I wrote these program notes for a concert given in Providence in 2012 by the Jerusalem Quartet. This is an intense, short, and very weird string quartet, but worth the effort it takes to get to know it.
DMITRI SHOSTAKOVICH (1906-1975). String Quartet No. 7 in f#, Op 108 (March 1960)
-
Allegretto
-
Lento
-
Allegro
Written
in the same year that Shostakovich was forced to join the Communist
Party, this quartet is spared the tragic dimensions the composer put
into his Eighth Quartet, a virtual suicide note in music. Although it
cannot be separated from the times and circumstances in which it was
composed, this is an intensely personal work, an elegy for the
composer’s first wife Nina, who died in 1954.
The
work was premiered May 15, 1960 by the Beethoven Quartet in St.
Petersburg (then still Leningrad), and had its Moscow premiere at the
Moscow Conservatory on September 17 of the same year.
It
is the shortest of all of Shostakovich’s quartets, and there is the
risk of writing notes that take longer to read than the quartet takes
to listen to! But as is often the case with great music, composers
can compress much into a small interval of time.
The
composer had a life-plan for composing string quartets, intending to
compose one in each major and minor key, doing for the quartet
literature what Bach did for the keyboard in his Well-Tempered
Clavier. That said, the Seventh Quartet should have been in Eb
Major, following the scheme the composer was using. Instead, the
quartet is set in the moody and passionate key of F# Minor, which
puts it in company of Haydn’s “Farewell” symphony and Mahler’s
withering Tenth Symphony.
Shostakovich
often includes coded content in his work, and when you hear the first
theme in the opening Allegretto, a kind of sardonic, skipping melody,
you will immediately hear three repeated eighth notes, followed by a
rest, quite literally a “knock at the door.” In German folklore,
Death knocks three times at the door or window of a dying person, to
the horror of family members watching at the bedside. Considering how
many nights during the Stalin years, the composer expected a
different kind of “knock at the door” that would take him to the
Gulag, this gesture is richly suggestive. We are meant to recall
terrible times. (In the Tenth Symphony, Shostakovich alternated the
door-knock with the notes D-Eb-C-B, which are D-Es-C-H in German
notation for the composer’s initials, meaning, “Knock-knock-knock!
Shostakovich!”) So no matter how engaging the violin’s utterances
might be, the knock at the door is embedded in the theme.
There
is a break into hurried sixteenth notes, and a key change to Eb (the
“home” key Shostakovich planned to use originally!) with the
cello carrying the line, some very chromatic passages passing
it back to the violin, and then a bridge passage played in block
chords.
This
bridge brings us back to F# Minor, with the main theme played
pizzicato. This adds further to the grotesque atmosphere. It has the
air of a hushed conversation, and the pizzicato requires leaving out
the grace notes, so that the effect is a coded conversation, out of
earshot of Those Who Watch and Listen. The movement ends with
extensions of the “knock at the door” motif.
The
Lento is an eerie, almost minimalist movement, with no key
signature, played with the strings muted (con sordino). The
second violin plays an unsettling succession of arpeggios, which look
like a wave depicted on an oscilloscope. Viola and cello play
glissansdi at one point, adding to the weirdness of the
atmosphere. What is going on here? The clue, I think comes from the
biography of Nina Shostakovich. She was an experimental physicist who
spent months each year on Mt. Alagez in Armenia, engaged in cosmic
ray research. Like many Soviet researchers, she was exposed to
massive doses of radiation from radioactive materials, and from
poorly shielded X-ray equipment. She died from a radiation-induced
cancer. This music sounds to me almost like a science-fiction sound
track depicting radiation. I would venture to give this Lento
movement the nick-name “Death by X-Ray.”
The
final Allegro has, for most of its length, no key indication.
It is highly atonal, and since it is riddled with intermingled sharps
and flats, it must be a daunting task to play. Even though the
musical materials are spun out from motifs in the first movement, it
would seem to be a Dance of Death, with the skeletons from the X-Ray
now hammering away at a fiendish dance. The theme is passed among the
viola and the two violins as a canon, the strictest type of fugue
imitation (a melody played against itself, not against a second
theme). Even though what we hear would give Bach convulsions, it is a
Baroque concoction as conceived by a wrong-note revolutionary. This
is angry music depicting a universe that kills capriciously. Then,
abruptly, the “home key” of F# Minor asserts itself, with muted
strings. As the quartet slows down and softens to its conclusion,
there is no fist-shaking against Death (what is the use?), just a
quiet slipping away, life sitting at life’s deathbed, and a hint of
the ominous three-note “knock at the door.”
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