Decoding Shosktakovich: Violin Concerto No. 1, Symphony No. 8

Concert
Boston Symphony Orchestra
Andris Nelsons conducting
Symphony Hall, Boston
May 3, 2025

As the culmination of its Decoding Shostakovich series in commemoration of the fiftieth anniversary of Dmitri Shostakovich’s death, the BSO presented a stunning combination of interpretations in its all-Shostakovich program featuring the Violin Concerto No. 1 and the Symphony No. 8. Latvian violinist Baiba Skride carried in the honors with a magnanimous and self-assured rendition of the concerto, while maestro Andris Nelsons – also a Latvian by birth – held magnificent sway in the symphonic second half, leading the BSO to great eloquence and power, capped by a lingering, silence that possessed the hall for a full minute. It was a moving, mesmerizing concert all around, offering a capstone to a highly deserved tribute to one of the great compositional talents of the twentieth century.

Shostakovich, clearly a genius and possessing a spirit of magnanimous proportions, did most of his creative work during the dark ages of Stalin and paid dearly for it. He was accused by the regime of writing decadent music and had, for a time, to scramble around to find composing jobs which, to the overlords, seemed more benign.

Though both of the pieces featured in this program exhibit the full range of Shostakovich’s poetic disposition, the strikingness of the outset of the violin concerto is its utter reflectiveness. Expansive and durable, it proceeds with enormous care for quite a long time until it chooses to reach into other tonal realms well-known to Shostakovich aficionados – the sounds of industrial intensity and domination, and the sounds of satire and revelry. But, one might say that what embraces those portrayals in much of Shostakovich’s music is a penetrating reflectiveness, a form of religious introspection that frames and couches the more pictorial modalities.

A composer of incredible range, one is surprised to encounter elsewhere Shostakovich’s jazz compositions which do not have a direct influence on the pieces in this performance but which, in the embrace of Shostakovich’s universe, exemplify the wide variety of music influences upon him, and which he took to heart and mastered.

Indeed it is the freedom of jazz that, to a large extent, gives Shostakovich the daring to constantly break the mold, as he does in both of these landmark compositions. It is perhaps the daring to pursue the endless expanse of reflectiveness that characterizes much of the violin concerto and the daringness of an endless form of dialogue that characterizes the symphony. Both pieces, at times, extend the boundaries of one’s attention, asking for considerably more than an accessible entertainment, or even a more conventionally structured symphonic form, would demand. Both carry along the listener with a statement of faith – that the journey is worth it, that the challenges of life, and of society, must be faced with an energetic spirit and a form of optimism that embraces all of the tragedies, and which one must confront with considerable patience. In the end, these works are lessons in how the reflective spirit can and must infuse the multiple corners, and often challenges, of life with a quiet and resolute focus.

Latvian violin star Baiba Skride performed the concerto with enormous composure and ease, lending a sense of the possible and graceful to this technically and musically challenging work. There are numerous places in the work at which one marvels at Skride’s mastery of navigating the sometimes seemingly unnavigable musical wilderness of the piece, and, as well, her facility at managing with equivalent apparent relaxation the intricate double-stop passages which infuse the work at various turns. Andris Nelsons led the BSO with mastery and composure, drawing out Shostakovich’s multiple dimensions with a flexible and inspired touch.

Andris Nelsons was right at home in the driver’s seat of Symphony No. 8, a vast work with endlessly varied geographies and modalities. Wonderful solos throughout showed the abundant talents of the BSO; memorable among these were those by the concertmaster Nathan Cole and principal cellist Braise Déjardin. The ending to the symphony was not only inspired but transfixing, held like a stunned breath, capturing the hall of thousands with an unforgettable extended moment. See the notes below for some sense of the endless landscape of this vast and eloquent work.

Particular notes on the performance

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Violin Concerto No. 1 in A minor, Opus 77

Baiba Skride, violin

Nocturne. Moderato
Haunting, creeping intro by cellos, followed by searching miasmic line by solo violin. The violas join in with punctuation. The solo violin reaches for an eloquent reflection on darkness. Paced meandering by solo violin with building intensity. More power from the bassos adds gravitas to the mix. The solo violin rises above, but not too high, an eloquent voice but one of the masses. A touch of major key presses the narrative forward. Searching proceeds on all fronts. It slows and quits. Skride is very self-possessed and relaxed! She works from way up high downwards, hand over hand, to the level of musing. A movement like stepping through a jungle, then a ray of light with strokes from the harp. The winds hold court as the solo violin weaves in an upwards spiral. Now in double stops, it reaches for its statement and the winds and bassos urge it along. With ease, Skride manages the double stops which emerge into a glen of clear tonal statements. pulling the notes tenderly and judiciously. The harp sweeps a commentary but the solo violin is resolute and determined. Long chords by the strings lay a foundation for the solo violin to muse. A reverberant bassoon calls out from the lagoon while the solo violin reaches high and the harp intones.

