About this Artist

• Biography

Editorial Reviews

Was Dmitri Shostakovich a loyal Stalinist or an anti-totalitarian dissident? The debate rages on, although both sides could use the composer's Seventh Symphony as ammunition. Named after Leningrad, and written while that city was under siege by the Germans in World War II, the symphony can be interpreted either as a loyal Russian's depiction of the Nazi menace or as a protest against all forms of tyranny, including that endured in the USSR under Stalin. In either case, it's one of the classics of 20th-century musical propaganda. It brought Shostakovich fame in the West as a courageous champion of his nation, and it would merit our attention strictly on historical grounds, even aside from any intrinsic musical value. Yet it remains an effective and emotionally affecting work, as Kurt Masur's live recording with the New York Philharmonic demonstrates. The famous march sequence of the first movement, in which a banal theme is repeated as it grows from a faint murmur to a deafening assault, is played here with terrifying and unrelenting force. This music has its share of vulgar and obvious effects, and the finale's conclusion is undeniably bombastic, but the symphony's heart is in its middle movements. The Mahlerian lyricism of the scherzo is eloquently nostalgic, and the austere chorales of the adagio are offset by gentle wind solos; Masur shapes both movements with heartfelt compassion. Shostakovich's longest symphony is not his finest, but stirring performances like this one, or Leonard Bernstein's live recording with the Chicago Symphony, remind us why it was, for a time, his most popular. Scott Paulin, Barnes & Noble

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