Patty Rentschler

Professor Sprout

MUS-111-001

December 11, 2009

Suggestion in Shostakovich’s Tenth Symphony

Emotional and symbolic ambiguity is a consistent thread within the works of

Shostakovich. Both of these topics have been heavily debated in the musical community,

especially in regards to the Tenth Symphony. What is the meaning behind this symphony?

Shostakovich has left us all grasping for any fragment of detail. So much so that Volkov‟s

memoirs had everyone buying into what we wanted to believe: it‟s all about the Stalin years.

Needless to say, the falsified claims by Volkov brought us back to searching the music for the

smallest traces of sociopolitical influence. Perhaps one of the most interesting traces of the

composer in Shostakovich‟s music is his use of acronyms, and several inhabit the Tenth. In the

context of this work, the acronymic themes seem to be a very important gateway into what

Shostakovich was thinking. However, in the context of themselves there may not be enough

there to note something that is externally important. Where do these themes and motives appear

in the symphony? What is suggested by this musical vocabulary through Shostakovich‟s use of

orchestration and placement within the symphony? One can also venture outside of the Tenth to

draw important connections –perchance take a look and see when and where these themes appear

in other works by Shostakovich.

The DSCH motif is amongst one of the most recognizable themes in music. Shostakovich,

possibly with an influence by Bach, implements his initials into a small musical idea: the D
being the note D, the S being E flat (in German), the C being the note C, and the H being B

natural (in German) (Ottaway 48). (See Example One) The motif makes its first appearance in

the third movement of Shostakovich‟s Tenth. It is introduced by the winds and then filtered

down to the strings during a toy march-like passage of the third movement (Blokker). The march

fades into a woodwind trio with sparse string accompaniment and features the flute playing the

DSCH motif at various pitch levels. The result is a bizarre addition to an unresolved tone of

mockery. Interestingly enough, Sheinberg mentions the DSCH motif within his chapter on the

grotesque in Shostakovich‟s music. In regards to this specific part of the symphony he states:

“The last semantic point is the melodic cell, made upon Shostakovich‟s musical acronym D-S-C-

H motif, thus identifying himself with the miserable, grotesque dancing figure.” (Sheinberg 294).

I have to concur with Sheinberg in saying that there is a strong sense of identity in this passage.

It would be farfetched to deny the personal mark. The way the motif flirts within the different

sections of the orchestra is certainly suggestive of a „HA HA‟ Shostakovich. Though, as Hurwitz

points out, this movement better than any introduces that “hear no evil, see no evil” ambivalence

that plagues many of Shostakovich‟s works (129).

The end of this signature idea gives way to an onslaught of military percussion featuring

the snare drum, bass drum, and cymbal. Though Shostakovich is known for his heavy use of

military-like percussion, the placement of it here is quite suggestive. Suggestive of what though?

Sheinberg, in talking about the theme, notes that this motif is highlighted in this movement of the

symphony (Sheinberg 294). He muses that it is the heaviness of the accompaniment against the

shrillness of the winds that creates an “almost hellish waltz” (Sheinberg 294). Clearly the strong,

industrial battery is integral to the heaviness and sociopolitical connotations drawn.

 The DSCH motif also makes its way into the fourth movement of the symphony. It is

pushed to the forefront of the music as it is blasted from every section of the orchestra. The

military-like battery is washed in the overtones of Shostakovich‟s acronym and hints even more

powerfully at a deeper meaning. David Hurwitz is bold enough to say that this moment confirms

the fact that this symphony is about Stalin. As quoted:

For me this gesture, more than any other, confirms both the meaning of the second

movement and the expressive point of the symphony. Stalin‟s death gave Shostakovich

hope for the future, and he expresses it in the most personal way: by using his own

musical motive to deal with a deathblow to his vision of terror. (Hurwitz 132)

This is quite a daring statement. Bold, but is also what a lot of people that listen to this work are

thinking. It is interesting to look at writings that contemplate this idea of a Stalinist and personal

program, and also to think about how Shostakovich would react to such statements (by

musicologists and critics).

Hugh Ottaway, the author of a short guide to Shostakovich‟s symphonies shares an opinion

which is a little less ostentatious and more logical.

When the Tenth was new, and even as late as 1959, I adversely criticized the finale as „a

brilliant summing-up which mysteriously leaves the vital issues undecided‟. While

recognizing the effect of the piece, that reaction shows a failure to perceive the

imaginative idea. There is something unfinal here, but it is knowing and deliberate and

not at all a miscalculation (Ottaway 49).

What is this purposeful air of unfinished business? Does it not fuel the flame of suggestion? It is

perhaps these moments of uncertainty within the symphony which garnered extreme amounts of

flak from Soviet officials and the Soviet Composer‟s Union. As quoted in MacDonald‟s book:

…it drew a mixed response from the critics who were, as yet, uncertain which way the

wind was blowing. Shostakovich‟s Proletkult enemies could afford to be less cautious;

Dhrennikov, Koval, and Dzerzhinsky all launched vituperative attacks on the Tenth and

the controversy duly flared in the Composers‟ Union. Describing the work as „the tragedy

of the profoundly isolated individual, helpless in the face of the forces of evil‟, the critic

Boris Yarustovsky added, menacingly: „Such a conception of the world is very far from

that which is experienced by the majority of Soviet people.‟ (MacDonald 204)

When Shostakovich was directly asked about the symphony he merely stated: “Let them work it

out for themselves” (MacDonald 205). He did however offer himself criticism in regards to form

as a sort of appeasement to the Soviet officials. One can certainly gesture that his lack of

acceptance and denial over the content of the symphony is due to the fact that the Soviet

government still had a strong hand with Stalin gone. After all, Shostakovich would never live to

see a liberated Russia.

