Profound theme, deathless sounds
Mortality is focus of BSO program
By Tim Smith
November 30, 2002
The Baltimore Sun
Life and death. Mostly death. That, in a superficial nutshell, is the theme of this weekend's Baltimore Symphony Orchestra all-Russian program, led with typical incisiveness by Yuri Temirkanov. It's not easy listening, but it makes for a very involving experience. To begin, there's the deceptively tranquil Prelude to Mussorgsky's Khovantschina, a historically-based opera steeped in politicalassassination, persecution and mass suicide by fire. The same composer'sSongs and Dances of Death follow, providing a chilling reminder of how theinnocent, the frail, the vulnerable and the violent are stalked bymortality. And then there's Shostakovich's Symphony No. 10, steeped in images ofanxiety and brutality. It ends on an upbeat note, yet the effect is like anervous laugh in the face of death. Confusing that finale with unbridledoptimism is like confusing reality TV with reality. Last night, the BSO got off to a rocky start in the Mussorgsky Prelude. Thehorns lost their footing; some unison passages in the strings were off-center. Still, the depiction of dawn over Moscow, and the sudden arrivalof clouds midway through, came across under Temirkanov's unfussy guidance. Technical matters quickly improved, enabling the ensemble to provide mostly disciplined and beautifully detailed support for baritone DmitriHvorostovsky's revelatory performance. In his Victorian-style coat and longsilver hair, the singer could not help but suggest an undertaker of yore;with his lush tone and gripping delivery, he became every bit the menacingyet seductive specter conjured up in these chilling songs. Hvorostovsky artfully caressed the recurring "Hush-a-bye, hush, hush" linein the first song, in which death lulls a sickly child into the hereafter;he achieved maximum tension and authority in the final cry of "You are mine"in "Serenade," as death crushes the breath out of a lovesick maiden. In "TheField Marshal," the baritone's singing had an eerily visceral impact. Temirkanov was every bit the equal partner, ensuring that the finer pointsof the orchestration emerged tellingly. That orchestration was by Shostakovich, which made for an extra link betweenthe songs and his Tenth Symphony. In this score, Shostakovich seems to have poured out all of the pent-upemotions of a Soviet artist who had a conscience and a free soul, a man wellacquainted with fear and irony. It's easy to believe that Stalin's shadowlies across the pages, and that his ghost is nearly, but not quite,exorcised in the finale. (The dictator died a few months before the piecewas written.) Whatever extra-musical associations may be at work, the symphony representsShostakovich at his most inspired. He creates a vast drama in the openingmovement out of just a handful of ideas; produces a riot of energy andstriking colors in the second; infuses the third and fourth with a defiantclaim of ownership (a four-note theme that, in German musical notation,spells out his initials). Temirkanov had the score unfolding in thoroughly cohesive, gripping fashion.The orchestra seemed quite energized; there was some sizzling music-makingon that stage, section by section and individually (horn soloist DavidBakkegard was but an example of the latter). In the wake of this week's news from Africa, the composer's response to thedeath and horror of the Stalin years sounded somehow more urgent andprofound than ever.