The Seventh is arguably Shostakovich’s most Mahlerian symphony, so it comes as no surprise that Bernard Haitink conducts in a manner similar to his later Mahler recordings. This is a big, cushy performance in which everything is beautifully upholstered, and every bump and rough edge is smoothed out–sort of like riding in a Cadillac. Problem is, Shostakovich just wasn’t a cushy kind of guy, and there’s nothing comfy about the Leningrad symphony. Granted, it’s not the hell-for-leather mayhem that characterizes the Eleventh, but it certainly works best with a bit of rawness in the mix. The Leningrad Philharmonic under Jansons, with all its super-precision still produces sharp edges in the more dramatic passages, while Bernstein’s mighty performance with the Chicago Symphony threatens to beat us into submission with a deafening sonic onslaught. Haitink is more concerned with solemnity than spectacle, and to his credit this 1981 reading (finely played by the London Philharmonic) did lend an air of respectability to what was generally considered a lurid pot-boiler of a symphony at the time. The early Decca digital recording also provided a new degree of transparency on disc, though today it sounds just a bit glassy.
