Shostakovich, Who "Outwitted" Time: The Great Composer’s Universe Revealed at the Russian House in Ashgabat
In the realm of art, there are towering figures whose very presence evokes a sense of awe at the sheer scale of their inner freedom. The 120th anniversary of Dmitri Dmitrievich Shostakovich is precisely such an occasion—one that compels us to set aside the routine business of musical scores and truly listen to the sound of time itself.
As a composer and musicologist, I often find myself thinking that we have become too accustomed to viewing Shostakovich through the lens of a somber, tragic monumentalism. Yet his genius transcends all stereotypes and boundaries: he could be ironic, fragile, paradoxical, and disarmingly childlike. It was this very universe—alive, breathing, and rich in striking contrasts—that was unveiled during the concert held at the Russian House in Ashgabat. For me, the evening was more than just a matter of professional interest; it was an opportunity to witness how classical rigor gives way to pure musical freedom, uniting the country’s seasoned masters and its youngest musicians on a single stage.
The program was built upon the subtle—and at times diametrically opposed—contrasts that Shostakovich himself so loved. The evening opened with vocal works that allowed the audience to feel the pulse of living history. Honored Artist of Turkmenistan Leyli Okdirova, performing alongside pianist and international competition laureate Stella Faramazova, presented two gems from the famous vocal cycle "Spanish Songs": "Farewell, Granada!" and "Little Stars."
The genesis of this cycle resembles a remarkable, almost cinematic story: the renowned singer Zara Dolukhanova passed on to the composer authentic folk melodies she had once heard from a Spaniard who had arrived in the Soviet Union as a child during the Spanish Civil War. Shostakovich, possessed of a phenomenal creative instinct, immediately produced brilliant arrangements for voice and piano.
The performers succeeded in capturing that delicate, vital pulse; in their interpretation, the songs unfolded in striking contrast, revealing the true Spanish spirit to the audience. As a composer, I resonate with this idea—taking an intonation caught from life itself and transforming it into pure art, while preserving its pristine sincerity.
Following the Spanish-inspired pieces, Okdirova and Faramazova presented the audience with a work of an entirely different scale and destiny: the legendary "Song of the Counterplan." Set to lyrics by Boris Kornilov, this cheerful, soaring melody was composed by a 25-year-old Shostakovich for the first Soviet sound film and instantly became a resounding hit. Yet, its true greatness was revealed during the turbulent years of World War II, when the song transcended all geographical and ideological boundaries, evolving into the international "United Nations March"—a symbol of humanity’s unwavering faith in a better future.
Listening to the performance by our artists, one cannot help but marvel at the purity and universality of Shostakovich’s melodic gift—a gift capable of uniting millions of people during history’s darkest times.
The vocal portion of the evening continued with People's Artist of Turkmenistan Gulnar Nuryeva, who presented the song "The Dream"—a profound, philosophical summation of the entire "Spanish Cycle." This piece is a delicate meditation on the illusory nature of human happiness. The song tells of a young man in love who dreams he is sailing a fishing boat across dangerous, unpredictable waves. The composer made a bold stylistic choice, blending the gentle swaying motion of an Italian barcarolle with a rich, authentically Spanish flavor.
Gulnar Nuryeva captured this duality with impeccable vocal mastery; in her interpretation, love emerged as a mighty, primal force capable of both saving and ruthlessly consuming the fragile human soul.
The instrumental segment of the concert revealed Shostakovich to the audience as a poet of childhood, a storyteller, and a master of subtle irony. Talented young flutist Emir Bayramgeldyev performed the miniatures "Lyrical Waltz" and "The Barrel Organ" from the famous children's cycle "Dances of the Dolls", which the composer had affectionately dedicated to his daughter, Galya.
The touching concept of toys from an old chest coming to life lies at the heart of these pieces. The soulful, airy music of the "Lyrical Waltz," performed by a flutist, instantly wove an atmosphere of pure childhood reverie throughout the hall, conjuring the image of a beautiful fairy doll twirling in an empty ballroom. It was a remarkable moment of spiritual cleansing: Shostakovich—known worldwide for his complex, intellectual, and dramatic symphonic works—here reveals himself as the creator of a melody of crystalline clarity and soaring grace.
To my mind, the fragile, artless sincerity of these children’s cycles holds a special, enduring value. There is no artifice in them—only a pure, unclouded view of the world.
