Three Preludes and Fugues

in C major, Op.87, No.1

in G major, Op.87, No.3

in E minor, Op.87, No.4

One of the most extraordinary and least celebrated of achievements in twentieth-century piano music is Shostakovich’s feat of writing not only two sets of twenty-four preludes but also twenty-four magnificent fugues to go with the second of them. The Twenty-Four Preludes, Op.34, of 1933 are in direct succession to those of Chopin, Scriabin and Rachmaninov. The Twenty-Four Preludes and Fugues, Op.87, that Shostakovich wrote eighteen years later are a tribute to no one other than J.S. Bach.

“I wrote this work from October to February of this year,” Shostakovich declared to an inimical audience of the Soviet Union of Composers in 1951. “What was my aim? The first circumstance which stimulated me was my visit to the Bach celebrations in Leipzig. Hearing so much of Bach’s music prompted me to creat something in this genre.” The Bach precedent did nothing to prevent the work being condemned as “formalistic,” however, and it was only through the dedicated efforts of the pianist Tatyana Nikolayeva - who has been associated with the work ever since - that it was accepted as worthy of publication a year later.

The first Prelude in the set is a frank statement of Shostakovich’s intentions. On the one hand, as it begins in plain C major in the manner of a chaconne, it clearly alludes to the manner of J.S. Bach. On the other hand, as it goes on and as some quite unexpected dissonances are put in its way, it no less clearly indicates that Shostakovich is also going to be himself here, however incongruous his harmonies might seem. Any doubts as to his seriousness should be dispelled by the serene and masterfully proportioned four-part fugue that follows, with not one accidental and nothing in the least sensational in well over a hundred bars.

Another feature that might have been influential in reconciling the Soviet Union of Composers to a work designed primarily to appeal to the intellect, or even to challenge it, is the peculiarly Russian quality that emerges from time to time. The G major Prelude, for example, sounds like a deliberately heavy-handed tribute to Mussorgsky, reminiscent perhaps of the Two Polish Jews in Pictures at an Exhibition in its ponderous first theme, its more voluble second theme and the eventual combination of the two.The G major Fugue, scored for three voices in very quick 6/8 time, is as lively as the Prelude is deliberate.

Something of the shape of the second theme of the G major Prelude survives in the succession of even quavers persisting between the slow moving bass and the expressive melodic line in the Prelude in E minor. One of the most lyrical Preludes in the set, with its almost Chopinesque modulation to A flat major towards the end, it is paired with one of the most imposing of the Fugues - a double fugue in four voices with a slow first theme, a quicker second theme in B minor and a splendid climactic moment where the two are brought together in E minor at the quicker tempo.

in G major, Op.87, No.3

in E minor, Op.87, No.4

in D minor, Op.87, No.24

One of the most extraordinary and least celebrated of achievements in twentieth-century piano music is Shostakovich’s feat of writing not only two sets of twenty-four preludes but also twenty-four magnificent fugues to go with the second of them. The Twenty-Four Preludes, Op.34, of 1933 are in direct succession to those of Chopin, Scriabin and Rachmaninov. The Twenty-Four Preludes and Fugues, Op.87, that Shostakovich wrote eighteen years later are a tribute to no one other than J.S. Bach.

“I wrote this work from October to February of this year,” Shostakovich declared to an inimical audience of the Soviet Union of Composers in 1951. “What was my aim? The first circumstance which stimulated me was my visit to the Bach celebrations in Leipzig. Hearing so much of Bach’s music prompted me to creat something in this genre.” The Bach precedent did nothing to prevent the work being condemned as “formalistic,” however, and it was only through the dedicated efforts of the pianist Tatyana Nikolayeva - who has been associated with the work ever since - that it was accepted as worthy of publication a year later.

One feature that might have been influential in reconciling the Soviet Union of Composers to a work designed primarily to appeal to the intellect, or even to challenge it, is the peculiarly Russian quality that emerges from time to time. The G major Prelude, for example, sounds like a deliberately heavy-handed tribute to Mussorgsky, reminiscent perhaps of the Two Polish Jews in Pictures at an Exhibition in its ponderous first theme, its more voluble second theme and the eventual combination of the two.The G major Fugue, scored for three voices in very quick 6/8 time, is as lively as the Prelude is deliberate.

Something of the shape of the second theme of the G major Prelude survives in the succession of even quavers persisting between the slow moving bass and the expressive melodic line in the Prelude in E minor. One of the most lyrical Preludes in the set, with its almost Chopinesque modulation to A flat major towards the end, it is paired with one of the most imposing of the Fugues - a double fugue in four voices with a slow first theme, a quicker second theme in B minor and a splendid climactic moment where the two are brought together in E minor at the quicker tempo.

The last pair of pieces in the Op.87 set is also the longest and the most impressive. Introduced by a Prelude with a first half of corresponding grandeur (and of unmistakably Bachian affiliations), the D minor Fugue is based not on the opening material but on the comparatively modest second theme which emerges in plain harmonies later in the Prelude. So, proceeding at the Moderato tempo natural to this placid main theme, the Fugue seems not particularly ambitious at first. But then, with a change of tempo to Accelerando poco a poco and the entry of an agitated second theme, it develops into another four-voiced double fugue, this one constructed on nothing less than symphonic proportions.