraordinary dynamic challenges of the work." It is essential that in the agitated passages of the final two songs the betrayal of the innocence of the earlier songs is signalled by outcries of heartfelt despair. Evtodieva, with her impressive dynamic range, makes good on these climactic moments, delivering a solidly moving realisation of the work.

In contrast to the head-on emotional collision of the Blok songs, the Tsvetayeva Suite weaves a complex yet richly expressive tapestry of autumnal reflections. The musical ideas are strong. In contrast to the shorter motifs in the Blok cycle, they take the form of longer phrases, a number of them constituting tone rows. The tone rows, the oscillating fourths, the sparse piano textures, and the kaleidoscopic shifts between irony and grief, mockery and pathos represent Shostakovich's late period traits at their most expressive. The six poems deal in turn with subjects that preoccupied Shostakovich in his later song cycles: creativity, past love, unrequited love, the conflict between ruler and poet. There is also a tribute to Anna Akhmatova.

A number of orchestral versions of the Tsvetayeva cycle have appeared in recent years; particularly recommended are those by Michail Jurowski with soprano Nina Fomina (Capriccio 10 778; reviewed in DSCH No. 12) and Neeme Järvi with soprano Elena Zaremba (Deutsche Grammophon 447 085-2; deleted). I still listen with pleasure to the performances of Irina Bogacheva, who in the 1970s was the first to record the work, once in the original piano version and again in its orchestral setting.

Delos' Lyubov Sokolova may not have Bogacheva's limpid, silvery tone, but her darker, huskier mezzo is very much appropriate to the character of these songs. She responds to their constantly shifting attitudes with admirable agility, drawing in the listener with the kind of moment-to-moment involvement that the music demands. Listen to her expressiveness as she reaches the surprising peak of intensity ("their time will come") at the end of the first song, My Verses. Listen to the softness she is capable of in Whence Such Tenderness. Sokolova also has a fine sense of drama, as evidenced in the false pomposity she assumes in Poet and Czar whose final, triple-sforzando ending she takes with gusto, even if a tad forced. She also engages the work's psychological dimension, grasping the dignity and pathos of the final To Anna Akhmatova in full measure, bringing the work to its dramatic, unsettling conclusion.

The remaining three cycles on Delos' "final years" volume are those of the satirical sort, each written for bass voice and each performed here by Fyodor Kuznetsov. They comprise a quirky, colourful collection, indispensable in forming a complete picture of a composer for whom contradiction and the unexpected were more than just an artistic path. The three works demonstrate Shostakovich's taste for the ludicrous in no uncertain terms. Each is in one form or another an exercise in nonsense laced with more than a touch of the grotesque.

The variously translated Preface to the Complete Collection of my Works and Brief Reflection on this Preface has, contrary to Delos' claim, appeared twice previously on CD. Most notable of these is a reissue of the classic Nesterenko/Shenderovich performance. The self-mocking text includes a rote recitation of Shostakovich's honours and awards. The song brings to mind one or two of Musorgsky's satirical songs, in particular the dutifully reciting Seminarist.

Leiferkus brings out more of the light-hearted spontaneity of these satirical settings than does Kuznetsov. In the Preface, Kuznetsov's poker-faced manner is just a bit too sober. His dirge-like intonations of the composer's name to the climactic notes of "D-S-C-H" don't quite have the satirical bite they should. Leiferkus, on the other hand, better projects the put-on puffery that was evidently intended as he proudly struts out the list of Shostakovich's honours and awards.

A pity that this Preface is the leading track on the second Delos album, as Kuznetsov fares better in the Krokodil Romances. The Krokodil Romances (1965), written a year before the Preface, take their text directly from the whimsical letters-to-the-editor page of a single issue of the satirical magazine of the same name. The songs form an experiment in text setting, which, like the Preface, breaks away from the musical and literary conventions that characterised Shostakovich's previous song writing. The first song is almost twice as long as the remaining four, snippets lasting around a minute that are ultimately all too short to make any claims of artistic completeness. The old Melodiya recording with Nesterenko and Shenderovich makes a bit of an aesthetic rescue effort by rearranging the order of the songs so that they follow a more conventional dramatic arc. Either way, the settings do make an amusing impression, however brief. The longest song reaches its peak when the text, describing a punch in the nose, is punctuated with a thunderous tone cluster on the piano.

