Still At The Low End

It occurred to me this morning that much as I was enjoying the bassoon sounding rather jolly, if not downright mellifluous in various baroque goodies, I was neglecting its exploitation by the great moderns, especially Dimitri Shostakovich - always a man for unsettling rumblings in the lower winds. So I put on his Symphony No 13 'Babi Yar' with Bernard Haitink at the helm in a recording I acquired back in 1988 when I was beginning to understand just how deeply serious music could be.

It was a bit of a mistake, I must say, to play the symphony at a good volume. The loud bits are more than just loud. They are panicky loud in a way that gets under the skin, even when you might expect the composer to be essaying a bit of triumph. Actually he just doesn't. I still have got no idea what the final movement is supposed to be doing, except for being weirdly sarcastic about the cowardice of those who put their heads down to survive.

And the slow movement Fears, featuring the most uncomfortable tuba introduction imaginable, takes the notion of the unsettling to the edge. The aural equivalent of an anxiety attack.