Shostakovich passed away in 1975. This was a little over twenty years after Stalin passed,

and his music in this period of time made more use of his own acronym. The last symphony he

wrote, the Fifteenth, the DSCH motif appears in the horns as the „betrayal‟ motif gallops

underneath (MacDonald 243). (The betrayal motif is a rhythmic motif which MacDonald alludes

to quite frequently in Shostakovich‟s later works.) The accelerated use of the DSCH motif in his

later works shows less and less fear of repercussion. This motif is also featured, along with the
betrayal motif, in Shostakovich‟s Cello Concerto No. 2, Op. 126, composed in 1966.

Interestingly enough, MacDonald employs us to think of this personal mark as dialogue between

Shostakovich and death.

Such outburst of fury, though frequent in the late period, none the less emerge from a

deeper background of detached inaction and silence. As Shostakovich gradually retires

into himself, the axis of tension shifts away from the earthly war of good and evil

towards a dialogue between himself and death (MacDonald 236).

He also makes another strong case for the lack of sociopolitical influence on Shostakovich‟s later

works.

Similarly, though aggressive two-note phrases still occur –notably in the violently

virtuoso second movement of the Violin Sonata, written during the Soviet invasion of

Czechoslovakia in 1968 –they are more commonly present as drily impotent gestures (as

in the first movement of the Twelfth Quartet) or short winded grumbling (throughout the

Viola Sonata). In fac, by far the commonest form of two-ness in Shostakovich‟s late

music consists of monotonous oscillatory figures, usually semitonal, which distil what

once stood for Stalin into a general, life-denying dreariness (MacDonald 236).

One can see from these musings on the DSCH theme that it is indeed a personal gesture, and the

lack of evidence supporting political connotations leaves us to understand the music as a

personal joke or ambiguous stream of consciousness from the composer. Is this stream of

consciousness then indeed a reason for the second most popular thematic study in the Tenth? The

Elmira motif.
I merely want to discuss the Elmira theme for its ridiculous place in musicology. David Hurwitz

says it best, and most hilariously:

This horn call has occasioned some controversy in the Shostakovich literature. It has been

suggested that it represents yet another sort of musical acronym, that of Elmira Nazirova,

a Russian composer with whom Shostakovich was supposedly enamored during the

composition of the symphony. Aside from the alphabetical and linguistic contortions

necessary to substantiate this theory, it demonstrates with singular point the

worthlessness of so much Shostakovich scholarship. Even if this motive does stand for

Elmira, what does it add to our understanding of the music‟s expressive meaning? The

answer is: Nothing. Furthermore, on two of its twelve repetitions over the course of the

movement, it has six notes instead of five. Did Shostakovich forget Elmira‟s middle

initial? Never mind. The motive does, however, sound like the principal idea from John

Williams‟ score to Close Encounters of the Third Kind (Hurwitz 130).

I would agree with Hurwitz in saying that even if this motif does stand for Elmira, it does not add

anything to helping us figure out what this symphony is about. If anything, it cheapens it. The

Elmira motif is that of E l(a) mi r(e) a. (See Example Two) While this is interesting in studying

musical acronyms, within the context of the symphony it truly does not give us anything new to

understand –and maybe that is the point. Perhaps it‟s just another Shostakovich joke. As can be

read about, he was quite mocking of musicologists and critics‟ analyses of his works.

In the compilation of studies of Shostakovich by David Fanning, Fanning opens up with a

brilliant introduction. In this introduction he explains Shostakovich‟s own thoughts on

musicology and somehow justifies analysis of his works even though it was despised by the

composer.

What is a musicologist? Shostakovich offered his definition over breakfast: „What‟s a

musicologist? I‟ll tell you. Our cook, Pasha, prepared the scrambled eggs for us and we

are eating them. Now imagine a person who did not cook the eggs and does not eat them,

but talks about them –that is a musicologist.‟ (Fanning 1)

Clearly Shostakovich did not care what people had to say or thought of his pieces. Only under

the oppression of Stalin was he somewhat cautious of his actions. It is my personal belief that

Shostakovich is probably laughing at us trying to analyze music that has no substantial evidence,

or at least no evidence rooted from the mouth of the composer himself. It is interesting, albeit,

pointless to attempt to create a story out of thin air, or in this case, four note themes. The

substantial part of Shostakovich scholarship lies in the analysis of compositional techniques. In

all honesty, can we say that if he had written these works outside of Soviet Russia we would be

as interested in the sociopolitical aspects? Studying Shostakovich means understanding his

tongue-in-cheek way of dancing around human thought. The study of acronymic themes in this

work, and others is indeed a gateway into the composer‟s mind, but into the part of him that can

take such a simple idea and rework it for use in countless other ways. In conclusion, departure

from guessing is undoubtedly needed, until perhaps someone uncovers textual evidence of

stronger meanings.
Example One

Example Two
 Works Cited

Blokker, Roy. Shostakovich The Symphonies. London: Tantivy Press, 1979. Print.

Fanning, David. Shostakovich Studies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Print.

Hurwitz, David. Shostakovich Symphonies and Concertos. Pompton Plains: Amadeus Press,

2006. Print.

MacDonald, Ian. The New Shostakovich. Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1990. Print.

Ottaway, Hugh. Shostakovich Symphonies. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1978. Print.

Sheinberg, Esti. Irony, Satire, Parody and the Grotesque in the Music of Shostakovich.

Burlington: Ashgate Publishing Limited, 2000. Print.