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Russian Music: The Romantic and the Soviet


Shostakovich Tchaikovsky


When I made the choice to move to Russia in April 2019, I typically received two kinds of responses when I told others of my decision. One kind of reply I would typically receive was that which emphasised the more Romantic side of Russian culture – proximity to cultural landmarks like the Bolshoi Theatre and Red Square, and home to artistic greats like Tchaikovsky and Tolstoy. The other kind of reaction centred around the Soviet side of Russian history and culture, the side that is, unfortunately, often plagued by stereotypes of Bond villains or spies of the Cold War period. One question I was asked about my decision was simply: “Why Russia, of all places?” Naturally, I had some very easy answers: I have been fascinated by Russian culture for most of my life; my favourite composer is Russian; I need to improve my Russian language skills; and so on. However, I am not writing this piece to justify my own decision to move here, rather to comment on my own experiences and offer insight into the way Russian music is perceived today.

In Scotland, my home country, the friendly rivalry between the more industrious Glasgow and the more picturesque Edinburgh is prevalent in local culture. Much to my surprise, I found a similar dynamic to exist between the main powerhouses of Russia – Moscow and St Petersburg. Built as a minor town in 1147, Moscow was (up until the 20th century) a far more rural city, which contrasts with St Petersburg, which, from its construction in 1703, served as the cultural and imperial capital of the country. Moscow is, nowadays, the more industrious and Soviet of the two cities: it was historically central to the government of the USSR; and much of the more imposing architecture reflects Stalin’s influence. Conversely, St Petersburg reflects more of the imperial aspects of Russian culture: it is home to the many Tsarist palaces; and the architecture recalls the romanticism of the 19th century. In summation, Moscow can be described as the more ‘Soviet’ city, while St Petersburg can be described as the ‘Romantic’ city.

In my mind, this idea coincides with the most familiar styles of ‘art’ music in Russia: Romantic and 20th century. From the Romantic period, Tchaikovsky is arguably the best-known, while in the Soviet era of the 20th century, Shostakovich rose to prominence during a time of adversity. Although one name is likely to be more familiar to most than the other, both are part of a national pride within Russia. To patriotic Russians, the particularity about the era of music is not so important as the fact that each style is part of a greater and more varied cultural identity – all of which is simply to say that both composers are loved and respected in Russian culture. Despite this, there is an inherent contrast in the way these two composers are viewed as Russian cultural icons. To focus on this, some questions and points of interest will be addressed: are people more familiar with the music or the composer; how are these styles of music understood; and how are they received in Russia now?


Romantic composers such as Tchaikovsky can be said to represent the aesthetic beauty of Russia, with his music featuring lyrical, sweeping, and memorable melodies using grand, lush orchestras. Arguably, it his name that comes to mind for most if you are to mention Russian music. In my relatively meagre nine months here, I have been fascinated with the heavy bias in concert programming towards Tchaikovsky – performances of ‘The Nutcracker’ at the city’s major theatres are staged at all times of the year, to substantial audiences. Tchaikovsky’s cultural domination is by no means undeserved – as the first Russian composer to gain international acclaim, it is understandable that he is lauded as an embodiment of Russian musical prowess. The vast majority of people in the Western world nowadays are likely to be familiar with famous pieces from such ballets as ‘Swan Lake’ or ‘The Nutcracker’. Indeed, when looking at the extensive ‘culture’ section of the official website for the Embassy of the Russian Federation to the United Kingdom, it is easy to see that this style of music is more prevalent in the way Russia presents itself culturally to the world. A sample of the page reads as follows:

“Every staging of “Eugene Onegin” and “The Queen of Spades” by Tchaikovsky, “Boris Godunov” by Mussorgsky, “Tsar’s Bride” by Rimsky-Korsakov and “Prince Igor” by Borodin is a remarkable cultural event. Russian opera singers and musicians are world-famous. Opera fans of Paris, London, Berlin, Milan and New-York applauded to Feodor Chaliapin. Great Russian conductors Valery Gergiev and Vladimir Spivakov are today’s idols of classical music fans all over the world. Classical ballet came into Russia in the 18th century. By the end of the 19th century the national school of ballet had finally formed. It has concentrated achievements of the best ballet schools of the world and enriched their [sic] with Russian national dance traditions.[1]

A friend of mine with whom I discussed this, born and raised in Moscow, described the music of Tchaikovsky as “an essential thing to learn about in school,” commenting that “children for generations have been growing up listening to his pieces.” I would argue that there are few people in Russia today who, intentionally or otherwise, are unfamiliar with the sound of Tchaikovsky.

