Vienna Philharmonic under Christoph Eschenbach October 12, 2011
Posted by Alan Yu in Classical, Music.Tags: Brahms, Christoph Eschenbach, Classical Music, Des Knaben Wunderhorn, Mahler, Schubert, Tragic Overture, Vienna Philharmonic
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| October 9th, 2011 | |
| Concert Hall,Hong KongCultural Centre | |
| Johannes Brahms | Tragic Overture, Op. 81 |
| Franz Schubert | Symphony No. 8 in B Minor, ‘Unfinished’ |
| Allegro moderato | |
| Andante con moto | |
| Gustav Mahler | 11 Songs from Des Knaben Wunderhorn |
| ViennaPhilharmonic Orchestra | |
| Conductor: Christoph Eschenbach | |
It’s no surprise that the programme for Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra’s visit to Hong Kong should consist of well-known works by composers closely related to its home city; it is quite something else to hear the orchestra’s unique interpretation of these works.
Together with the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, the Vienna Philharmonic is probably the pre-eminent custodian of the Germanic tradition in the classical music repertoire. Apart from conductor Christoph Eschenbach’s trademark black tunic making him look like a character out of Star Trek, everything about the orchestra is traditional – period instruments, straight-down-the-line interpretation, and respect for the composers’ intentions.
Brahms’ Tragic Overture, Op. 81, supposedly a companion to the jubilant Academic Festival Overture, is dark, brooding and sometimes turbulent, but not tragic in the sense of death and destruction. In the hands of a less sensitive and capable conductor, it can easily become 15 minutes of unwieldy thickness. Under the stewardship of Christoph Eschenbach and the Vienna Philharmonic, however, the overture was sufficiently depressing, but not overwhelmingly distraught. They managed to wind their way through the various moods with enough contrast and sensitivity to make the work interesting. The gentleness of the sound produced by the orchestra’s period instruments also helped reduce the sense of ponderousness. The lower strings, in particular, were lush without being dense.
We may never know whether Schubert’s Symphony No. 8 is genuinely “unfinished”. All we do know is that his friend Anselm Hünterbrenner didn’t tell anyone about it until decades after his death, and that he had the score for only two full movements. Given Schubert’s first six symphonies, and the grandeur of the 9th, the Symphony No. 8 seems to be a “transitional” work – between the early attempts conforming to the classical symphonic form to the artistic breakthrough of the “Great” C Major symphony.
Even when in its most depressed state, Schubert’s music sighs, rather than weeps, as Brahms’ does; or wails, as Mahler’s. The Vienna Philharmonic’s approach was almost gingerly. The first movement began with a nondescript theme on the lower strings, followed by a clear statement by oboes and clarinets. There was good articulation of contrast between glow and gloom without high drama, and of lyricism without sentimentality.
The horns and the oboes stood out in the second movement, which featured two main themes, one light and resigned, and the other emphatic. Even in delivering the airy parts of the movement, the orchestra maintained a sense of dignity. In the more serious parts, soothing tenderness underlined the gravity.
Baritone Matthias Goerne joined the orchestra in 11 Songs from Des Knaben Wunderhorn by Mahler. Des Knaben, a collection of folk poems by Achim von Arnim and Clemens Brentano, was a rich source of inspiration for Mahler, providing material for his second, third and fourth symphonies. Compared with his later song symphony, Das Lied von der Erde, Des Knaben’s orchestration is light, giving the voice parts due exposure.
Goerne’s smooth and fluid tone flowed like water in a stream, with a range that reached deep into the territory of the bass. He manipulated inflections effectively to suit the different emotional contents of the songs, from the sombre death march of Der Schildwache Nachtlied (The Sentinel’s Night Song) to the overt humour of Lob Des hohen Verstandes (Praise of High Intelligence), which reminded me of Der Vogelfänger bin ich ja from Mozart’s Magic Flute.
Deserving particular mention were Rheinlegendchen (Little Rhein Legend), in which Goerne delicately shaped an air of magic and idyllic beauty, and Wo die schönen Trompeten blasen (Where the fine trumpets blow), in which he glided through a glowing melody of lulling romance. I only wish that his diction was a little clearer.
