Schostakowitsch Waltz

[Marylouise Colleen]

Compositionand premiere: Shostakovich originally composed what has become known as the Waltz No. 2 in 1955-56 for his score (Op. 99) for the film The First Echelon (Pervyi eshelon), directed by Mikhail Kalatozov, which had its premiere on April 29, 1956. The waltz was also included in the Suite from The First Echelon (Op. 99a) arranged by Shostakovich and Levon Atovmyan in 1956. The BSO has never performed the Waltz No. 2, but Keith Lockhart led a Boston Pops performance of the waltz in a program celebrating the Ballet Russes in May 2009.

In the late 1950s an anonymous person, probably Shostakovich himself, arranged an orchestral suite from ballet, musical theater, and film music of the 1930s to 1950s, that was mistakenly identified for many years as the Suite for Jazz Orchestra, No. 2; it is now known correctly as the Suite for Variety Orchestra. Waltz No. 2 is the seventh of eight numbers in the Suite for Variety Orchestra.

Waltz No. 2 is certainly the most famous from the suite, largely due to its affiliation with The First Elechon. This particular composition by Shostakovich is in ABA form, with the outer sections being firmly rooted in C minor. Throughout the short work Shostakovich moves between Eb major and C minor (relative major/minor keys), which creates a certain unsteadiness to the piece.

The unrelenting bass line is prominent throughout the work, with the double basses and snare drum being the consistent parts on this line. The construction of this work is certainly reminiscent of a toy solider march, and the lightness of the melody creates even more of a haunting beauty within. Although only a short waltz, this work has stood up to the test of time and its immediate success has not wavered in the modern day.

During the coming year, 1966, this extraordinary Russian composer is going to be sixty years old, and we are therefore dedicating this program to him and to his lifelong devotion to his art. May it long continue.

But it's not only those mischievous wrong-note tunes of Shostakovich that make his humor, it's also his way of adding or skipping a beat here and there, where you least expect it, as in this little theme, which follows the one we just heard:

You see? It's like a ride on some mad Coney Island machine where you're whipped and flung in fifty directions, always when you least expect it. But anyway, shaken up as we are, we have reached the dominant key of B-flat, and are now ready for the appearance of the second theme. Here comes another twist. You may remember from our program on sonata form that the second theme of a symphonic movement should provide a contrast with the first theme, not only in key but also in feeling; that is, if the first theme is strong and manly, the second theme is likely to be sweet and feminine. Or vice versa. Anyway, in this case the first theme as you heard was playful and bouncy, so we are led to expect a second theme that will contrast by being sweet and smooth. And what do we get? Anything but. Because out comes a jaunty little marching tune, whistled by the tiny, tinny piccolo:

And so on. We've had another surprise. You see, most musical jokes are surprises, just as most other jokes are: You expect one thing and you get another, and somehow that tickles your funny bone. Nobody knows why. And this surprising, silly second theme is even sillier when it comes back in the recapitulation, because this time it's played not even by the piccolo but by one single solo violin, who, forcing out that squeaky little tune over the accompaniment of a whole brass section.

As you'll see when we play the whole movement, all through this section of the recapitulation which leads up to the squeaky second theme, that trombone keeps plowing in with his two notes, always in the wrong places, as though he's skipped fifty bars of music by mistake and has come in too soon:

Naturally I can't tell you all the jokes in advance; I've got to leave some for you to discover yourselves. Which I hope you will, so that you get the maximum enjoyment out of this delightful first movement of the Ninth Symphony by Dmitri Shostakovich.

The second movement of the Ninth Symphony by Shostakovich doesn't seem to be a joke at all at first. It's a quiet, sweet little waltz, actually rather sad. There is no horseplay here, as there was with the trombone in the first movement; in fact, the trumpets and trombones don't play at all in this piece, and neither does the percussion. It's all on a much smaller scale, almost like chamber music, with haunting long melodies played by solo woodwind instruments. It opens with this clarinet solo:

And so it goes on, wending its melancholy way. Later that same long line is repeated by the solo flute and at the very end by our old friend the piccolo who as you'll see, has changed from his perky personality in the first movement into this gentle, wistful one. And in between these different woodwind solos, the strings play strange, yearning waves of melody:

Now what in the world is a Spanish bullfighter doing in this symphony? Well, as I said, it's full of surprises; anything can happen. It's as though suddenly, at a party, someone grabbed the Spanish shawl off the piano, wrapped himself in it, and gave out with a wild gypsy dance. It's insane.

Good heavens, what a change! Is this joke symphony really going to pieces? What are we doing with great utterances? It's gone insane. Well, let's see what this tragic statement turns out to be: It turns out to be a bassoon solo, in a free reciting style, very mournful and very tragic:

as if to say: This is going to be a real Ninth Symphony, tragic and monumental and everything! Just like Beethoven! So he has his trombones repeat the pompous fanfare, and again he has the bassoon wail out that cadenza, only even more mournful now, and more "Russian," more emotional. And that's the end of the whole fourth movement, because, super-surprise of all, that same doleful bassoon, without so much as drawing breath from his last note slyly sneaks into a kittenish little dance tune.

And the tune gradually gathers momentum, as little by little the whole orchestra picks it up, until soon we're galloping away into the fifth and final movement, which is a brilliant, breathless rondo.

The name variety orchestra is a better fit than jazz orchestra because the group includes a harp, celeste, and accordion in addition to a saxophone section. This suite seems to be the only piece Shostakovich wrote that included an accordion, and holds a special place in the hearts of accordion players world wide.

Shostakovich solidified his place as one of the greatest composers of the 20th century with his remarkable output of symphonies, concerti, string quartets, and piano music. I was very surprised to learn that in addition to all of his music written for the stage, he also wrote a significant amount of music for the screen.

I am such a sucker for the twists and turns of Shostakovich melodies. This waltz is graceful and uplifting with an underbelly of creepy and sinister. The sounds of the variety orchestra give the tune a public dance hall feel, and when the piece hits its climax I can almost see a room full of happy Russians dancing and singing together. Nostrovia!

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