Shostakovich Premi

Just before Soviet Violinist David Oistrakh left for his first visit to the U.S., he played the world premiere of a new concerto dedicated to him by top Soviet Composer Dimitry Shostakovich. That was in Leningrad, last October. In Manhattan's Carnegie Hall last week the violinist gave the composition its U.S. premiere with the Philharmonic-Symphony, conducted by Dimitri Mitropoulos. It turned out to be one of Shostakovich's most powerful works and the finest violin concerto to reach New York since World War II.

Mitropoulos, who usually conducts from memory, opened the score, apparently in deference to Oistrakh's nerves. The violin entered almost at once, spinning out a long, yearning melody in a rhythm that was at once syncopated and plodding. Violinist Oistrakh applied his tight, concise tone to it. He revealed it, at its best, as a line of high eloquence, although sometimes it was merely a dry-throated recitation. Later, the movement rose to a shuddering gong-burst of sound, and both orchestra and soloist glided into a barely comprehensible maneuver that slid to a high, fine-drawn conclusion.

Well-knit Work. The rippling second movement gave no clear idea of tonal home base, but it developed a comic effect as it progressed through subtly different rhythms. The third movement, again in pensive tempo, gave the soloist another long melody that breathed nostalgically of twilight among ruins, then let it sigh into a noontime atmosphere with a passage in octaves, then into a recitative of murmurous beauty, where Oistrakh's instrument spoke in unevenly repeated notes. The solo cadenza started with simple triads in different keys, then confronted them with each other in a clashing dissonance, then became more brusque, urgent and uneasy until it opened directly into the finale, an energetic Russian dance.

On the seventh curtain call, Conductor Mitropoulos took the score from its stand and held it aloft as if to give Composer Shostakovich his share of the applause.

He deserved it. For Shostakovich's Op. 99 is a composition that abandons the brooding effects, dark colors and heavy textures of traditional Russian orchestral music and his own brassy idiom for a broader expression that puts him firmly among top 20th century composers. It is a position he has been promising to occupy ever since his Symphony No. i crashed onto the scene in 1926, when he was 19. During the '20s and '30s, his work was notably uneven, as he tried to follow the musical party line. In the early war years --when he made headlines because he stood duty as a fire fighter in Leningrad--he completed his highly touted Symphony No. 7, which in fact was a ragtag and feeble--though thunderous--work. But Shostakovich's new Concerto is strong and well-knit--particularly as played by Violinist Oistrakh.

Almost as Fat. Even before playing the Concerto, Violinist Oistrakh cut a swath of awe and good will in the U.S., and he will carry a bag of swag with him when he goes home this week (his gross fees amount to about $100,000). Originally, he thought he would spend his profits on an American car, but in the end he decided he would rather buy a violin, if he could find one he liked (he has a fine collection). Most of his recent spare time has gone into testing instruments. As a novelty, he teamed up with Isaac Stern and the Philadelphia Orchestra to record a Vivaldi double concerto ("Stern is almost as good a fiddler as I am because he is almost as fat!").

Oistrakh leaves behind him the reputation of a great and intensely serious musician. He showed, particularly with the playing of the Shostakovich Concerto, that Russia's deep talent for music is still alive.

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