I’d been looking forward to Brahms’ Symphony No. 4 all week! Today, I broke my personal record with a 152-mile commute. With two concerts back-to-back, I’m absolutely exhilarated.
The first half featured Shostakovich’s Violin Concerto No. 1—what a stunner! An unexpected delight, especially since I didn’t prepare by listening beforehand. I’m generally not a huge fan of Shostakovich’s music, so I didn’t have high hopes. But Sayaka Shoji (庄司纱矢香) was made for this piece! Honestly, I’d never heard of her before (to be fair, her name and photo weren’t even on the SFS program—ironically fitting for the shadowy, introspective mood of this concerto).
Most concertos place the cadenza at the peak of the first or final movement, showcasing the soloist in all their virtuosic glory, with the orchestra playing a supportive, starry backdrop. But Shostakovich flips this convention. The cadenza here bridges the third and fourth movements, beginning as a lonely, mumbled soliloquy from the violin. It stumbles into a disjointed, fantasia-like passage, already bruised and fragile. When it recalls the scherzo theme from the second movement, it seems to force a smile, trying to recapture a bright, carnival-like grandeur—but with the orchestra standing silently by, that "grand amusement park" dissolves into the isolated performance of a sad clown. It broke me. Completely. The violin’s desperate pleas go unanswered, and when the DSCH motif (D-E♭-C-B) reappears, it feels like a scream: "I am DSCH! I am DSCH!!"—heart-wrenching.
(Side note: While it’s widely believed that Shostakovich adopted the DSCH motif as his "signature" starting with his 10th Symphony, this violin concerto was composed around the same time but published later due to political circumstances. Some argue that its second movement might actually contain the earliest use of DSCH.)
Sayaka’s slender figure and simple attire amplified the haunting loneliness as she played the second movement’s theme—it sent chills down my spine. The cadenza doesn’t lead back to the orchestra in a triumphant climax, as one might expect. Instead, the orchestra introduces a new celebratory theme for the fourth movement, perfectly underscoring its title, Burlesque.
Except for the cadenza, the solo violin throughout the piece feels like an improvisatory stream of consciousness, almost fantastical. Honestly, the kind of symphonic "daydreaming" I often have while biking mirrors this exact style—wildly exhilarating but developing too fast for me to capture. Usually, I can jot down a phrase or two if I’m lucky, but trying to pin down the harmonies takes me so long that the rest of the flow is gone by then. (I blame my limited knowledge of harmony.) So far, only Stravinsky has ever given me a similar feeling, but Shostakovich is now firmly on that list.
Interestingly, I’ve listened to some of his more "accessible" pieces before—like his famous Symphony No. 5. They’re beautiful but don’t evoke this same sensation. And yet, both styles feel distinctly Shostakovich, which is fascinating in itself.
