Philharmonia, Salonen, Batiashvili, Latry, RFH 26 June 2014

Saariaho: Maan varjot (UK premiere)

Sibelius: Violin Concerto

Sibelius: Symphony No. 2

Olivier Latry (organ)

Lisa Batiashvili (violin)
Philharmonia Orchestra

Esa-Pekka Salonen, conductor

Royal Festival Hall, 16 June 2014

Esa-Pekka Salonen hasn’t conducted much Sibelius in London. But given he’s (among many other things) a Finnish music specialist, audiences here could well have anticipated that he’d demonstrate a mastery of the music. This evening he did exactly that, showing not only that he’s learned well from his many Finnish predecessors, but that he also has his own distinctive vision.

The Violin Concerto and Second Symphony were presented in an all-Finnish programme that began with the UK premiere of a new work by Kaija Saariaho, Maan varjot, a co-commission with three other orchestras that was given its first performance in Montreal at the end of last month. Its presentation here marked one of the final stages of the “Pull Out all the Stops” festival celebrating the restoration of the RFH organ. True to form, Saariaho avoided the idea of the guest instrument being a concertante soloist, and the relationship between organ and orchestra was complex throughout. The score is filled with her trademark subtleties and complexities, the textures often involving all or most of the orchestra, but rarely loud. Tremolos or complex woven lines in the middle voices, the violas for example or the woodwinds, create a subtly textured bed upon which to rest longer lines in the upper and lower voices. The organ occasionally rises to a position of dominance, but more often supports the orchestral textures with inscrutable, complex harmonies in the upper register or pulsing bass notes from the pedals. The work is structured in three movements, the character of which suggest, at least tangentially, a concerto format. The slow second movement gave Saariaho the opportunity to explore more intimate relationships between sections of the orchestra and corresponding registrations in the organ. The last movement begins with a toccata flourish from the organ, but that’s Saariaho’s single concession to triumphalism, and the music soon returns to her more muted and complex textures. The piece was played well, by orchestra and soloist alike. The composer seemingly had little interest in showcasing the talents of the celebrity organist for whom it was written, Olivier Latry, or even the capabilities of the newly-restored organ, a shame on both counts. Still, this was a great demonstration of the benefits that the newly restored organ will bring to concert life here, making performances like this possible, and without stealing the show.

In the event, the show belonged to Lisa Batiashvili, whose Sibelius Violin Concerto was one of the standout performances of the season. Her casual mastery of what is considered by many the most difficult concerto in the repertoire seemed to be a given from the very first notes. But the style, poise, elegance, and carefully regulated drama she brought to the work put her into another league. Batiashvili has an utterly distinctive tone, which she maintains through even the knottiest of passagework. It is complex and warm, slightly nasal and in some ways introverted. But it’s very elegant and it has a singing quality to it. The only quality it lacks is the grand, strident character that Sibelius sometimes demands, especially in the finale. A constructive tension quickly emerged in this performance between soloist and conductor; Salonen gave a more opulent and symphonic reading, while Batiashvili maintained a more intimate tone. But it worked well. There were never any balance problems, and the orchestra’s responsiveness to the soloist held the performance together, even when their expressive aims diverged. Batiashvili’s understated mastery really came into its own in the last pages, where the music gets more and more flamboyant in its virtuosity, and yet she continually refuses to break her controlled demeanour. The crowd went wild, and rightly so, this was a very special performance.

It was followed by a short encore, a recent arrangement of a Ukrainian folksong by a Georgian composer (I didn’t catch the name), part of a work he describes as Requiem for Ukraine. Again, Batiashvili used her calm, focussed stage presence to impressively powerful effect, this time for more political ends. The political influence exerted by classical musicians is an issue of seemingly endless debate, but Batishvili demonstrated here that making your point with no great fuss or fanfare, using the direct line of communication that your talent permits, has far greater power and resonance than some of the more gratuitous stunts we have recently seen from other performers.