In the Krokodil Romances Kuznetsov projects a good amount of buoyancy and reactive drama, but still does not match the impromptu, tongue-in-cheek inflections that have the listener smirking right along with Leiferkus in his more personalised interpretation. Listen to the playful way Leiferkus intones the love-struck lines in the fourth song, Irinka and the Shepherd, which he concludes with a hysterical, improvised hoot; or the campy overzealousness he brings to the final song, Exaggerated delight, a verse about the pleasures of freshly harvested bread that is, to the eater's horror, tainted with the odour of kerosene.

For Shostakovich's last song cycle, the penultimate work in his catalogue, he chose the verses of one of Russian literature's more obnoxious blokes, Captain Lebyadkin, from Dostoyevsky's The Possessed. Shostakovich's farewell may more likely lie in his haunting Viola Sonata, but this valedictory vocal work gushes with hysterical abandon. It is also laced with a dark, uneasy madness. Both Captain and composer jointly celebrate the delights of alcohol consumption. The drunken Lebyadkin rambles on in each of the four songs in true saloon fashion. The topics covered are, in turn, improbable courtly pursuits, a disturbingly intrusive cockroach, the pompous ways of the rich, and finally, a rebellion against the Czar with a final swipe against the institutions of the church, marriage, and family. The work has a patently operatic character with its exaggerated drama, spoken asides, and, more fundamentally, since the songs are sung by an evident dramatis persona.

Kuznetsov's theatrical gifts seem tailor-made for the work as he instinctively steps into character with an aplomb missing from his performance of the Preface and Krokodil Romances. He has a jolly good time with the weaving, tipsy arioso and sudden declamatory announcements in The Love of Captain Lebyadkin. Sparks fly in The Cockroach with its interruptive melodramatic aside that prompts the restarting of the song from the top. Kuznetsov makes a superb case for these songs as he seizes the part with gusto and a sense of freedom that rival, and I might even say exceed, the earlier performances of the work by Yevgeny Nesterenko and Alexei Molchanov. Molchanov's lively rendition, incidentally, features the work in its orchestral version as part of a programme of lighter song cycles by Shostakovich. Mention also should be made of a very colourful performance of the Lebyadkin Romances by Fischer-Dieskau with Vladimir Ashkenazy as accompanist (Decca/London 433 319-2; deleted).

Leiferkus' programme also includes the Six Verses of English Poets, one of the most frequently recorded Shostakovich cycles. The work is a charming grab-bag of verses whose diverse moods provide a variegated showcase for the featured bass soloist. Leiferkus excels at projecting the various moods of each song. He is sensitive in the gentle arioso of Burns' Jenny, particularly expressive in the reverential tones of Burns' O, Wert Thou, and duly regal in the mock pomposity of MacPherson's Farewell (the tune of which reappears in the Humour movement of the Thirteenth Symphony). And he gives a reading of the work's emotional core, Shakespeare's Sonnet 66, that is stately and moving.

A word is due the accompanists on each of these albums. Semyon Skigin, the pianist on the Leiferkus CD, came to my attention as a Shostakovich interpreter on the aforementioned Spanish Songbook album featuring mezzo-soprano Olga Borodina. On that disc, Skigin gives the most sparkling accompaniment to Shostakovich's Spanish Songs that I have ever heard. I am delighted to see his name again attached to this repertoire. His distinctively springy, kinetic touch likewise adds character to Leiferkus' programme, both in the lighter songs as well as the songs of more serious content.

Yuri Serov, the accompanist in both Delos volumes, proves himself to be in full command of every aspect of Shostakovich's idiom. Through the serious and the satiric songs, he lends character and edge without being at all intrusive. He offers depth and concentration in the demanding Blok cycle. Listeners will also note the cunning rubati and pregnant pauses in the lighter Krokodil and Lebyadkin romances. His consistently fine performances, combined with those of the other artists, signal the listener that the current Delos project is not just a contractual exercise in repertoire expansion, but a deeply committed artistic mission undertaken by those who are fully steeped in the music.

In sum, these are handsome releases with much, very much to recommend them.

Louis Blois
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DSCH No. 18.
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