Melnikov Shostakovich Wigmore Hall 4 Feb 2014

Shostakovich: Preludes and Fugues, book 2

Alexander Melnikov (pn)

Alexander Melnikov’s recorded Shostakovich is a known quantity – accolades for his CDs of these works take up half his programme bio – but nothing prepares you for the live experience. Melnikov is able to perfectly express the paradoxical mix of introversion and intensity that characterises this music, while carefully shaping the dramatic arc of every movement. He takes the music to the dynamic extremes that Shostakovich specifies, but without ever compromising the evenness of his touch or the roundness of his tone. And he finds myriad ways of expressing the composer’s inner world, the insecurities behind the bluster, the intensity behind the lyrical lines, and the directness of expression behind the most complex of fugal intrigues.

Melnikov’s technique, at least as presented here, is profoundly Russian, but never to the point of cliché. Every note is a statement, and whatever poetry he might express through his playing, it is always based on a very defined relationship with the keyboard: the beginning and end of each note is always very clear. Much of this music is very loud, but the thundering dynamics never compromise Melnikov’s tone. As the dynamics rise, often through very long crescendos, Melnikov just keeps putting in more power, yet his body movements hardly change. Wherever this intensity comes from, it produces a clean, unlaboured fortissimo that fully justifies the composer’s many extended passages at this dynamic.

On paper, many of these Preludes and Fugues look surprisingly simple, with open diatonic harmonies and foursquare rhythms. But under Melnikov’s hands the music becomes considerably more complex. His rubato is often extreme, although a regularity is maintained through his ability to apply the same amount of give and take through the entire course of a long movement. He is also able take the dynamics right down to a whisper, and still fill the hall with sound, such is the roundness and warmth of his tone. He doesn’t run the works together into a cycle, but rather treats each as a separate unit of expression, requiring its own palette of colours and range of internal contrasts. Shostakovich will often begin a prelude with a jolt, an emphatic statement of the theme or a bracing introductory flourish. Melnikov presents these directly and without interpretive extravagance, the better to surprise the ear. Then, as the movement progresses, it gradually becomes clear that not everything is as it seems: simple and direct textures take on dark overtones, extreme rubato breaks up repeated figurations, and thematic statements bubble up from the middle of the texture to unexpectedly dominate.

Melnikov’s is an extreme reading in many ways, particularly in terms of the dynamics and rubato, but it is a confident and carefully controlled one too. He cites Richter as an inspiration, and many of the Richter’s finest traits find their way into his playing, particularly the focussed intensity and the dark poetry that the two pianists find in Shostakovich’s work. The Wigmore Hall is the ideal venue to hear Melnikov in this repertoire, the roundness and richness of his tone are well projected by both the piano itself and the hall’s warm acoustic. Drier and more formal readings of Shostakovich’s Preludes and Fugues also have a place, but Melnikov’s readings seem truer to the spirit of the music, and to the complex and inscrutable character of the composer himself.

BBC SO Bychkov Katia and Marielle Labèque 16 Jan 2014

Martinů: Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra

Shostakovich: Symphony No. 7

BBC Symphony Orchestra

Katia and Marielle Labèque

Barbican, London, 16 January 2014

The BBC Symphony Orchestra plays well for Semyon Bychkov. He’s a disciplined conductor and has an excellent baton technique, allowing him to unify this orchestra in a way that few others manage. He has an ear for detail, in balance and ensemble, but even more so in phrasing. Nothing is left to chance. That’s not to say his interpretations lack lyricism, or that he’s unwilling to give soloists space: he is, and the passages of relative freedom he allows the players complement the more emphatically led tuttis. In fact, Bychkov gets the very best out of every orchestra he conducts, but with the BBC SO there seems to be a special chemistry that works to everybody’s advantage. He currently holds the more-or-less honorary Günter Wand Conducting Chair with the orchestra, which sadly doesn’t guarantee as many London appearances as audiences here would like. But it’s currently his only official position (surprising, given his eminence) so perhaps we can look forward to a few more concerts with him in forthcoming seasons.

