Shostakovich and Gergiev III (and ode to Andy Logan)

So, the penultimate concert has arrived with symphonies 12 and 10.

I have to confess I've been looking forward to this one less for the music and more for a chance to see Andy Logan the night before he jets off to Taiwan with I-ching to get hitched. But I think he got a good send off from Gergiev and the Mariinsky - he certainly seemed to enjoy it (I now await a comment saying that I imagined this and he found it the most tedious couple of hours of his existence...)

Funnily enough, the Twelfth made more of an impact on us than I anticipated, though it remains, with the best will in the world, a bit fair-to-middling. There are many reasons for this, and to be fair, it's never going to come across as earth-shattering when paired with the magnificent Tenth, or following on the heels of a staggering performance of its more than worthy successor the Thirteenth. It's not that the symphonic ideas or ideals are flawed, but Andy hit the nail on the head when he said "it's good, but there's something missing"...

Thinking about it, I think the charge levelled at both this and the Eleventh - that they owe more to Shostakovich's film scores than symphonies - rings more true with the case of the 12th. The emphatic block scoring seems far more suited to accompanying some action on screen or stage rather than being the focus of our undivided attention., and I think that sums up the problem. It needs something else to make it feel complete. I got the same feeling I got when I saw Howard Shore conduct the "Lord of the Rings" soundtrack music - great stuff, but not enough on its own to make it feel substantial. A bit like chocolate I suppose.

The Tenth on the other hand kept us riveted from start to finish. I had thought that perhaps my mind would wander with this, as it does on occasion with pieces I've performed (and consequently rehearsed to death). I remember the surprise when we first got the parts with the University of Durham Symphony Orchestra that, for such an outwardly forceful piece, there was surprisingly little of substance for the trombones. However, this does not make you complacent - "little but often" is often the phrase that you dread as a symphonic trombonist (well, that and the words "Sibelius' Fifth"). It's far easier to do something like Brahms 1 or 4 when you sit on your arse for half an hour or so not playing - for one thing you can skip most rehearsals, and nod off during full rehearsals (as long as you have a good alarm). But we had to rehearse the Tenth a lot, and we had to be at every single rehearsal which is frankly unfair.

Yet familiarity does not breed contempt in respect of this piece, and particularly not in respect of this performance, which was played with utter commitment and passion. I was captivated for the whole performance, and able to admire the phenomenal playing of some people such as the first bassoonist (incredible), the timpanist (beyond belief - such complete musicality) and the tuba player (the first exceptional player I've seen for a while - able to play a perfectly centred, perfectly supported note and sustain it with equal quality for several bars).

Andy felt the same - seeing his enthusiasm after the concert about the piece reminded me of the enthusiasm he used to show after a particularly good gig. Few people have such a fantastic appreciation of music as Andy when he gets going. And it's an infectious enthusiasm - I blame him entirely for some of the more silly things I did when playing in Cactus Lounge, mostly involving injuring myself at some point. And the other thing was seeing this enthusiasm carried over to his forthcoming wedding. It was great to see him like this and it cheered me up no end.

So in conclusion - Andy, here's to you!