The Sebelius Second got a revisionist reading in some ways from Salonen, yet not to the point of antagonising more traditional tastes. Phrasing was often clipped, tempos were always provisional, and clarity of texture always took precedence over atmosphere. Yet, despite all this micromanagement, the bigger picture was never compromised, and the playing was suitably expansive when required. The orchestra was on top form, especially the strings, with all those pizzicatos in the cellos and basses given with absolute precision. Given that the concert opened with what must have been a very difficult new work, it was impressive that Salonen also found the time to rehearse, and rehearse well, the more familiar symphony. Once or twice his approach seemed a little too constricted. The build-up into the finale for example wasn’t so much a process of tension and release as just a carefully graded crescendo. But it was clear that Salonen always knew what he was doing. It turned out the reason he had underplayed that particular passage was so as not to pre-empt the similarly dramatic lead into the coda. And the ending was just magnificent. Like Batiashvili at the end of the concerto, Salonen gave us understated power here, with plenty of volume from the orchestra, but plenty of detail too. In the end, it turned out that Salonen had provided all the qualities that make a Sibelius performance great, the grandeur, the majesty, the expressive focus, but he’s done it in a distinctive way that was all his own.

Philharmonia, Westbroek, Dohnányi, RFH 5 June 2014

Strauss: Four Last Songs

Bruckner: Symphony No. 9

Christoph von Dohnányi: cond

Eva-Maria Westbroek: soprano

Philharmonia Orchestra

As the final, ethereal chord of the Bruckner’s great Adagio faded to silence at the end of this evening’s concert, somebody behind me whispered to their companion that the conductor, Christoph von Dohnányi is 84 years old. I’d never have guessed. He’s the kind of conductor who seems eternally young, always in control and always focussing his orchestra on the interpretation he has in mind. In fact, there were a few holes in this evening’s performance, and in retrospect it may be fair to blame these on a lack of vigour from the podium. In general, though, the results were serviceable, in only rarely inspired.

In the first half, Eva-Maria Westbroek sang Strauss’ Four Last Songs. She is a real presence, and effortlessly dominates proceedings. Her performance was very “operatic”, her voice rich and vibrato-laden, her every phrase deliberate and emphatic. There was much of her trademark Sieglinde here (although thankfully little of her Anna Nicole Smith) and her grand musical gestures often seemed out of scale with Strauss’ more intimate ideas. While everything she sang was elegant, much of it lacked delicacy. So, for example, her pickup from the violin solo in the third song was a sudden switch from introverted nuance to big, brassy tones. (That impression was amplified by the sheer quality of the violin solo, from Zsolt-Tihamér Visontay, the horn solo by Katy Wooley in the previous song also deserves a mention). In general though, Westbroek provided a Struassian rendition, but one that would have been more at home in Salome or Elektra than here.

The original programme for this concert began with Leonore 3 and ended with Mahler 1. The reasons for replacing both with Bruckner 9 were not stated, and where perhaps down to a whim of the conductor. If so, concessions can certainly be made given his advancing years. He has some experience with Bruckner’s symphonies, especially with the Cleveland Orchestra, but for London audiences his relationship with this composer comes as news. His reading of the Ninth was focussed and dynamic (not to labour the point, but impressively dynamic for his age). It was a little rough round the edges, and not everything worked, but there was enough great music making here to make it worthwhile. Dohnányi had clearly focussed his rehearsal time on certain key passages, and at many of the important structural junctures, clear lines came shining through in the strings or woodwinds, leading the way into the following section. He adopted a wide range of tempos, usually sticking to his guns once a section was in progress and rarely shaping phrases with overt rubato. But accelerandos often went from very slow to very fast in a short space of time, and the tuttis they prepared tended to be very loud. So loud, in fact, that the players often lost control of their tone, especially the brass section.

The Scherzo was on the fast side, and the sense of propulsion that Dohnányi injected made up for a lack of punch in the accents. In fact, this happened throughout the symphony, with Dohnányi looking for weight and power from his players but never quite finding it. Some of the orchestral playing was sloppy, especially the ensemble in the tuttis. In one, near the end of the first movement, it sounded briefly as if the whole thing was about to fall apart. But the quality of the playing came and went. The opening of the Scherzo sounded reasonable the first time round, but by the time the Da Capo came around, they had regained their form and the contrast between the two renditions was striking.

Fortunately, the final Adagio worked better. Dohnányi again adopted a wide range of tempos, some, but not all, on the fast side. But now the players did everything he wanted of them, and the unity of ensemble, especially in the strings focused and directed the long, lyrical lines. It seemed throughout the symphony, and in the Strauss too, that Dohnányi   was looking for a more direct and open sound than the orchestra were used to, but in the Adagio he and they found the ideal middle ground. And the final passages were sublime, both the flute solo and the Wagner tuba chorale emaphatic and clear, but also nuanced and finely balanced. The whole concert seemed to be a journey towards this point, it was just a shame that it only really came together at the very end.

