The slow movement of Miaskovsky's Eleventh Symphony is just what I mean by hints (see above) ''that he was capable of masterpieces''. It is a lovely piece, lyrically Russian but with a cool poise that can recall one of Sibelius's moods, and with some particularly effective woodwind writing, tender and liquid (at the heart of the movement is a flowing fugato for woodwind soloists alone). A pity about that quite unmotivated climax just before the end; the rest of the movement has real quality. There is a splendidly Russian tune in the last movement, too, and some resourceful dramatic working-out that only occasionally becomes melodramatic: does it matter that Miaskovsky gives us two develop- ments for the price of one? I am afraid it does, rather; eminently resourceful though he is, his material is more often histrionically juxtaposed than truly developed, and his movements are often organically unsatisfying: nothing would seem amiss if the coda to that finale arrived three or four minutes earlier than it does, or if the first movement of the same symphony ended with a whimper rather than a clamorous bang.
Still, one can always enjoy the enjoyable bits and leave the rest, and there are quite a few bits to enjoy. As well as about 95 per cent of that Andante they include the long and very beautiful opening paragraph of the Fifth Symphony: a smiling, flowing clarinet theme over warm string chords (to keep you listening it returns again after the tur- bulent but rather intermittent allegro proper and another of Miaskovsky's fugatos—he was rather good at them, but should have rationed himself to no more than one per symphony). The slow movement of the Fifth begins and ends well, too: plaintive woodwind phrases over cold string shivers lead to a melancholy, archaic Russian theme (there are two noisy climaxes and another fugato between its recurrences). And the folk-dance scherzo is attractive, saved from mere picturesqueness by its clean, scoring and spare harmony. The finale is less characterful, and builds its resplendently vociferous chorale-coda with less than total conviction; here and in the opening Allegro of the Eleventh, striking ideas are juxtaposed with commonplace ones that seem to have strayed from a film score. But a Miaskovsky masterpiece still seems possible; the Thirteenth and Sixteenth are highly spoken of by Western as well as by Soviet critics.
The performances are good, but the recording of the Fifth Symphony is not: the sound is extremely close-focused, with coarse, harsh tuttis. The Eleventh fares better, though the woodwind are still unnaturally close.
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