Mahler:
Symphony No. 7
Philharmonia
Orchestra, Gustavo Dudamel (cond.)
The
Festival Hall foyer was abuzz with anticipation ahead of this evening’s
concert, which was curious given that it was performed by a resident orchestra
who plays here every week and the only work on the programme was Mahler’s
Seventh, the most rambling and least loved of his symphonies. No, the London
audiences were out in force to hear Gustavo Dudamel, currently the hottest
conductor on the circuit and a frustratingly rare visitor to these shores.
Watching
Dudamel on the podium, it is easy to see why he is such a star. He conducts
without a score – quite a feat given the vicissitudes of this particular work –
the better to put his whole body to the service of the music. His baton
technique is all about small, jerky movements. But that’s just to give the details
of his beat, and the rest of his body moves with grace and ease, physically
manifesting the emotions and moods he is evoking. He has that rare ability to
conduct in (at least) two ways at once, giving the beat to the scurrying
strings, for example, with his baton, while also provoking some violent
responses from the percussion and brass with his body language and, yes, his
hair, a secret weapon few other conductors can boast.
Despite
his reputation for dynamic and extrovert performances, this Mahler Seven was
surprisingly staid. Tempos were on the brisk side and the phrases, while
elegantly shaped, often seemed constrained by the amount of control he was exerting
over the players. That impression was much stronger in the earlier movements
than the later ones, creating a narrative that built towards more opulent and
expressionistic textures towards the end. Mahler Seven is a piece that needs
some clear ideas from the conductor; it can easily drag in less competent
hands. Dudamel’s approach often seemed constrictive, and there were many
aspects of the score that didn’t seem to interest him very much, but his
complete control over the music, and especially over its progress and unfolding
drama, overcame many of the structural problems that are usually all too
apparent.
The
Philharmonia didn’t really raise their game for the celebrity conductor, which
was a shame. His slick, focussed reading was of a kind that would have
benefited from tight ensemble and unity of intent. But the string section
lacked focus, and the woodwinds were often ragged. None of this was fatal, but
it worked against what Dudamel was trying to do. As much as anything else, it
suggested that he is used to working with far superior orchestras.
The
opening of the first movement was particularly strict, faster than usual and
without any sense of atmosphere. An excellent euphonium solo from Byron Fulcher
(with just a touch of vibrato at the top) was supported by dour, but not
particularly dark, textures from the woodwinds and lower strings. Most of the
first movement was in a similar vein, brisk, carefully phrased and usually
avoiding extremes. Dudamel never let the quieter, slower sections off the leash;
he always seemed preoccupied by the tuttis to follow. And the tuttis were never
as loud or as wild as Salonen, for example, would take them with the same
forces. But Dudamel’s control paid dividends at the end of the movement, where
the gradual buildup to the final climax takes various diversions and momentary
lapses, none of which he allowed to get in the way of the clear structuring of
the coda.
The
second movement began with a robust but finely judged horn solo, which soon led
into some fairly chaotic woodwind textures. Dudamel seemed keen to emphasise
the individual lines here, and was able to balance the individual players to
bring out all the lines. But again the results felt overly restrained, and the
music rarely seemed to breathe as it should. The offstage percussion was set
back at such a distance as to be barely audible, another balance consideration
perhaps.
Things
picked up with the third movement scherzo, and from here on the performance
finally came to life. The rubato that he had studiously avoided up to here was
put to the service of the Ländler passages, which still felt a bit stilted, but
swayed elegantly all the same. The second “Nachtmusik” movement was
considerably superior to the first, more atmospheric and better served by the
detail and careful phrasing that Dudamel drew from the woodwind soloists.
(Incidentally, the Guest Principal flute this evening was the excellent Karen
Jones, whose breathy but focused tone and precise articulation was about the
best thing the woodwind section had to offer. The last time I heard the
Philharmonia another guest flautist occupied the chair, none other than
Katherine Bryan. Is the orchestra planning to make an appointment? If so,
either of these would be excellent choices.)
The
finale is the toughest movement for any conductor approaching the Seventh. Its
structure is opaque and its length extreme, especially following the previous
substantial movements. As with the first movement, Dudamel took a measured
approach to much of the music here. He capitalised on the orchestral colours
that Mahler draws, and made sure all of the surprises, the sforzandos and
sudden loud entries, had their full impact. Again, the quieter passages lost
out, seemingly just stopping points in the inexorable progress towards the
grand climax, which certainly was grand. The coda of this movement was
sensational, combining fireworks from every corner of the orchestra with an
impressive attention to detail. But it achieved its effect largely through the
preparation Dudamel had given it, throughout the finale, and arguably throughout
the whole work.
A
highly structured reading, then, of this notoriously unstructured symphony.
Dudamel gave a direct and focused reading that offered subtle solutions to the
work’s many structural problems. To do that, he had to make sacrifices,
especially in the more atmospheric passages in the early movements. An
intelligent reading, not a perfect one by any means, but one that showed
impressive maturity and that was clearly based on a deep knowledge and understanding
of the music. What Dudamel lacked this evening in the dynamism that has been
his trademark he made up for in a musical maturity that could yet prove even
more valuable.
This performance was broadcast live on
BBC Radio 3 and is available to listen on demand until 21 November 2013: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b03h3whr
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