Liner Notes #15: Beliefs and Applied Dissonance
I first encountered Shostakovich’s fifth symphony in high school, when I occupied the pianist position at the Greater Princeton Youth Orchestra. Our conductor, Fernando SurnameI’veForgotten, was young and quite full of passion and thus when he picked the final movement of the fifth symphony, none of us were surprised. We’d already done Ginastera’s suite of dances from Estancia and Fernando knew he had a strong group of young musicians. We also did Copland’s Rodeo (that’s a story for another time; essentially, no, I was never going to be a percussionist and Rodeo just solidified that), but it was the Shostakovich that drew me into the world of symphonic music and held me there.
The fifth is one of those pieces that’s been hotly debated from its premiere to present day. It is, to me, a piece that encapsulates the idea of doublespeak, especially in the final movement, which seems on the surface to be straightforward until you learn about the circumstances that led Shostakovich to write it. The fifth was composed after almost career-ruining criticism in Pravda, the mouthpiece of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. This was supposed to be his piece demonstrating that he’d learned from his mistakes and would write music that was more representative of the Soviet identity.
Shockingly, the piece premiered to instant acclaim from officials and the public alike, and somehow, both the officials and the public took away opposing interpretations of the work. Officials believed that the uplifting ending was the correct portrayal of Soviet quintessence. The public heard, in the lamenting of the strings and the calculated dissonance in the final march, Shostakovich voicing the truth over the lies, that he was being forced into compliance, that all was not well. Someone, I can’t remember who, described the ending as sounding like speaking praise while crying and being beaten, or something like it.
It certainly sounded like that to me as I sat at the keyboard, hammering away at high As while part of the orchestra hit the B-flat above. In Western music, there’s nothing more dissonant than a minor 2nd, which is what you get when you pair the A with the B-flat. It’s like the feeling of accidentally scraping your teeth together. The inverse of that minor 2nd, the major 7th, is the music that accompanies the shower scene in Psycho.
Shostakovich, whose friends and colleagues had been executed by the Stalin regime, whose family members had been arrested and sent to prison camps, who, under pressure from the government, had to denounce and condemn fellow composers, who himself had been taken in for interrogation, could not have made himself clearer with the composition of the fifth. He references the Russian Orthodox Church, scenes from Boris Godunov, puts in shrieking dissonance to wreck the march at the end before stepping back in line for the final chord. The audience wept as the third movement, the adagio, went on. And yet the Soviet officials present at the performance were pleased with the work as a whole.
This is what I believe we’re heading for in the next four years as today, January 20, 2025, convicted felon, serial sex pest, eugenicist, and rapist Donald Trump is sworn in as the next president of the United States of America.
I don’t think it’s any accident that, as I stood in line at the café this morning, I thought specifically of Russian music and the brave resistance built in under Shostakovich’s pen. This regime is inextricably linked to Russian oligarchs, Russian money, Russian corruption, Russian disinformation campaigns. It is concerning, right now, to watch the second iteration of what I thought to be the worst administration ever turn more forcefully toward the Third Reich; now that Trump has what he wants from Russia and the US, it’s like he’s gone hands off and mask completely off and is letting the worst of the worst drive the bus.
And our government is complying. Whatever resistance the Trump administration faced in term one has now, but for a few islands here and there, disappeared, worn down or given enough money to shut up and capitulate. It wasn’t safe before. It’s even less safe now.
Doublespeak is our future. But I hope that we can still hold fast in our beliefs—being good people, helping one another, working to make the world and our future a more just and equitable place, freeing ourselves from the rat race of money and power where no one but the biggest bullies win, protecting those who need it most—and dig in to survive what’s coming next. Even if, sometimes, your survival means saying what’s expected of you, you can still throw in that B-flat to let everyone know you’re not done fighting.
There’s so much heaped upon us now that it’s not possible for one mind to comprehend everything. As many others have said, pick your battles. Pick one or two causes to champion. There are many. Eight years ago, when this administration first came to power, historian Sarah Kendzior said we should write down what we believe in so that, as time wore on, we could have a reminder of what we were like when it all started. In November of 2016, I started a new journal, and on the first page, I wrote, “2016 IS THE WORST YEAR EVER.”
Oof.
(On the back of that page is a series of notes and talking points for phone calls to my representatives. We contain multitudes.)
But here I am again in 2025, writing on a day that feels like the final ounce dropped on a supporting wall before it crumbles. Still, we go on: I bought a paper planner for the first time and am using it. I am documenting my everyday life and writing notes and observations. I am keeping my information away from the tech companies whose goals are to turn us into such mindless consumers that they can get away with selling ourselves back to us while rolling in the fuck-you money they got by destroying the environment and fomenting genocides. I am, this time, going to write down what I believe in, because my beliefs have not changed since 2016, and I see no reason why my beliefs should change now.
I had my first lesson in a long time with a new teacher this morning, and it’s only reinforced to me that now, more than ever, we need to be connected. We need to communicate with one another; we need to sit together and learn about who’s in the room with us. We are far more alike than we are different, for the most part, and the only way to build a lasting resistance and a cultural memory for the values we hold is to talk to each other and go forward together (in this, I do feel a bit naive as there are certain people I’d leave on their roofs during a flood, but, you know, I’m human too and definitely not a pacifist).
That connection stretches not just through space but also through time. Authoritarians hate history and education because they are empowering tools for the masses, and the worst thing for an authoritarian is a public uprising rooted in knowledge and shared values. I won’t give any recommendations for history books or historians to follow because I have none. Also, the cult of personality is amplified in our digital sphere and I have zero desire to play into it; ultimately, I do think that virality and large follower counts changes a person, and I won’t contribute to it (see also: post-Ferguson grifters). I think it’s worth our time to journal and write recollections and, even if it’s just for personal reference, have an archive of what we’re living through and what we’ve lived through. To get us back to who we are and not lose ourselves to survival creep.
If you’ve reached the end here, thanks for sticking with me through the rambles. I had no plan for the newsletter today, only that I wanted to put something out there for the extremely shitty occasion. Music links are below. Stay skeptical. Sing your B-flats as loud as you can. Write letters to your friends. Find a pen pal, maybe. And always punch the fucking Nazis.
See you on the B-side.
Shostakovich Symphony no. 5 in D minor, movement IV, Allegro non troppo, New York Philharmonic, conducted by Leonard Bernstein (noting that he ignores the “non troppo” and goes extremely fast in this recording, which only contributes to the frenzy of the movement. No one else goes this fast.)
Ginastera’s Dances from Estancia, New World Symphony, conducted by Michael Tilson Thomas
Soul Glo, Tiny Desk Concert (we need hardcore and punk more than ever now)
https://youtu.be/uA5hf_94Ffc?si=EOFBwzO_41E8YIeQBrahms Piano Concerto no. 1 in D minor, movement II, Adagio, played by Glenn Gould and conducted by Leonard Bernstein. At the other end of the tempo spectrum is Glenn Gould insisting this concerto be played at a snail’s tempo and Bernstein almost losing his mind because of it. But I think there are many beautiful things still in this world—this morning’s brisk chill brought me joy—and this slow movement is, while agonizing to some, sublime to me in its use of space and dissonance. Listen to how Gould hovers weightless on that high G in the opening melody. Gorgeous.
https://youtu.be/zuxPKikM0NI?si=P8HawA7P5ZFEpuER&t=1801