So much in the opening paragraph of Shostakovich’s Eighth Symphony mirrors the Fifth: only it’s the dark side of the equation, the initial string declamation – the sound of defiance – giving way to a second idea where the rocking accompaniment (so redolent of the Fifth) would be reassuring if it weren’t so anxious. I’ve often wondered if these parallels were intentional, as in this time I’m going to tell it as it really is and pay no heed to those who would demand an optimistic, even triumphant, ending. There is no triumphalism, no Leningrad-like celebration of a nation’s fortitude in this score’s pages. Some of Shostakovich’s bleakest utterances reside here.

Gennadi Rozhdestvensky and the London Philharmonic Orchestra communicate a tangible sense of authenticity in what is a tense live performance from 1983. The physical and spiritual tinta of the music is drawn in suitably unadorned colours, raw in resistance, pallid in desolation. It isn’t always quite as tight as one might like – the ugly moto perpetuo of the third movement could have been notched a bit in terms of its trenchancy, though details like the raucousness of the trumpet and side drum in the Trio most certainly hit the spot, as do those seismic climaxes with their rolling percussion upheavals. There is, as there should be, a frightening release of energy in those passages – and the sound is not at all bad for its vintage, with more than sufficient heft where bass drum and tam-tam threaten to knock the civilised world off its axis.

Rozhdestvensky could be a comical as well as laid-back character on the podium and the wryness of his clowning really comes through in the Allegretto second movement, where the little fife and drum idea grows progressively more malicious – but still with a smile. The eternal passacaglia of the the fourth-movement Largo is possessed of great weariness and it’s here that one realises how much of this marvellous work’s outrage is communicated quietly. Its wonderful closing bars offer a modicum of solace but the darkness prevails. I’ve a feeling that this is one of those performances where the atmosphere in the hall will have added immeasurably to its impact – but there’s still no denying its intensity and echt Russianism.