First Recordings
Twenty Four Preludes, op. 34 (Nos. 8[a], 14-15[a], 16, 17-19[a], 22[b], 23[c], 24[a]); Three Fantastic Dances, op. 5[a]; The Age of Gold (Polka), op. 22[a]; Piano Trio No. 2 in E minor, op. 67[d]; String Quartet No. 3 in F major, op. 73[e]; A Child's Exercise Book, op. 69[a].
Dmitri Shostakovich (piano)[a-d]; David Oistrakh (violin), Milos Sádlo (cello)[d]; Beethoven Quartet[e].
Symposium 1314. ADD. TT 79:38.
Recorded Prague, 26 May 1947[a,d]; USSR, 1946[b], 1950[c]; 1947[e].

Symposium's boldly simple title keeps the lid on a particularly lively can of worms. Simply put, in many cases, these are not first recordings. But while "premiere" is a useful marketing tag (though no guarantee of quality), the fact that this isn't what it says on the tin doesn't detract from the interest of recordings by Shostakovich and/or regular collaborators predating his debilitating illness.

Confusion still surrounds the early recordings but even so, the composer-performer history of these pieces is telling. The opus 34 Preludes are the most confusing, with recordings through the 1940s and 1950s. If the 1947 sessions were the beginning of a cycle, it came to nothing and some of these numbers and others recorded in 1950 only appeared posthumously. Shostakovich concentrated on the ten pieces presented by Symposium. No single recording included them all, so this disc must draw on more than one session, apparently the 1947 set plus No. 22 from 1946 and No. 23 from 1950. The recording date of No. 16 is unclear.

Though not all are the promised premieres (Harriet Cohen gave us No. 14 in 1942, and Stokowski recorded his transcription in 1935 and 1940), these early recordings by Shostakovich are to be treasured (how sad that he didn't enter the studio earlier and include his other repertoire). The craziness of No. 8 contrasts wonderfully with No. 14, the most substantial of the set, though the snapped climactic rhythm is slightly odd. With only a minute or two to make a mark, the need for vivid characterisation sometimes overrides technical perfection: No. 16 seems a tad hurried and the left hand work is sometimes blurred, but No. 17 has a wonderfully wistful and slightly shabby quality. Then, after a couple of slow, withdrawn pieces the last prelude breaks in clownishly, but even then can't keep it up and the middle section darkens. Background hiss continues between the pieces, implying that they all appeared on one side of a disc, which of course they never did, so at least some of it must have been provided by Symposium, presumably to unify the set.

After recording the Three Fantastic Dances in Prague in 1947, Shostakovich returned to them in 1958. Eileen Joyce beat him to the tape (1938) as did Heifetz with Harry Glickman's arrangement (1945). The 1958 recording does not show the composer at his technical best so, though an inferior recording, this taping is preferable.

Although the Polka from the Age of Gold is one of Shostakovich's most popular encores, he only recorded it once in 1947. Yet again the composer was left at the gate though he could at least claim the first solo piano recording. He does not strive to make it comical, showing his faith in the music without the addition of "interpretation".

Shostakovich's first recording of the Second Piano Trio was with the Beethoven Quartet's Dmitri Tsyganov and Sergei Shirinsky in 1946. But this isn't it. Here, the following year in Prague, he is partnered by Oistrakh and Sádlo. Both recordings have appeared on CD already (Dante, Revelation, Doremi and Eclectra). As has been noted in DSCH Journal reviews, the 1947 performance isn't flawless: the opening harmonics are earthbound and marred by fingering noises, and though the entries of Oistrakh and the composer improve matters, it is occasionally a little garbled thereafter. Nevertheless it's a compelling reading and the transfer is acceptable.

When it comes to premieres, the Beethoven Quartet managed the double with the Third String Quartet: in the concert hall (in December 1946) and the studio (the following year), perhaps reflecting their status as dedicatees. Sadly, the vagaries of the catalogue mean that their complete cycle is not as well known as some other ensembles', though it should be a permanent fixture.