Sokhiev, Mullova, Kalagina, Philharmonia. RFH 12 December 13

Mendelssohn: Violin Concerto in E Minor

Mahler: Symphony No. 4

Viktoria Mullova (violin),

Anastasia Kalagina (soprano),

Tugan Sokhiev (cond.),

Philharmonia Orchesta,

Royal Festival Hall, London, 12.12.13

A game of two halves this: a Mendelssohn Violin Concerto wholly lacking in enthusiasm, commitment and...well, anything very much, followed by a Mahler Four of genuine insight and originality.

I’ve not heard Viktoria Mullova before, but her reputation precedes her, and it must surely be based on performances better than this one. There was nothing technically wrong with her performance, but for one of the great Romantic concertos it was curiously lacking in emotion. To her credit, Mullova projects an identity through her playing and ensures that what she does is always distinctive. Her programme bio tells us she’s a part-time HIPster, which may explain the strict economy she applies to her rubato. Her tone is always focussed, and projects the line well, but it rarely sings. And she has a different timbre in each register: a viola-like richness at the bottom, a more nasal sound in the middle, and a thin, reedy whine at the top. Delicacy is her key virtue in the Mendelssohn: nothing is ever laid on thick and melodic lines are suggested rather than stated emphatically. But it doesn’t add up to a coherent interpretation, and it almost always lacks warmth.

That’s not to say Mullova was the only culprit here. Conductor Tugan Sokhiev communicated poorly with her throughout, and straightjacketed the orchestra into an inflexible and angular reading that neither they nor Mullova ever sounded comfortable with. Occasionally, she would attempt to free up the tempo, in the coda to the first movement for example, where she made every effort to accel into the final cadence. But it was no good, she just got further and further ahead of the metronomic beat, Sokhiev always refusing to yield. Predictably, the orchestra lacked motivation here, and the textures in the ensemble were muddy and indistinct throughout the concerto. For all his rigour, Sokhiev also failed to make the work cohere, leading to many awkward transitions and tempo shifts.

Fortunately, the second half of the concert was a completely different story. Or rather, everything that Sokhiev had done in the first half to the detriment of the Mendelssohn – his austerity, brutally imposed tempo changes, and curious orchestral balances – came together in the Mahler to produce a meaningful and engaging interpretation. Mahler’s Fourth Symphony is something of a virtuoso showpiece for the conductor, with all sorts of paradoxes to resolve on the hoof  (just look at the tempo change on the first page of the score). Sokhiev appeared throughout the concert as a conductor used to getting his way by heavy coercion, by dictatorship from the podium. This score benefits from that approach, because if the composer knows the music well and knows where he is going with it (Sokhiev clearly knows both), the problematic ambiguities of tempo and form that the work throws up can be overcome.

Sokhiev is clearly very interested in the details of Mahler’s orchestration, the held horn chords, for example, that often underpin woodwind ensembles, or the way that a violin line will be given an earthy and rustic-sounding conclusion by suddenly switching to the violas before the cadence. And the Philharmonia responded well to his analytical approach, bringing out all those colourful details, and without ever exaggerating them to the point of pedantry. The woodwinds yet again showed themselves to be the crowning glory of this orchestra, presenting all manner of intricacy and detail in both their ensembles and their solos.

Soprano Anastasia Kalagina is the ideal collaborator for Sokhiev’s Mahler. Her tone is narrow but focussed, clear and with only a very slight vibrato, and she always brings the lyrics to the fore. She gave the sort of performance that combined beautifully with the detail Sokhiev was drawing from the woodwinds behind her, both she and they presenting intimate but never pale colours, shaped through deeply expressive phrasing.

This still wasn’t an ideal performance though, and although they were not as evident, some of Sokhiev’s flaws in the Mendelssohn carried over into the Mahler. His tempos were often stiff (something Mahler himself considered fatal to performances of his music) and the orchestra often seemed to be hectored into compliance through emphatic cues and an unyielding baton technique. Also, Sokhiev had the same communication problems with Kalagina that he had previously had with Mullova, a reluctance to follow her phrasing and a reluctance to give her the space she needed to perform as a soloist. But in this work it is the conductor’s vision that matters, and Sokhiev clearly has one; an understanding of the symphony’s curious proportions and of the story that Mahler is trying to tell. With just a little more empathy for his colleagues, Sokhiev could have given a truly great performance of the score this evening, but even while jealously clutching the reins of power, he still produced a very fine one.

Philharmonia Dudamel Mahler Festival Hall 14 November 2013

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