Staatskapelle Berlin / Barenboim - Royal Festival Hall, 17 & 20 April 2012
The Barenboim circus rolled into London last week to perform Bruckner's last three symphonies under the grandiose banner (blame the Southbank Centre) of 'The Bruckner Project'.
| | |
|
Chicago Symphony Orchestra / Haitink - Royal Festival Hall, 24 September 2009
Playfulness doesn't come any more easily to Bernard Haitink than it does to Gordon Brown. But the effort made his 'Clock' Symphony a livelier affair than last night's Mozart. Still, the CSO need to let their hair down more to sparkle convincingly in Haydn.
Bruckner's Seventh employed the glacial perfection of the Chicago sound to better effect. Haitink is skilled in constructing these gigantic works inch by inch, brick by brick. His subtle shifts of dynamic and balance, his diligent observation of tempo markings like 'a little slower' might not register in a more wayward ensemble. But here every ripple on the cool glossy surface told its own story.
Bruckner is frequently accused of being repetitive and by extension, boring (was that the reason for the many empty seats?) And if you simply look at the notes, there's a certain truth in that. But Haitink adds nuance, whether it's reflecting myriad facets in the central motif in the opening Allegro or shimmering through the descending strings of the coda. He creates a momentum that's not a mad burst of energy but a stately, almost imperceptible glide to the finishing line. And that's what Bruckner's all about. As Jaap van Zweden so eloquently put it "it makes you clean inside".
| | |
|
"It is true that people respond more easily to Mahler. It is about emotions and people like that. When they go to the movies they like action. If it is a movie about beauty they will just go away. For me beauty is more important than emotion and action, and in my opinion that is what Bruckner is talking about and that is what Bach is talking about. If you listen to Bruckner and Bach it makes you clean inside. If you listen to Mahler you will be full of emotion and all kinds of thoughts. With Bruckner there is a line to God. With Mahler there is also a line to God but it has lots of sideways I would say."
Jaap van Zweden interviewed in La Scena Musicale.
| | |
|
Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra - Royal Festival Hall, 29 November 2008
A year ago, a Saturday night concert by the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra in the Royal Festival Hall might reasonably have been expected to sell out, or thereabouts.
It's a measure of the times, and no reflection on the orchestra itself, that there were swathes of empty seats. A couple of LPO concerts I've been to recently (and not had time to write up) have barely scraped half a house full - and that's even with twofer offers and giveaway student prices. So Mariss Jansons - the world's greatest conductor? - doesn't need to fear his crown is slipping. Though it does force me to wonder how much longer there'll be funding for visits from orchestras of this quality.
The opener was Mozart's Linz Symphony - half an hour of agreeableness programmed on the slightly limp grounds that it's named after Bruckner’s hometown. Executed neatly and without any hint of preciousness, it nevertheless remained rather earthbound. Untransported, I entertained myself observing the Jansons baton technique - flicked crisply in the right hand in tricky timekeeping spots, replaced by wafty hands for a bit of cantabile, and tucked efficiently in the left hand in between.
Bruckner’s Fourth Symphony was another matter altogether. The BRSO somehow combine American-style slick technique with unfettered expressivity to produce a sound that's refined but never sanitised. Strings are warm and dark, winds immaculate, brass imposing but never blaring. Individual virtuosity was highlighted in the tricky first horn part, stamina also, and the white-haired soloist justly received a massive ovation as he humbly took his applause. A single unfortunate trumpet squawk, far from detracting, only highlighted the surrounding perfection.
