Let me tell you how much I love the music of Dmitri Shostakovich: sometimes on dark, cold evenings, I like to headbang to String Quartet No. 8 while sitting in my living room. Like, actually. It contains one of the greatest drops in classical music history.
My first introduction to Shostakovich was when my youth orchestra performed his second piano concerto, when I was 16. It was one of the more memorable concerts of my life: I loved the piece, of course, but the dress rehearsal had been abysmal. None of us knew if we’d be able to pull the piece off at the concert without becoming a trainwreck (especially that 7/8 section in the last movement). However, the impossible happened, and our performance at the concert wound up being nearly flawless. It was such a miraculous event that we all made black T-shirts with hot pink print that said, “I survived the Shostakovich,” which apparently I still have:
In college, I fell in love with Shosty all over again after listening to a few pieces for music history classes (Symphony No. 5, of course, and String Quartet No. 8). I was especially drawn to the string quartets, and after watching a riveting performance of his ninth string quartet by the Artaria String Quartet in the summer of 2011, I decided I needed more. A friend gave me his copy of a recording of the complete string quartets of Shostakovich performed by the Emerson String Quartet, and I spent the particularly angsty first semester of my junior year of college jamming to the album and watching the snow fall over the rural Minnesota landscape outside of my dorm room window to cope with my feels. After deciding that taking an upper level post-tonal music theory class wasn’t enough theory for me, I ended up doing an independent study analysis of String Quartet No. 9 during the second semester of my junior year. Twenty-one pages of analysis later, I was still in love. I bought a phone case that said DSCH and had a picture of his iconic glasses, which I had for years before that phone finally died. I blame Shostakovich for the fact that I’ve written two string quartets now, even though I’m not a string player (a friend of mine once told me that she could hear the Shostakovich influence in The Phoenix… I’ll take it). These days I’ll take any chance I can get to hear the string quartets in recital – most recently, it was Accordo performing No. 4 at Icehouse, a bar in Minneapolis, which was such a lovely setting!
Shostakovich’s life is so fascinating to me. I still have quite a bit of reading left to do about his life before Stalin (although from what I’ve read in his bio so far, he sounds like he was kind of a diva as a young man), but as a composer, I’m constantly struck by the struggle he went through under the censorship of Soviet Russia. There are conflicting theories as to whether or not he secretly hated the U.S.S.R., but regardless of how he felt, the string quartets (which were subject to less scrutiny than the symphonies), are so dark. Yes, he reused a lot of his own themes over and over again (I had a long discussion about this with one of my theory professors over a few pints of beer in a small pub once), but it never bothers me. I always grin when I hear the DSCH motive poking out of somewhere unexpected.
I’m currently sipping tea and listening to String Quartet No. 10 while watching the grey, chilly, early autumn weather outside my apartment. It’s so delightfully perfect.
Happy 111th birthday to you, Shosty! Thanks for all of the music and inspiration.