Shostakovich - Piano Concerto No. 2

We’ll never know if Shostakovich meant it when he wrote that his Second Piano Concerto (a gift for his son’s 19th birthday) had “no redeeming artistic merits”. The composer was used to censure by Stalin’s oppressive regime – maybe he was pre-empting further scolding from the authorities. But Stalin was, by then, dead. So can we assume Shostakovich had his tongue in his cheek? Some might argue “yes” after hearing Leonard Bernstein – as conductor and soloist – make such a magnificent case for this work as a 20th-century masterpiece.

Disciplined and delirious

All begins orderly enough. A bassoon, clarinets and oboes play a bouncy, rhythmically taut march. They’re joined by the piano, entering with a merry tune that’s quickly replaced by an unusual take on “What shall we do with the drunken sailor?” (this accompanied by full strings, an assertive bassoon and a snare drum).

The music then becomes briefly triumphant, until the piano expands on its opening theme above hushed strings, with brass and woodwinds providing shades of extra colour.

As Bernstein gets suddenly more ferocious (T5-2:29), everything he and the orchestra does sounds wild and faintly macabre. Mockery is made of the march; piccolos and flutes shriek; the piano just keeps on going in an effort to escape the madness.

But no matter how fast Bernstein’s runs, his players’ notes stick to his until he reaches his solo (T5-5:07). A few moments later – and with the orchestra again crowding in – Bernstein revives the peculiar “Drunken Sailor” melody to play an unexpected role in ending this first movement on a high.

Moving and mournful

Sad strings usher in a Russian winter’s white-grey skies at the opening of the second movement. The soloist’s bittersweet musings bring shafts of sunlight, yet the mood of this tragic andante remains cold despite the relative warmth of the beautiful piano lines. This isn’t music to hear when a lover has left or a loved one has died. It doesn’t pull at the heart strings – it tears them out. And it all ends so quietly, so pathetically, so finally. When the third movement starts without a pause in which to dry your eyes, it has you blinking and squinting at its almost disrespectful brightness.

Breathless and breathtaking

An insistent, repeated piano note gets the third movement off to a brisk start. It turns into a jolly melody which grows in confidence as the rest of the orchestra join it in what becomes a Latin American-style dance. Then some furious pianism (T7-1:42) – accompanied by unscored contributions from orchestra members’ creaky chairs (a mild irritation heard elsewhere on this recording) – leads us into a darker interlude.

More lightening finger work from Bernstein is followed by a grotesque, hurrying march (T7-3:45) with snare drum machine gun fire. The earlier Latin American flavour then returns, building to one last display of dazzling virtuosic brilliance that propels piano and orchestra at a gallop into a blazing finale.