Shostakovich's Jazz Stands in a Genre of Its Own

As a young man, Dmitri Shostakovich had a very skewed idea of what the term "jazz" meant. Living in the sheltered climes of Lenin's young Soviet Union, Shostakovich could only glean origins and aspects of form from cultured friends from the West and bits of historical information that happened to come his way.

Thus, Shostakovich's "Jazz Suites" are quite unlike any jazz that we know today. They don't even correspond to the jazz compositions attempted by Igor Stravinsky at the same time--his were far more exploratory in chord structure and overall form. Shostakovich's jazz embodies a kind of ethereal chintz that might call to mind, on first listening, the London compact disc, Riccardo Chailly and the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra of Amsterdam attempt to bring forth that light naivete in all of its utter inocuousness.

Perhaps an inkling of the bizarre waters ahead comes from the titles of the movements in the Suites. Named like conventional dance movements, we have waltzes, polkas, a march and even a foxtrot. Yes, one could actually dance to this music. As with much of "classical jazz" composed until the latter half of the century--jazz authored by so-called classical composers--Shostakovich's suites leave no room for improvisation and are embarrassingly strict in time and rhythm.

Chailly and the Concertgebouw bring the strictness to life, but not without a little flair. It's quite a change from the calm, reserved playing the orchestra usually produces in performances of the standard Teutonic masterworks. However, one can almost see a bunch of musicians in Moscow, completely ignorant of stylists such as Jelly Roll Morton and Duke Ellington, taking some joy in the fluffy flourishes of Shostakovich's work. These musicians had perhaps heard of Scott Joplin, and in fact Joplin seems the closest to Shostakovich in form.

The London disc also features a recording of Shostakovich's Piano Concerto No. 1, with Ronald Brautigam at the piano and Peter Masseurs supplying the trumpet solo work. The piece resembles Shostakovich's other concertos for violin and cello in that conventional devices of the Germanic school are used for delirious swells and placid falls, with the addition of unexpected minor chord modulations that open up new possibilities for the instrument. Those who see Shostakovich as a throwback to the Romantics should not underestimate the importance of his original variations on timetested themes.

Brautigam offers sharp, pointed playing reminiscent of John Browning. Superior recording circumstances have allowed his cutting solo lines to ring with intensity. Chailly and the Concertgebouw supply restrained accompaniment that seems too intimate at times. The Piano Concerto, after all, does offer many more serious ideas than the Jazz Suites.

The last piece on the disc is the widelyknown "Tahiti Trot," based on the popular Vincent Youman tune "Tea for Two." As the story goes, Shostakvich orchestrated the theme in 40 minutes after a challenge by a friend. Chintz turns into schmaltz at this point; the listener is treated to a seemingly endless (actually only three-minute-33-second) passing of the mindless theme from section to section. The best advice here is to listen for the melding of one texture into the next. Shostakovich manages to keep within the same balance of bass and treble parts, though he sometimes bursts into a gaudy burlesque.

For anyone seeking an excursion into early "classical jazz", this disc may merit a side trip. Chailly's direction is faultless but for a few absences of "oomph." However, concentrated study may best be confined to those who felt the influences most at home--Copland, Gould and, later, Bernstein make excellent examples.

Shostakovich did not seek to achieve much more in the "jazz" medium, even after chinks in the Iron Curtain let the real music flow in. These pieces reflect, more than anything, the excitement of a young composer experimenting with something beguiling, mysterious and rather unknown to himself.