Scherzo. Allegro
A sharp rebuke with the violin taunting the bass clarinet. The solo violin is running in circles, hypnotic. With slides up to the stratosphere, Skride pulls it off with finesse. The solo violin saws out time while the orchestra works. The blog is open and the solo violin tries to dance at its workstation. It comes to the top and now the ride is going off and running, harness dancing, workers kicking up their boots. It’s a kazatzky on drugs, with now some triplets thrown in – they’re in durable jig mode. The cellos bounce while the solo violin does somersaults. But Skride is cool as a pickled cucumber, pulling her solo declaration with nary a wink. They dance for a moment, then the factory schedule intercedes and ends it all with a bang.

Passacaglia. Andante
Drums, cellos, brasses – heavy-ass commentary: this is how we do things here! The brass govern with brass knuckles and large browed hats. Then a wind symphony, a churchlike chorale – but mystery opens and Skride’s violin sings a song of lucubration and sweetly ethereal compensations. Durability prevails – the horn calls out. Underlying the machinery, a sweetness and a yearning for nature. The solo violin sings of gentle leadership, reaching for the sky. It hopes for an emanation arching upwards in style – nothing fancy here, but graceful and orderly. A sweet lyricism from the solo violin over the low winds of deep reflection. Skride touches softly and judiciously, boiling down to almost nothing. More double stops accentuate the yearning. How thoughtful and non showy, how carefully Shostakovich creates the durable mood, supported beautifully by Skride and Nelsons. A cadenza – light, airy, poignant. Skride climbs delicately over fragile ice, cracking none of it, inching forward. Shostakovich builds a story with light tonal bricks which come together magically. A more traditional buildup is followed by a daring interplay between the hesitant and the bold. It gets wilder as the cadenza progress, taking the form of a real dreamscape, with Skride pulling us forward without breaking a sweat. She turns over the engine, feeding, without a gap, right into –

Burlesque. Allegro con brio
A gypsy dance. She’s going ferociously now and the orchestra bounces along. She’s racing the horses to the clearing and keeping up with them, declaring her freedom in the open spaces. She’s running fast now, like a comfortable marathoner at the head of the pack. The brass and winds crack the whip and prod her along, but it’s she who’s driving the train train – or maybe a troika. And so she spreads her wings and sets a new tone – they hasten to catch up but she outruns them, but they all arrive, happily and furiously, exuberantly, together.

Symphony No. 8 in C minor, Opus 66

Adagio
A forceful statement in the cellos answered forthrightly by the second violins. The violas enter and a pacing settles in. The first violins suggest a prayer in a hesitantly small voice but the durable cellos enlarge. The violas add texture and dimension to the request. A quiet prayer becomes a plea. They reach up, with determination, and a single brass voice peaks to declamation. The first violins proceed with more confidence and are in full dialogue with the cellos and violas. Ah, freedom of speech! A proceeding reflection by the brass and winds lead to sharp declarations. The second violins and violas wonder what’s going on. The first violins sing a forgotten desert theme: the open plains spread before us. The first violins ask the same question again as they stand before the almost-desert. Now the first violins weave a message that the cellos follow, rising together in voice and pronouncement. The cellos sing alone eloquently – they are resolute. The violins again seek a prayer, cautiously but intently. The cellos answer with a wan smile, a kind embrace. The first violins still wonder, but they remain close. The violin searching becomes more pronounced with gentle but insistent prodding by the cellos. Voices rise indignantly, all around – they are wondering what is going on! The cellos raise the ante – wondering more about the nature of the good life. The brass plod along, carrying the question like a daily burden. The violins attempt an answer. A snare drum makes a pronouncement, a fierce culmination. Now they are all fully at work, charged with their labors and with a moral mission. The urgency of life is upon us: the violins are all at it, prodded by the brass. Is it too much? Wait and see! Now the race and the build up. The violins are the rabbits and the brasses call the time and the timetable. Where is it all going? To the giants’ factory, an Oz of forgetting and of overwhelmingness. The violins declare their side of the peace treaty, but there is, with the drums, an outburst and final conclusive battle with charge after charge carrying the full force of attack. And then, in the wake, the lone English horn questions everything. The strings ramble while the horn yearns. Will it go anywhere? Will they ever learn? In quiet reflection and in yearning the question repeats itself and the march forward continues, held by the cellos propping up the violins. The cellos ruminate – half major, half minor – in a quizzical modality. The violins follow close behind, dutifully obedient. It all settles into the crater of reflection and oblivion, until the brass fanfare calls forth a reminder to not wallow, to resist inertia. The quiet prayer resumes, bravely moving forward with resolve. A clarion call settles all.

