Because records are an acceptable form of currency...
In the opening scenes of S2, Aziraphale welcomes Maggie’s payment of Shostakovich records in lieu of rent. And while we as the viewer have the opportunity to diegetically enjoy symphony no. 5 upon Azirapahle’s return to his bookshop, the angel leaves The Small Back Room with a whole stack of 78’s. Symphony no. 5, composed in four parts, would take up both the A and B sides of two 78’s, which leaves me to wonder what other Shostakovich pieces Aziraphale might have brought back to his shop to forgive Maggie’s long-overdue rent.
Shostakovich composed symphony no. 5 in 1937 after being scrutinized under Stalin’s cultural microscope. He publicly described the work as “a Soviet artist’s reply to just criticism,” since dissent under Stalin’s regime was dangerous and Schotakovich lived in constant fear of being erased from existence, along with his loved ones. Both thorough and wide-sweeping, the Soviet cultural purges of the 1930s comprised everything from Gulag imprisonment and execution to the suppression and eradication of artists and intellectuals deemed to be disloyal. There’s an easy thread to follow connecting symphony no. 5’s history to S2’s driving threat that aiding Gabriel is punishable by erasure from the Book of Life. In either instance, opposition to the party line carries the risk of disastrous consequences.
So what of those other records? For my money, I’m going to bet that the angel also took the Suite for Jazz Orchestra no. 2 and the Gadfly Suite.
Suite for Jazz Orchestra, not to be confused with a similar piece by the same composer from 1934, has a fascinating story of being lost for decades, after the original manuscript was scattered. Though it was composed in 1938, the full suite premiered outside of Moscow for the first time at The Proms in London in 2000. The process of gathering the diasporadic parts of the manuscript recalls Jimbriel’s character arc, in which he needs to literally re-member himself to be complete. However, the disordered quality of Jazz Suite also alludes to the various points of view through which we experience S2. Except for the flashbacks, S1 has an omniscient narrator, and there’s no suggestion that God is unreliable in what she chooses to tell her audience–her unreliability is in what she withholds, but that’s a meta for another day. Conversely, S2 renders multiple perspectives to present an inherently inconsistent account. Things are not always as they seem, and the visual text of S2 demonstrates this over and over, from the erratic time-keeping of Aziraphale’s grandfather clock to Bildad the Shuhite’s mercurial wig.
But it’s the Gadfly Suite that could lay the foundation for the narrative of S3. This piece is part of a score written for the 1955 Soviet film, The Gadfly, based on Voynich’s 1897 novel of the same name. Unabashedly romantic throughout its run, the Gadfly Suite features a single violin that carries the melody (sometimes viola, depending on the orchestration). But at one point, the violin’s voice breaks into what’s more a polyphonic melody than Shostakovich’s usual harmonies. It’s almost fugue-like in its pattern, and by the end of the piece, the two voices have rejoined into a single melody.
Let’s break this down.
The singular melodic voice in the opening of the Gadfly Suite aligns with Crowley and Aziraphale’s relational arc in S2, which unites a demon and angel on their own side. For the first time in 6000 years, they’re operating as an “Us.” I can hear you squabbling, “Athena, what about The Arrangement?” What about it? The Arrangement is transactional by design, and for as dangerous as it is, such an agreement allows for plausible deniability. The relationship that develops throughout S2 is anything but transactional (except for the apology dance, but I’d argue that’s more ritualized than transactional). Angel and demon inhabit one another’s company with no further excuse beyond the comfort and enjoyment of being together.
Until the Final Fifteen.
In a quarter turn of the clock, the Metraon's oblique manipulation tactics shatter the peaceful, fragile existence Crowley and Aziraphale have built together since the Apocalypse That Wasn’t. Angel and demon are now set on different paths, like a melody rent asunder. But though their paths are temporarily disjointed, I think it’s safe to assume that they’ll be on the same trajectory, like polyphonic melodies that complement and elevate one another, while each remaining true to its own unique voicing.
The final phrases of the Gadfly Suite reunite the melodies into one clear voice, a passionate and almost keening declaration that hovers an octave above the rest of the orchestra. Just as the melody resolves into a unified tune, I think it’s safe to say that S3 will culminate in Aziraphale and Crowley working together with an aligned and singular purpose. No apology dance necessary.
Go listen to Shosatakovich, kids. No time like the present to buck against a fascist regime. Or, y’know, to fall irrevocably in love with your hereditary enemy. Same thing, really.