The Third, one of the most substantial quartets, is the last in a series of five-movement pieces. The Eighth Symphony of three years earlier is a clear counterpart and orchestrations of the quartet by Barshai (Deutsche Grammophon 435 386-2; deleted; due to be reissued in March 2005 on DG 477 544-2) and Turich (Beaux BEA 2022; reviewed in DSCH No. 17) see it as trying to break the bonds of its medium. The movement titles imply that it had been cooking for a while and though subsequent suppression casts a pall over their validity, they have some value, while not constituting an explicit programme.

Calm unawareness of the future cataclysm certainly doesn't apply to the Beethovens' first movement, which starts as a hesitant, would-be insouciant stroll through open fields before taking us almost unnoticed into a denser-forested fugal development and we begin to sense that this piece is altogether more serious than we might have thought. The bolder-striding openings of the Fitzwilliams (Decca 289455776-2), the Shostakoviches (Regis RRC5001) and the early Borodins (Chandos CHAN 10064(4); reviewed in DSCH No. 19) - all faster than the Beethovens' epic 7:42 - sound cursory in comparison.

The Fitzwilliams smoothly join each note of the rising figure that opens the second movement (Rumblings of unrest and anticipation) but the Beethovens carefully separate them. This gives it an implacability and violence, hinting at the toccata of the Eighth Symphony, a feeling that is increased by the little-changing tempo, though at a couple of moments there are huge ritardandi.

The forces of war unleashed originally headed the third movement and is entirely appropriate to the slashing music, but at 5:09 the Beethovens give it one of the slowest performances - the Shostakovich Quartet come in at a cracking 3:53, making the violent sections more powerful without losing the Beethovens' weight and bringing the movement to a shockingly peremptory end. Against that, the gentler passages work better in the older group's less hard-driven hands.

Homage to the Dead might be expected to be the finale, though it is the fourth, passacaglia, movement, with alternating "choral" and solo episodes, which test all the members of the group. For the Beethovens this is the heart of the work and each member invests their individual "songs" with intense feeling before the finale (The Eternal Question - Why? And for What?), in which they wrap each other's music in tenderly caressing counterpoint.

Did Shostakovich really believe, as he wrote on the score of the Eighth Symphony, that "all that is beautiful will triumph", a Dostoevskian view of beauty as a saviour of the world? Certainly the quartet ends with the same desperate but ambiguous beauty that had made the symphony such a downer, and makes the two works such obvious candidates for exercises in compare-and-contrast. Yet the quartet was well received, an odd fate for a work that thumbs its nose at so much of what was expected at the time. The Beethovens brilliantly reflect that constantly shifting position, making this one of the central interpretations of this work.

Finally, what Symposium calls A Collection of Children's Pieces is A Child's Exercise Book. This is another genuine premiere recording and the composer's only taping. It's a fun few minutes, made all the more so by Shostakovich yapping out the titles before embarking on his super-objective readings (though he omits the last thirteen bars of No. 7, Birthday). It's a great way to come down after the rigours of the Trio and the Quartet. Nevertheless, the overall layout of the disc is unsatisfactory: the grouping of the Fantastic Dances, the Polka and the Preludes makes them seem like a single set, while the two big, serious pieces are side by side, with A Child's Exercise Book bringing up the rear. Alternating larger and smaller pieces would have been better.

The sleeve-notes comprise a quick introduction to the composer, with most of the disc's contents going unmentioned. Neither the recordings' provenances nor the individual track timings are given.

The treble suffers under the "Authentic Transfer Process" and Doremi balanced signal and noise better. The significant improvement is in the quartet where the old Consonance release was extremely harsh: this is far more listenable. If only it could now be joined by the other fourteen! All of these recordings have appeared on CD before, though unaccountably they flit through the catalogue and, despite Revelation's attempt, we still lack a definitive collection of the composer's recordings in acceptable transfers, with comprehensive annotation. A centenary project for 2006?

John Riley
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