Dmitri Shostakovich (1906–1975) was a Russian composer who lived under the intense scrutiny of the Soviet regime. His Symphony No. 5, composed in the summer of 1937, was written in response to Soviet officials’ demands for a work that was accessible, upheld the values of the Union, and celebrated the working class. To meet these expectations, the symphony was expected to avoid excessive complexity and dramatic content, incorporating folk-like melodies and an optimistic character.

The symphony premiered in Leningrad with the Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra under Yevgeny Mravinsky, receiving an overwhelming thirty-minute standing ovation. However, international critics were skeptical, questioning whether this was truly the best that the leading Russian composer of the time could offer. It was only years later that hidden subversive elements within the symphony became apparent—subtle musical codes that expressed defiance against the regime, largely unnoticed at the time.

The symphony is in D minor. Despite official expectations, the first movement is highly dramatic, beginning with a motif that recalls the opening of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony—also in D minor. What better way to symbolize Soviet ideals than by referencing a quintessentially German theme? A key moment in the movement is the trumpet fanfare/march, which is deliberately ambiguous, oscillating between celebration and unease.

The second movement, “Allegretto,” is a sharp, biting satire lasting just four minutes. Inspired by Mahler’s wry humor, this scherzo defies symphonic tradition—not only by appearing as the second movement instead of the third, but also by blending march-like motives with a dance-like ternary form, reinforcing its satirical character.

The third movement is not the expected triumphant slow movement but a profound lament. It is a deeply introspective and sorrowful hymn, led by the strings, conveying suffering and resignation. The xylophone and piano—uncommon choices for such an emotional movement—are used to heighten the intensity of pain and mourning.

The finale bursts forth with an overwhelming wall of sound, introducing the most straightforward symphonic movement Shostakovich had written up to that point. The tempo and orchestration steadily intensify, building toward a dramatic and energetic first half. Midway through, the mood shifts once again to introspection, preparing for the colossal coda that unexpectedly shifts to D major. While this ending may seem like a victorious conclusion in line with Soviet propaganda, many interpret it as something entirely different—a triumph not of the state, but of the people, advocating for their resilience and ultimate freedom.

Program notes by Juan Domínguez