Orchestra, Conductor Master Epic Shostakovich Symphony

Even if Dmitri If Shostakovich’s Tenth Symphony had not emerged in a highly political context, it would still be a controversial work. Considered to be acme of the composer’s prolific symphonic canon, the hourlong piece relentlessly probes the tragic side of human experience without Mahler’s mitigating sentimentality or Sibelius’ moody introspection.

Shostakovich’s telling symphony, his first musical statement after the terrors of the Stalin era, makes significant demands on both performer and listener. Thursday evening at Symphony Hall, it appeared that the San Diego Symphony under the expert guidance of guest conductor Leonid Grin was more eager for this musical and existential challenge than was its restless, ever-diminishing audience. At least the local grumblers could take heart that, by expressing their disapproval, they placed themselves in the same category as the dreary Communist Party hacks who condemned Shostakovich’s modest dissonances and formal irregularities when the Tenth Symphony was first played in Leningrad in 1953. Strange bedfellows, indeed.

Grin, who conducted the work from memory, paid Shostakovich the maximum compliment. He shaped the symphony with evident admiration, keeping its inner tension tightly wound, while savoring the intermittent moments of melting lyricism. His interpretation of the broad opening movement plumbed its angst-ridden depths, while the angular scherzo flew by without a hint of malevolence. Although the 40-year-old Russian emigre conductor was not as demonstrative on the podium as some of his Soviet colleagues, his disciplined beat combined warmth and elegance.

The orchestra responded with ample power and conviction to Grin’s vision. Although the low strings and winds won laurels for their cohesive, determined thrust, the horns did not prove up to the mighty challenges in their highest register. Perhaps the vigor the San Diego musicians mustered for this work can be attributed to having endured the rigors of the orchestra’s recent crisis years.

Only a week ago, Salvatore Accardo, the scheduled soloist for the Paganini First Violin Concerto, canceled because of illness. If his replacement, 26-year-old Alexander Markov, did not deliver Accardo’s wonted security in this violinist’s nightmare of a concerto, he offered a persuasive, youthful assault on its myriad feats of technical display. Like Grin, Markov is a Russian emigre. His sound was light and flexible, although he exhibited the wide vibrato and occasional unexpected portamento of the old Russian school of violin-playing. Markov plowed through cascades of notes with aplomb, although at times his pitch wavered and his execution of harmonics proved his least secure trick. Neither Grin nor the orchestra was completely unified in the concerto’s admittedly perfunctory accompaniment.

Grin opened the concert with a boisterous rendition of Dvorak’s “Carnival” Overture, taken a bit too briskly, however, for the comfort of the orchestra. The program will be repeated at 8 tonight in Symphony Hall.