The piece "The Hurdy-Gurdy," performed by Emir Bayramgeldiyev, presented a stark contrast—angular, brisk, and spirited. With his characteristic gentle humor, the composer captured the mechanical, slightly comical nature of this street instrument within the musical texture. While the "Lyrical Waltz" provided the program’s pure poetry, "The Hurdy-Gurdy" introduced a necessary element of mischief, playfulness, and genuine childish laughter.
A little later, the flutist returned to the stage with another piece from the same cycle—the "Waltz-Scherzo." This miniature work instantly stirred a wave of lively emotion in the audience. With exquisite precision, the music recreated the sound of a clockwork toy or an antique music box; towards the end, the "spring unwound" and the mechanism began to amusingly "jam," getting stuck on a single note—a touch that brought genuine smiles to the faces of those present. Shostakovich possessed a unique gift for musical humor, transforming formal instrumental genres into a form of living theater.
A special, highly anticipated highlight of the evening was the performance of the famous romance from the film "The Gadfly". It is arguably Dmitri Dmitrievich’s most recognizable and beloved lyrical work, having long since achieved worldwide renown independent of the film itself. The melody proved so universal and poignant that it continues to be performed on stages across the globe to this day, demonstrating that Shostakovich—a great philosopher—possessed the rare gift of reaching anyone's heart with just a few notes.
Violinist Seyran Ataniyazov, a laureate of international competitions, performed this masterpiece with incredible expressiveness, making the strings of his instrument literally speak to the audience. Later, he was joined by violinist Jemal Takhirova; their duet featured an elegant "Waltz" woven from the composer's light, theatrical melodies. On stage, the dialogue between the two violins transformed into a graceful, charming dance.
The program then took a sharp turn, plunging the audience back into the realm of vocal grotesque. Gulnar Nuryeva presented two contrasting songs from the cycle Satires—set to verses by the Silver Age poet Sasha Chorny—titled "Misunderstanding" and "The Kreutzer Sonata." To evade the watchful eye of Soviet censorship and mask dangerous parallels with contemporary life, Shostakovich employed a creative ruse, giving the cycle the innocuous subtitle "Pictures of the Past."
The first piece came across as a refined musical anecdote, sharply satirizing affected, hollow intellectualism. The cycle’s final movement, "The Kreutzer Sonata" — alluding to both Beethoven’s genius and Tolstoy’s tragic novella—was transformed by Gulnar Nuryeva into a veritable carnival. Shostakovich audaciously wove a direct quote from Beethoven’s masterpiece into the piano part, immediately juxtaposing it with the banal tune "Chizhik-Pyzhik" and a poignant romance by Rachmaninoff. It was a brilliant, almost palpable collision between high art and the mundane, delivered by the artist with stunning dramatic flair — both theatrical and vocal.
The evening’s grand, unifying finale was the performance of a cycle of five pieces for violin duet, comprising "Romance," "Waltz," "Gavotte," "Reminiscence," and "Polka." What makes this particularly remarkable and profound is the story behind the ensemble’s creation, for Dmitri Dmitrievich himself never actually assembled this cycle as a unified whole.
Much of the credit for these melodies gaining an independent life on the concert stage belongs to his brilliant friend—the composer, editor, and unsurpassed arranger Lev Atovmyan. Atovmyan possessed a rare, phenomenal gift: the ability to discern a monumental, classical quality within the functional genres of film and ballet music. Enjoying Shostakovich’s complete trust, Atovmyan undertook a titanic task: he painstakingly examined the composer’s scattered scores for films (such as "The Gadfly") and theatrical productions (such as "The Human Comedy"), isolated the key melodic motifs, and arranged them for violin duo and piano.
Atovmyan did not merely transcribe the notes; he created an independent dramatic structure imbued with the noble depth characteristic of a serious chamber ensemble.
Seyran Ataniyazov, Jemal Takhirova, and Stella Faramazova performed this cycle with perfect mutual understanding, transforming the mosaic of Atovmyan’s arrangements into a unified, breathing musical organism.
As the final chords of the concluding "Polka" faded away, a moment of precious silence hung beneath the hall’s vaulted ceiling. It was a moment when the sounds had dissolved, yet the space within each listener continued to vibrate and realign in response to what had been heard. Just an instant later, the hall erupted in applause.
As I left the Russian House and stepped out into the warm Ashgabat evening, I carried with me a lasting impression: this concert was no mere perfunctory tribute to the honoree. Thanks to the artistry of the performers, it stood as living proof that the keyboard of our shared cultural memory is functioning flawlessly, unerringly reproducing the most authentic human sentiments. Music is, after all, the finest software for the human soul—and from time to time, it needs an update to keep our hearts from growing callous.
Ayna Shirova
