Symphony No. 6 in B Minor, Op. 54
Symphony No. 9 in E-Flat Major, Op. 70

The Symphony No. 6 in B Minor, Op. 54 by Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975) holds a special place in my heart. One of the very first vinyl records I owned when I was a kid was a 1958 recording by Sir Adrian Boult and the London Philharmonic on Everest Records. That recording was actually my initial encounter with the music of Shostakovich, which to this day remains one of my favorite composers. I guess you could say that I was a nerd in the sense that instead of listening to The Beatles when I was eight years old, I was listening to symphonies by Mahler and Shostakovich. Although I more than made up for that during my teenage years by taking a deep dive into Progressive Rock music. But I digress ....

With its doleful, broad and evocative opening theme so typical of the composer, I've always thought that newcomers interested in discovering the music of Shostakovich should start with the Symphony No. 6, since it bears all of his idiosyncrasies, from deeply expressive and enigmatic moments to bursting-at-the-seams circus like passages. Conductor Steven Lloyd-Gonzalez, who holds a Master's Degree in Conducting from the Royal Birmingham Conservatoire, well defines the all-pervasive, mysterious undercurrent of the first movement. Besides the well-attained, powerful, bone-chilling and goosebump inducing climax around the 6:00 mark during which each and every member of the BBC National Orchestra of Wales more than earn their pay cheque, the twenty minute movement is generally under cover of darkness. Quiet and tentative, two woodwind instruments seem to be holding a private conversation but can't seem to shake the feeling that they are being eavesdropped by an entity lurking in the shadows. A mood very well projected in this recording. Far removed from that is the frenetic activity of the Allegro movement that follows, with every player on the edge of their seats. Kudos in particular to Rebecca Larsen, the piccolo player. And during the circus-like atmosphere of the third and final movement, it's time for the percussion players to enjoy themselves and let their hair down. From tambourine to heavy drums, especially near the end, you can't help but feel that each and every player is relishing their manic moment, and Lloyd-Gonzalez joins them in the elation.

Composed in 1945, following the two massive, brutally honest Seventh "Leningrad" and Eight symphonies, the Symphony No. 9 in E-Flat Major, Op. 70 was anticipated to be the third part of a War Trilogy, and expected to capture and project the spirit of Soviet victory. At least in keeping with the historical significance of a "Ninth Symphony", the Soviet authorities were certainly expecting something on a grand and exuberant scale. What they heard instead, was Dmitri Shostakovich subvertively flipping them the proverbial finger. It's a rather short five-movement work loaded with sarcasm and irony, and a final movement that contrary to Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" sentiment of bliss, sounds more like an overture Rossini would have written for a comic opera. Nonetheless, the two inner slower movements, which well project Shostakovich's sense of post-war desolation, are finely captured in this performance.

If you're a Shostakovich veteran like I am, don't hesitate including this new recording in your collection. If you're new to Shostakovich, jump right in. It's as good a place to start as any.