The Bridgewater Hall
Manchester

The Times
31 January 2006
Geoff Brown

Hallé/Skrowaczewski

Musicologists unhealthily obsessed with scouring Shostakovich's work for hidden signs of the times were given some amazing new clues in the Hallé's programme notes for Thursday's concert in Manchester's current centenary bonanza. The Year 1953, the list of facts began: Shostakovich composes his tenth symphony. Stalin dies. John F. Kennedy marries Jacqueline Bouvier. Coronation ceremony of Queen Elizabeth II.

Stalin made his way into this tormented symphony, of course; impossible to keep him out. But our gracious Queen? Well, I couldn't find her. But then Stanislaw Skrowaczewski's blazing performance with a Hallé orchestra at the peak of excellence always put the music first. Who could bother with theories and shadow plays when the musical arguments were so cogently presented, the instruments' interplay so involving? Even the gong strokes in the third movement shivered with a beauty far beyond the norm. And the parade of woodwind and brass — the clarinet hovering like a haggard ghost, mole-like bassoons digging a tunnel, horns recalling a futile amour, flutes and piccolo skittish in pairs — presented their own compelling narrative. Society, the individual, and the battle for self-affirmation: that was the tale being told.

Beyond the perfection of colour and line, Skrowaczewski's command of structure made this account special. In some conductors' hands, Shostakovich's longer movements come at us waywardly, in splinters; here we had an organic sense of matter and matters building, tensing, transforming. In the more garish stretches, such as the whirlwind scherzo (supposedly a portrait of Stalin) or the darkening merriment of the finale, Skrowaczewski steered away from outright hysteria. But there could still be no mistake: this was a work written in rage and blood.

Throughout the night, the 82-year-old Skrowaczewski, gaunt but energetic, seemed in total command of the orchestra he served as chief conductor in the 1980s. In Beethoven's Egmont overture all the right boxes were ticked: precision, punch, nobility, heroism.

Then Christian Blackshaw arrived for Beethoven's Piano Concerto No 2: early, lightweight, Mozart-plus — not the most obvious concerto to pick if you're seeking Shostakovich parallels. So we enjoyed the contrast instead, with incisive dancing from Blackshaw's fingers and an equal spring in the Hallé's accompaniment. Ample quantities of wit, too, topped by Blackshaw's detached, pianissimo tip-toeing away before the final bar's forte: a lovely effect, most deftly engineered.

More Shostakovich with the Hallé on Thursday; and, with or without Stalin, not to be missed.