Gergiev, Shostakovich and Brahms

I'm getting rather excited at the moment as tomorrow night, I shall be taking another step towards the completion of one of my ongoing musical quests. Being the Shotakovich nut that I am, when I found out that Valery Gergiev was conducting a cycle of the complete Shostakovich symphonies beginning back in 2005, I knew I would have to attend them all.

It's not that Gergiev is any more qualified a conductor of Shostakovich than others - indeed, he never actually met the great man, thus placing him, in "authenticity" terms, behind Shostakovich's son, Maxim, and his good friend Mstislav Rostropovich. But Gergiev is one of the most exciting conductors around today, a scholar of Shostakovich, and someone who brings the utmost dedication and respect to these scores.

Beginning in September of last year then, Gergiev has conducted all the symphonies with a variety of orchestras, and I have attended each one. Not every concert has been a great success: sometimes I felt the interpretation was a little awry - the Eighth unsurprisingly failed to match Rostropovich's performance with the same forces (which remains one of the finest concerts I have ever attended). At other times, outside forces conspired to alter the effect of the concert: a magical performance of the disturbing Fourteenth was ruined by someone in the audience, who chose to disrupt what should have been the shattered silence after the devastating finalé in an attempt to show he knew the piece, by shouting "Bravo" the second the last semiquaver finished. The enthusiasm was appreciated, but given the subject matter, and the emotion conveyed, it was a little bit of a rude awakening from our spellbound state. On the other hand, some performances have been incredible: I doubt I shall see as good a performance of the Fourth Symphony again. However, all the concerts have stuck in my mind as unique and thoroughly enjoyable experiences, significant events in my concert-going life.

However, Wednesday and Thursday this week will be the highspots of the whole cycle for me. Both are with the Vienna Philharmonic, one of Europe's oldest and most traditional ensembles. Unsurprisingly, given the "rules" that still continue to dictate that orchestra's programmes, the symphonies being played are the two most "traditional" in style. Wednesday will see Shostakovich's Fifth, while Thursday is the Ninth. While the Fifth is a special piece for me, being only the second-ever complete symphony I performed in, and sparking my love of Shostakovich (thanks in no small part to our superb conductor, Malcolm Doley), and the Ninth is a joy to hear, it is a non-Shostakovich item I am most looking forward to.

Because, you see, the second-half of Thursday's concert is going to be Brahm's Fourth Symphony. This, for me, is a piece of music with such massive importance in my life, that for a long while, I could not actually bring myself to listen to it, such was the emotional effect it had on me. It was the first symphony I ever played in, with the Lancashire Students Symphony Orchestra. Furthermore, it was the first complete symphony I ever heard, and the first piece of Classical music I ever owned on CD - indeed, one of the first CDs I ever owned. It was in a complete set of Brahms' symphonies bought for me by my parents, something that is still on heavy rotation to this day, and a permanent fixture on my MP3 player. It helped spark my love of the whole sphere of Classical music. I read the liner notes of the CD, and wanted to know more, so I raided my parents' book collection for articles on the work and biographies of the Brahms (and there were a few given that this was one of the set works my Mum had taught at school). I found that the technical information made sense, the detail all added up in my head, and I wanted to see, read and hear more.

But it wasn't just for this reason that the symphony had such an effect. While on tour playing this piece, I got together with my first girlfriend. I had my first kiss after finishing a performance. I went on my first dates after rehearsals of this piece. This helped me realise that, despite my long-held beliefs, I was not a freak destined to be lonely for ever, but actually I quite enjoyed the company of people. I discovered the joys of being a member of an orchestral brass section, and all that entails. I remember sitting with Tamsin and other friends of mine from the string section while they pored over the huge books that comprised their parts for the symphony, and being roundly (but good-naturedly) mocked for the fact the Trombone part in its entireity consisted of two sparsely-written sides of A4 paper. Happy times.

But above all, I played this symphony at what was, and almost certainly shall remain, the best and most prestigious concert I have ever participated in - La Madélaine in Paris, to a crowd of over 2000 people. I remember the pride I felt as we played the trombone chorale in the fourth movement, along with the ethereal string accompaniment the only sound in that huge building. I remember looking out and seeing my parents in the audience, of seeing Tamsin in the strings, of the conductor smiling for the first time in what seemed like an age, and thinking that this was a special moment in my life. Looking back on this now, with a distance of over ten years, it sometimes seems as if it was another world, that it was not me who did this. But then I find old photos and realise that yes, I may have had stupid long hair and a perpetual teenage scowl, but it was me.

And perhaps this explains why, in a cycle of Shostakovich concerts, the piece I am most looking forward to is by someone completely different. It is a piece I know inside out, better than I know any play, any book, any piece of art, and soemthign that brings endless pleasure every time I hear it.

I can't wait.