Shostakovich is perhaps one of the best-known Russian composers of the Soviet era. He is famed for his Neo-Classical/Modernist style and distinct yet short musical themes, the most famous of which is that based on his initials – DSCH (in German notation – D – Es – C – H translates as D – E-flat – C – B-natural). Despite this, it seems his musical popularity in Russia is diminished in comparison to that of Tchaikovsky. I mentioned earlier my fascination with the concert programming of the major Russian theatres as I observed them over the past nine months. In the time I have been here, I have seen far fewer scheduled performances advertised in the near future for any of the works of Shostakovich compared to those of Tchaikovsky. As an example, the Moscow State Philharmonic website currently advertises 83 upcoming concerts featuring the music of Tchaikovsky between April 2020 and May 2021. Yet, for concerts featuring music by Shostakovich for the same time period, there are just 23 concert performances scheduled.[2] I have categorised the pieces scheduled in the table below:

Of the 83 concerts featuring Tchaikovsky, symphonic and ballet music dominates the schedule with 34 performances, the majority of which are ballet scenes, predominantly The Nutcracker and Sleeping Beauty. Of the 23 concerts featuring Shostakovich, chamber music and symphonic music are most popular, with varied string quartets dominating the chamber section. However, Symphony No.7 ‘Leningrad’ is the most regularly performed work at 3 scheduled recitals.

On the aforementioned website for the Embassy of the Russian Federation to the United Kingdom, which comments extensively on the cultural significance of Tchaikovsky, it says only the following of 20th century music:

“Great masters of Russian avant-garde of the 20th century have brought priceless contribution into the world [sic] art.”[3]

This all led me to believe that, perhaps, Shostakovich was simply not as memorable a composer here, just as in the United Kingdom. Yet in conversation with Russian friends, while both visiting St Petersburg and living in Moscow, I observed a complete contradiction to my original theory: Shostakovich is widely renowned, and undoubtedly recognised as a figure of cultural significance. Indeed, one Russian friend of mine compared the two, stating, “Both Tchaikovsky and Shostakovich are extremely well-known and loved [in Russia].” So, what is the reason for this discrepancy? It is worth considering, firstly, that Shostakovich’s music can often be perceived as complex and inaccessible. I have written on this aspect of the composer’s oeuvre in the past, and it is certainly true that his characteristically unusual and dark musical themes, sense of disjointedness, and irresolute conclusions can often impact the commercial appeal to audiences, compared with something as universally appealing as ‘The Nutcracker’. However, I would argue that familiarity with Shostakovich is generally based more on the composer as a person than from familiarity with his music. There has always been a cultural fascination with what I will refer to as the ‘tortured artist’ – the creative enigma who overcomes great suffering to produce their art. Some classic examples include Vincent van Gogh, Ludwig van Beethoven, or Sylvia Plath. This concept is problematic for a number of reasons, but from the perspective of Shostakovich it is particularly intriguing. The vast majority of people can recall that Vincent van Gogh painted ‘Starry Night’, that Beethoven wrote ‘Für Elise’, and that Sylvia Plath wrote ‘The Bell Jar’: these works are almost synonymous with the artists themselves. But for Shostakovich, it seems to me that his musical works are far lesser known. As my friend put it, from a Russian perspective, “It seems that people often have no idea what Shostakovich’s music sounds like. They know the face, the name, the fact that Stalin liked his music.” The familiarity people have with Shostakovich’s music is often linked with the oppressive nature of the circumstances under which it was written. For instance, among the most famous orchestral pieces are his opera, Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk, his Symphony No.5, and Symphony No.7 ‘Leningrad’, all of which are politically charged. Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk gained notoriety after a scathing review in Pravda in January 1936, which led to the composer being publicly denounced by the Soviet authorities. The fifth symphony is widely regarded as the composer’s “response to just criticism”, and much of its fame comes from the idea that the sincerity of this claim has been widely disputed; the fifth symphony was alleged to be a disguised criticism of the Soviet government. The seventh symphony, ‘Leningrad’, was the composer’s response to the siege of the city in 1941. It is renowned both for its performance in Leningrad under dire circumstances, and as a symbol of resistance against totalitarianism and militarism. In 1942, after worldwide broadcasts of the work, the composer even featured on the cover of Time magazine, presented as a heroic firefighter (see below).