The Vienna Philharmonic celebrated the success of its visit with an encore of Strauss’ Blue Danube waltz, a staple in the orchestra’s repertoire. With his somewhat robotic conducting style, Christoph Eschenbach has brought the orchestra into the 21st century while preserving its precious heritage.
A mixed bag of old and new with the Montréal Symphony October 10, 2010
Posted by Alan Yu in Classical, Music.Tags: Classical Music, Kent Nagano, Mahler, Montreal Symphony, Music
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The last time I was in the Salle de Wilfred-Pelletier in the Place des Arts, Montréal, I sat underneath the balcony which extends almost halfway into the hall. The acoustics was so restrictive that I found it hard to concentrate on the music being played.
Fortunately, on October 3rd, I sat on the balcony itself. Under the baton of music director Kent Nagano, the Montréal Symphony Orchestra opened the evening with Sur le même accord, nocturne for violin and orchestra, by contemporary French composer Henri Dutilleux. The expansiveness and resonance of the acoustics, by contrast, was refreshing.
Sur le même accord is a mood piece, with the solo violin gliding smoothly over the orchestral accompaniment, much like a skater on ice. Although the work is dedicated to the soloist of the evening, Anne-Sophie Mutter, the solo part does not seem that demanding of virtuosity, perhaps leaving Mutter little opportunity to showcase her technical mastery of the instrument. Nevertheless, soloist and orchestra worked well together to present the relaxed tone of a walk in the park.
The second work on the programme, the violin concerto In tempus Praesens by Russian composer Sofia Gubaidulina is no doubt a work of extreme intensity, well developed intellectuality and a tour de force of tonal, melodic, harmonic, temporal and rhythmic exploration. Compared with Sur le même accord, it also offers Mutter a great deal of room for showing off her technical prowess.
Gulbaidulina’s concerto is a trek through the Siberian wasteland in the depth of winter. The absence of the violins in the orchestra heightens the tension between it and the soloist – a tension the programme notes characterise as that between “the ‘good’ and ‘evil’ of a Dostoevskian Russia”. The wailing first notes soon progress to a rhythm much like the trotting of a horse, with the undulating strings leading to a climax accentuated by loud percussion.
The value of the concerto may be high as a didactic exploration of the esoteric aspects of composition, but in the concert hall it is somewhat a misfit. Its idiom is arcane, and its structure obscure. Nevertheless, the performance received a standing ovation, reaffirming my depressing suspicion that I was the only obtuse one in the crowd.
The worldliness of Mahler came to the rescue in the second half of the programme. Although his fifth symphony has a feeling of optimism overall, it opens with a funeral march. Despite intermittent moments of hope and triumph, the opening trumpet call keeps returning to remind us of the menace of death. Although the tone of the orchestra was somewhat diffuse, it handled the contrasting moods well.
The brass and shivering strings of the second movement, at first delivering a sense of shock and anguish, soon gives way to idyllic passages in the winds, presaging the unbridled romanticism of Erich Korngold and Hollywood epics such as Gone With the Wind. Under Nagano, the Montréal Symphony’s tone was confident and forceful. Its handling of the contrasts and mood swings was skilful.
The orchestra’s real mastery of the subject matter was most obvious in delivering the humour and irony in the scherzo. Opening with a light dance tune, the horns and winds pave the way to an elegant waltz, with glimpses of darkness and nostalgia emerging in the bassoon. The return of the waltz is short-lived, rapidly degenerating into horror, almost like terrorists breaking up a party.
The use of the adagietto in Visconti’s movie Death in Venice has perhaps unjustly flouted it as the personification of decadence. According to Norman Lebrecht in Why Mahler, it is “about love and the renunciation of love…in which the same few notes convey love and loss, commitment and retraction…” Thus, says Lebrecht, “the meaning depends how it is performed, how a conductor shapes and stretches the movement”.
It is here, perhaps, Nagano shows his weakness most. His detached and controlled style did not quite bring out the wistfulness of the movement. Under him, the sequence of notes stayed as it was – a sequence of notes – rather than an emotionally-charged melodic idea.
As a conductor, Kent Nagano is down-to-earth, matter-of-fact, and effective. His performances are orderly, measured and even-tempered. This is perhaps why he excelled in Dutilleux and Gubaidulina, but fell somewhat short in Mahler.
