Shostakovich Piano Concerto No. 1 in C Minor, Op. 35

Piano Concerto No. 1 in C Minor, Op. 35

Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975)

As a teenager studying at the Leningrad Conservatory Dmitri Shostakovich showed distinction both as a composer and pianist. A prize-winner in the International Chopin Piano Contest in Warsaw in 1927, he already had won international celebrity for his brilliant First Symphony, written at the age of nineteen. His activity as a pianist was soon overshadowed by his composing, although he made public appearances playing his own works well into his middle years. There were to be a number of important keyboard compositions, most of which appeared before 1951. among them a pair of piano sonatas, a set of 24 Preludes, a fine Piano Quintet, and a monumental set of 24 Preludes and Fugues modeled upon Bach’s “Well-Tempered Clavier.” And there were a pair of piano concerti (1933, 1957), as well as a Concertino for 2 Pianos (1953).

The First Piano Concerto, more correctly “Concerto for Piano, Trumpet and Strings, ” is the work of a spirited, innovative young man of 27, a work characteristic of the music Shostakovich composed before his career was temporarily brought to a halt early in 1936. Following the success of the First Symphony, there came a pair of symphonies written to extol the glories of the Soviet state and to commemorate the 1917 Revolution. Although filled with inspired impudence and great imagination, these pleased nobody, and for a while it seemed that perhaps his genius would be best suited for ballet and opera. A number of important works for the musical stage appeared in the late 1920s and early 30s, including a pair of operas, most notably the stunning and provocative Lady MacBeth of Mtzensk. Written at the age of 26, this work took the musical world by storm, being performed all over the USSR, Western Europe and in America. Then Josef Stalin attended a performance, and (incredibly for such a despot) was offended by its frank erotic elements. After two years of acclaim the opera was suddenly attacked in a vicious article in Pravda, possibly written by Stalin himself. Lady MacBeth disappeared overnight, never again to be heard anywhere until the 1960s. For several years the terrified composer kept a suitcase packed with socks, underwear and toothbrush by the door of his apartment in case of a knock in the middle of the night. That never happened, but the near-catastrophe left a deep imprint upon the life and musical development of Dmitri Shostakovich. Never again would the witty, mischievous energy of the youthful composer be so freely expressed. The ghastly period of Stalinist oppression and the subsequent horror of World War II would overshadow most of the music written after 1936---admittedly much of it music of greatness and spiritual depth.

Although the First Piano Concerto has it darker, more serious aspect, “cheeky” is perhaps the descriptive term which most comes to mind: the work of a quirky, youthful musical imagination. It is laid out in four movements (the third little more than a brief interlude), the trumpet often acting as a co-equal soloist alongside the piano, the orchestra made up of strings only. Opening with a call to attention figure in piano and trumpet, the first movement is underway with a plaintive first subject in the piano, immediately taken over by the orchestra, with a skittering counterpoint in the second violins. The piano re-enters, pressing on to introduce a second subject in the left-hand alone: a unadorned rather Classical tune heard against scherzando strings. The trumpet, silent since the very start of the piece, makes a jaunty entry, repeating the second subject melody. Jumping into a new key for the development, a new melody is heard in the piano, extended and teased for a while, building up to a climax, only to sink down to begin the recapitulation in the strings. Quite soon the piano returns with the second subject, now in the unlikely key of B Major. Settling down in a moment of rippling triplets in the piano, the celli and violas soar into their upper register, then dip down to usher in a short coda, safely home in C minor, returning to the very first music played by the piano, now joined by the trumpet in sustained low tones.

It is sometimes claimed that this composition rejects the Romantic tradition of the popular Russian piano concertos of the past. However there is a wistful Tchaikovskian cast to the Lento slow movement. Set in E Minor, the principal melody is a sort of lonely waltz tune first heard in the strings, then taken over by the piano in a meditative solo passage. Gradually moving into darker harmonic territory, the music soon reaches an impassioned climax. The tempo suddenly quickens, piano racing into an agitated passage punctuated by jabbing figures in the strings, reaching a thundering climax, followed by thudding chords at the very bottom of the instrument. In a hush the strings lead in the trumpet (muted), until now silent in this movement, playing the principal melody. A final variant of the waltz theme becomes a coda, the piano slipping upward, out of sight.

The Third Movement opens with a cadenza-like passage for solo piano, with figuration of a somewhat “Bachian” character, followed by a dark, trudging, very Russian-sounding reply in the strings. The piano figuration returns, now with a halo of string sonority. This 29-bar interlude seems to smooth away any lingering melancholy, readying the listener for the hijinks to follow.

Quite suddenly we are off and running. Set in C Minor, the finale opens with a rather "classical” theme over repeated sixteenth notes in the strings, quickly followed by the entry of the trumpet with a fanfare-like tune in G Minor. From the very start there is a breathless momentum, the music likely to dash off in all directions at once. Momentarily dipping into F-sharp major, a bit of mischief in the trumpet is abruptly shoved out of the way by the piano, who prances through an impudent theme plucked out of thin air. The trumpet jumps in, the music sailing on in a relentless steeplechase. Hurtling along in a dizzy Presto tempo, a madcap trumpet tune in G Major is blared out, a sort of Soviet Can-Can played against the background of chords tossed back and forth between piano and strings. Crashing down into a moment of relative quiet, the “classical” melody returns, first in the piano, then the strings. Then out of the blue comes an innocent little ditty for the trumpet (evoking images of Ferdinand the Bull sniffing the blossoms), which trots along, not the least discomfited by a custard-pie-in-the-face chord (splat!) hurled by the piano. The trumpet is even given a cadenza of ineffable corniness, straight out of the cornet-solo-in-the-village-bandstand repertoire. The primary theme makes one of its occasional appearances, now in E Minor, put through some vigorous contrapuntal gymnastics, only to be elbowed out of the way by the piano, which eagerly accelerates back to the Presto tempo. This hilarious burlesque of a concerto finale concludes with the

Can-Can tune strutting in all its vulgar glory. With whiplash chords in piano and strings, the movement ends, the trumpet spitting out a final fanfare in joyful abandon.

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