In other words, the music became famous not for the music itself, but rather the magnitude of the circumstances under which they were written and performed. Shostakovich’s fame and popularity may therefore stem from an admiration of the concept of the ‘tortured artist’ triumphing over adversity. Unfortunately, this often leads more to emphasis being placed on the circumstances surrounding the work, rather than combining this fascination with an appreciation for the musical genius of these pieces.

Rather than being viewed as two separate entities – the composer and the music – it is important that these two concepts are viewed as one. For instance, I would debate that the reason for Shostakovich’s music sounding dissonant and unpleasant is better understood when viewed from the lens of the circumstances and/or the events depicted in the music. As Lydia Goehr writes in ‘Political Music and the Politics of Music’: “Ideally, music's function is to help bring about a better world, by presenting the world as it is.”[4] It is interesting to consider this in contradiction to the public reception of Tchaikovsky. He is undoubtedly better known for his music than his life, which was marked by personal hardship, crises, and depression. As well as privately struggling with his homosexuality in an era where this was deemed unacceptable, he suffered the loss of his mother at an early age, as well as the death of his closest friend, Nikolai Rubinstein. I would argue that, unlike Shostakovich, Tchaikovsky’s music served as something to counter the pain of his own life, rather than represent it – a beautiful and striking contrast to a life that was often marred by significant loss.

When I first had the idea for this essay, I had wondered if I would come to some conclusion about the Romantic and the Soviet sides of music that would lead me to view one as more culturally significant than the other. In truth, this is more a matter of personal music taste. It would be like trying to define Moscow or St Petersburg as more culturally significant – it would be impossible.

Of course, I had my own pre-conceived thoughts about the differences between Tchaikovsky and Shostakovich. While the music of Tchaikovsky is generally more familiar to most, I would argue that the life of Tchaikovsky is less so; whereas the reverse is true of Shostakovich, a composer whose life and struggles are better known than his music. Yet, while they certainly are vastly different both musically and culturally, there are similarities in the way they are represented in modern culture. Each are emblematic of Russian art music, and each draws cultural fascination and appreciation, albeit for different reasons.

In distinct ways, they are both represented as cultural icons – Tchaikovsky more musically, and Shostakovich more historically. Tchaikovsky and Shostakovich are not opposites, in the same way St Petersburg and Moscow are not; rather, they are two facets of a diverse Russian culture. Each composer represents a part of the country’s national pride – the fame and splendour of the Romantic, and as a testament or memorial to the struggles of the Soviet era, and to say that one is more significant or important than the other would be redundant. As my friend put it, from a Russian's standpoint, “when it comes to cultural things, style doesn’t usually matter that much, as it’s a part of a greater thing to be proud of.”


[1] From https://www.rusemb.org.uk/russiaculture/ (accessed 13/04/20) [2] From https://meloman.ru/ (as of 13/04/20) [3] From https://www.rusemb.org.uk/russiaculture/ (accessed 13/04/20) [4] Goehr, Lydia. Political Music and the Politics of Music. Pub. The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Vol. 52, No. 1, The Philosophy of Music (Winter, 1994), pp. 99-112

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