Mariss Jansons could take his musicians from the shivering pianissimo of the opening bars to the thundering peaks of the scherzo with the assurance of a dressage rider on a perfectly-schooled horse. In his hands the monumental structure was cleanly sculpted and yet there was a delight in the smallest of details. Even the second movement, a classic moment of hands-in-pockets going-nowhere Bruckner became a sparkling jewel turning slowly in the sunlight. Time, for however many minutes, truly was suspended.
| | |
|
Angela Hewitt - Cadogan Hall, 3 September 2007
and
Prom 66: Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra/Barenboim - Royal Albert Hall, 3 September 2007
and
Prom 68: Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra/Barenboim - Royal Albert Hall, 4 September 2007
The refinement of Angela Hewitt's playing was matched by her frock choice for this lunchtime recital, a slinky teal jersey sleeveless gown and pants paired with teetering stilettos in matching satin (a risky choice for an hour at the piano?). But as it turned out she pedalled minimally, allowing the bright, pinging tone of her Fazioli piano to illuminate her midday programme, which sandwiched a couple of Scarlatti sonatas between two Bach Partitas.
She characterised each dance in the opening Partita no 1 with a clarity and delicacy that flowed through the whole programme. A little hesitancy and some uncharacteristic fluffs in this opener weren't repeated in the closing Bach Partita no 4, each phrase shaped with complete focus and attention.
Although Domenico Scarlatti was a contemporary of Bach, the two sonatas performed, K9 and K29, sound as if they come from another century, even another planet. Their sparky playfulness and invention provided just the right amount of contrast with the Bach.
Unfortunately, the BBC radio recording destroys the delicacy and intimacy of Hewitt's performance with a cavernous quality that wasn't at all apparent at the recital. But if you're curious about what a piano might sound like at the bottom of a well, it's worth a couple of minutes attention.
Given the tube strike which started a couple of hours earlier, it was surprising to see a full house for Barenboim and the Vienna Philharmonic in the evening, but it was worth any amount of difficulty to see a performance of this calibre.
They opened with Schubert's light and Mozartean fifth Symphony, composed when he was just 19. Finessing that tricky blend of assurance and freshness, the Vienna Phil gave the most charming and delightful performance.
Having no doubt drilled these consummate musicians to perfection in rehearsal, Barenboim simply waved his arms in the air now and again as if he was waiting for his deodorant to dry.
The main course of the evening was Bruckner's Symphony no 4, which according to the programme was performed in the original 1874 version. I didn't notice any differences from the more usually played 1880 version so I'm a bit baffled by this.
Anyway, who cares, it was a marvel from start to finish. Barenboim's conception had the air of confidence - no muddle and no theatrics. From the moment the horns reached out over the rippling strings in the opening bars through to the blazing finale there was not a second's drop in concentration. The burnished sweep of the string section was the foundation for some immaculate and inspired playing from the wind and brass as they shaped the long melodic phrases.
It really is impossible to pick out any one of the finely-crafted moments or any musician for special praise. Sometimes a great performance seems to be constructed in front of you from the base up - this one felt as if it had been born perfect, fully-formed, and simply unveiled to us slowly, second by second.
The tube strike finally managed to get its claws into the Proms with the Vienna Phil's second and final Prom the next day. There were great toothless gaps in the stalls seats, and even the arena could have squeezed a few more standing customers in.
It would have been unreasonable to expect anything of the intensity of the previous day's Bruckner, and indeed this was a much more relaxed affair.
If the previous night had focused on architecture and construction, this one was about painting. The huge textural differences between each of its four sections were what really leapt out from a surprisingly abrasive take on Bartók's Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta. Ligeti's brief Atmosphères was similarly rough-hewn, its curious shapes grinding up against each other.
The other two pieces, Kodály's Dances from Galánta and Enescu's Romanian Rhapsody No. 1 were delivered immaculately, and with tremendous verve. But despite their common Central European ancestry, their dancing rhythms seemed to belong on a different programme from the Bartók and Ligeti. Then again, perhaps that was the point.
The almost inevitable thundering ovation drew a couple of lively Strauss encores - the Vienna Phil as comfortable with these as with everything else they'd played.
Before the concert I slipped in to Proms head Nicholas Kenyon's audience Q&A session. This drew mostly the predictable Why can't we have more/less [insert name here] questions. However Kenyon did reveal that the Proms cost £8.5m, of which only £3.5m was covered by ticket receipts, the BBC footing the rest. For how long I wonder?
| | |
|
Recent Comments