1. 12/9/20
It begins with a roar - a giant cluster of every colour. After that, come a series of seemingly disjointed gestures: low rumbles of thunder and higher jagged fragments. Gradually, Silvestrov unveils the first of several long, long melodies, and a new tone - lyrical, Romantic - dominates the rest of the piece. For 40 minutes or so, the music operates in what the composer has called the “region of the coda”; the 5th Symphony (1980-2) is one of his longest “postludes”, works intended as “a response to and echo of what already exists.” In a Fanfare interview, he elaborates: “instead of enacting the huge drama of cultural and artistic development that was taking place during the last century once more, you try to speak in reminiscences and allusions. It’s a reaction - a lyrical reflection rather than a new emotional upsurge.”
Were I not already a convert, I’d be intrigued by all this, but perhaps a little wary. After all, in the case of the 5th, Silvestrov proposes a 45-minute, drama-shunning, single-movement epilogue dealing in "reminiscences and allusions.” It’s not hard to imagine how the piece could end up being aimless, mawkish or just plain boring - here is a composer treading some very fine lines.
2. 13/9/20
For the listener doused in the music of the past (Silvestrov has talked of “drowning in sonic memory”), the "reminiscences and allusions" aren’t hard to hear. For starters, there’s some Bruckner and Mahler (especially the Adagietto of his 5th), as well as hints of the German woodland horn calls of Weber, Schubert and beyond (Bruckner and Mahler again). Silvestrov's Romantic melodies evolve and extend very slowly; typically, he is happy to return to the beginning of an idea over and again, making several passes, walking us a little further each time. Running alongside and in-between are a series of bubbling, arpeggiated figures (shades of 19th century song), which themselves expand and contract to fill the space. These faster-moving fireworks help to give a sense of momentum, although they tend to fizzle out pretty quickly. Rather, it’s the Mahlerian melodies, and their slow-moving harmonies, that tow the piece along. Repeated listening cements the sense of where this music’s going, but even on first listen, it doesn’t sag. Every five minutes or so, Silvestrov freshens things up, bringing in new material, before putting it to slow, patient work. The move from section to section is smoothly, subtly done - the new ideas just different enough to mark a change. Silvestrov’s extraordinary orchestration plays a part here - notes ring on and fade slowly, as though he’s working with a giant piano sustain pedal.
3. 14/9/20
A precarious stack of CDs tells the story of my (fairly) recent listening. At the top are current obsessions: lots of Haydn quartets, Mozart piano concertos, Schumann, Nielsen, some Korngold and Richard Rodney Bennett. Down the bottom is the soundtrack of early lockdown. Here is mostly quieter, less busy music: Renaissance masses and motets, Nono’s Prometeo, Mompou, Feldman, Pärt, and two versions of the Silvestrov symphony. Like most of the pieces at the bottom of the pile, the Silvestrov is music with a slower resting heart rate. Listening to these pieces, there is time to take in detail, but also to reflect, and have a good look round (compare this to, say, the Haydn at the top of the pile - with that, my mind is racing, always looking for where we’re going next).
Yesterday, I found myself wanting to look under the bonnet, aiming to work out how Silvestrov does what he does. This morning, I tried to resist that a bit, and listen beyond the notes. I was struck afresh by the music's great beauty, but also by its powerful aura of nostalgia (not mawkishness!). I know I'm not alone - "nostalgia" is a word that crops up frequently in writing about Silvestrov, although naturally, it's a personal thing. Listening to Silvestrov's 5th, I think I probably start out pining for that beloved Romantic music, held at a distance. Given so much time and space, though, the musical nostalgia seems to broaden into something wider and less specific, my mind latching on to non-musical thoughts and memories (however it works, it's not hard to see why I was particularly drawn to this piece during lockdown).
This afternoon, home alone, I turned the volume up, and had another listen. This time round, pinned back in my chair by that opening onslaught, I found myself tracking that huge cluster, and the rumbles and shards that come in its wake. In truth, those opening gestures are never far away. Most of the time, they lurk in the background, spreading gentle unease. At the centre of the piece (around 20' onwards), they gain in strength, threatening to close the portal to the past, shutting off access to all that beauty. The door remains ajar, though, and the Romantic music from the other side begins to reassert itself. By the time we reach the last section, the opening roar has become a timid, washed-out echo. Towards the end, the first of the long melodies makes a return, although the cluster has the final, whispered word.
4. 15/9/20
These last few days, I've been listening to the recording made by the Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin, conducted by David Robertson. On balance, it’s my favourite of the the two I own, although I’ve a soft spot for my first, by Roman Kofman and the Kiev Conservatory Symphony Orchestra. Unsurprisingly, the playing on the Robertson is a bit more polished (only marginally, though), and the recorded sound is better - I’m not always that bothered, but it does help with a piece this dense and multilayered. There are several others available these days, including one by the LPO and Vladimir Jurowski. I presume this is a recording of the 2009 UK premiere, which received this scathing review in the Guardian - not everyone is sold on Silvestrov's 5th.