Allegretto
Nelsons springs into action for the dancing of a huge bear. It’s bouncing, turning, laughing, roaring. But its weight is constantly upon us. It is graceful indeed and makes the best moves, but certainly not built like a ballet dancer. A lovely sonority introduces the graceful choreographer who enters to survey the situation, with a daring piccolo and some bouncing geese brought along by the winds. The circus leader calls out the whole dancing chorus – koalas, squirrels, chimpanzees, monkeys, and snakes, rising up to catch the wave. They all sway and bounce. Are those aerialists above? And who is sliding down that pole? We though we were coming to a prayer meeting and here we are at a circus. How fun! All of those solemnly dressed devotees in black, look at them kick up their heels! And then, suddenly – are they going to sleep or are they just taking a bow? Bang!

Allegro non troppo – Largo – Allegretto
The violas are on speed – I’m sure of it! But there are the painful jabs of the cellos and the basses and the determined calisthenics of the first violins. Can’t we take a rest? This is too much, driving us all crazy – but isn’t that the point? That’s why you’ve put me here, isn’t it? Or, wait! This isn’t a prison, this is a circus – I knew it! You can tell because everything is off the beat. And that great recitation by the first violins is actually a a great satire, isn’t it? Aren’t those cellos funny bouncing along like that? And yes, there is the rat-a-tat of the great drums and now all of them including the sometimes oh so serious violins have jumped into the fun. Now the circus is alive. The violas put forward their silly questions and again the cellos and basses ridicule them. And then the violas say but, but and the violins declare Hold yer horses. Now they’re all screaming and the snare drum boots them up. The cellos come in to run interference – it’s a big job but they’re up to it. Even the violins have calmed down. The cellos issue a quiet rebuke and the second violins obey while the rest sit there in silence. A quiet dialogue ensues between the second violins, the violas and the cellos – it’s about time! Durable, soft, connected, some of the first violins enter the prayer, and an ethereal aura appears out of the mist. A soft horn approaches as all the strings now move together. Where do we go? What do we do? How are we to do it? When did we become responsible? The piccolo touches a corner of the conscience. Some fluttering of the flutes calls forth the numinous mist. We are now at home in the stratosphere, or is it on the heath? A quiet emergence into the undergrowth from where the solemn questions re-emerge. Do we have time for quiet reflection? And how long might we have it? And to what will it bring us? A simple song appealing to life on earth, simply, straightforwardly – asking, asking, probing, continuing, opening gradually. And from that an English horn a a simple tone. A lyrical ballet, led by the violins. For, after all, we are here to dance. The cautionary cellos smile a bit as the frolicsome birds – the flutes – dance and sport around. The cellos master themselves and sing soprano,, not sure if they are major or minor, but does it matter? Not to them certainly – they don’t care, and the winds echo their callousness. That wry oboe – what arc-ed light it calls forth. The violins brood wile the cellos loop around. The know we’re all in this together. The cellos play circus music and the violins mock them – ha! ha! ha!. The cellos settle down and pass their insistent energy to the violas. Can’t we rest already? A very nice thought, but this circus seemingly will never end. A fugue of winds adds to the drama.

Or, have I simply been asleep in the woods? Can’t I just wake up? The bass drum and the brass fanfare seem to think so. The winds and brass climb skyward – that blue sky above so ferociously direct! It comes along with me, and it is clear that we are not of out of the woods yet. As agitated as it all seems, it urges me to rouse myself! The ferocity of the brass fanfare and the applauding strings, and, as we look to the end, the great sky looms and the castle appears. A little chipmunk dances to the bass clarinet. The double stops sing of freedom and call out to the people to let them know, in high notes, what civilization is. The English horn beckons a truce and the celesta celebrates. Who knows where this will go? We have been walking for hours. Perhaps we will reach our campsite and finally get some food and a little rest. Beautiful calls emerge and we finally arrive for the ultimate incantation and we put down our packs and come into the light of day. A moment like no other, held to the end of breath. The audience waits for a full minute, beautifully and magically stunned. Bravo, Andris! Bravo. BSO!

– BADMan (aka Charles Munitz)