This evening’s concert opened with Martinů’s Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra, which was a family affair, as the soloists were the Labèque sisters, one of whom is married to Bychkov. The score is typical Martinů, all saturated orchestral textures and dense, scurrying piano writing. The first movement is particularly impressive, as it lands running, at a pretty hectic pace, and then maintains the momentum for its entire duration. Then there is a slow movement, dominated by woodwind solos and ensembles, and then the finale, which is a bit more rhythmically complex and involves a greater range of textures and tempos than the first. The BBC SO’s previous Chief Conductor, Jiři Bělohlávek, led the orchestra in a complete Martinů symphony cycle a few years ago and trained the players well in the composer’s unique style. Despite the density and complexity of his orchestration, Martinů always harks back to the sounds of Czech folk music. The players this evening really managed to project that sense of rustic simplicity through the dense layering of the music. The Labèque sisters gave a convincing account of the solo parts, all very emotive and mobile, with lots of writhing heads and swishing hair. I thought they could have hammered out the important rhythms and cross-rhythms a bit more though; Martinů obviously expects those to come through - though he doesn’t do much to help them in his orchestration. A bit more definition in the solo lines might have helped clarify the shape and direction of this often wayward and opaque music.

There was nothing wayward or opaque about the opening movement of the “Leningrad”, quite the opposite. Bychkov has something of a reputation as a Shostakovich interpreter, and this performance demonstrated exactly why. He’s also a Leningrader himself, which must make a difference. In this first movement everything came together. From the opening unison phrase it was clear that a great deal of time and effort had gone into getting the style and phrasing right. The notes were slightly detached and the phrasing slightly clipped, the better to delineate the shape of the line. Balances were ideal throughout this tricky movement, and the gradual climax through the invasion theme section was perfectly paced. The string sound was energetic, but had the dark quality required of the much of the music. Excellent woodwind solos, excellent snare drum too.

If the remainder of the symphony didn’t quite maintain the standard of excellence set by this first movement, it certainly came close. Some fatigue was evident in the later movements, and the players’ control of their tone colour, and of balance within sections, suffered a little. But it was still a great performance. Bychkov allowed the music of the middle movements some space to breathe, bringing some poetry to this otherwise austere context. Not too much though, and the discipline was always maintained. And in the finale, he was able to at least acknowledge the undertones of dissent and doubt, yet his tempos remained disciplined, always focussing the music towards its inevitably triumphant conclusion. And when it came, no doubts remained. Even at these loudest dynamics, the balance within the orchestra continued to be finely judged, as did the tone colours, especially from the blazing brass. A triumphant conclusion to a memorable concert.

                                                                                                                        

This concert was broadcast live on BBC Radio 3 and can be heard until 23^rd Jan at: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b03pdh5l

LSO Brunello Gergiev Shostakovich Mahler

Shostakovich, Mahler: Mario Brunello (cello), London Symphony Orchestra, Valery Gergiev (conductor), Barbican Hall, London, 2.3.11 (GDn)


Shostakovich: Cello Concerto No.2

Mahler: Symphony No.9

Whichever way you look at it, Shostakovich's Second Cello Concerto is a tough work. It is a long and involved, and most of it is in that inscrutable and attenuated style that typifies his last symphonies. It is a product of the Brezhniev era, and many Russians will tell you that to that to make any sense of the art of those times you have to have been there. I wasn't (thank God), which may explain why listening to the work felt more like a spectator sport than an involving musical experience.

That said, everybody involved in this performance went out of their way to foster empathy between the audience and the music. It was written for Rostropovich, whose name is repeatedly checked in the programme and whose playing is continuously evoked by the playing of soloist Mario Brunello. Like Rostropovich, Brunello is the kind of cellist who can evoke every possible sort of mood and colour from his instrument, and who can instantly establish a rapport with his audience by making everything look easy. It turns out that Brunello consulted Rostropovich at length about this work, and one the most interesting results was the suggestion of a narrative programme based on Gogol's story The Overcoat. Brunello outlines this idea in an essay in the programme, and to be honest he pushes his luck with the level of detail in the analogy. It is a useful handle though, especially given the work's length and wayward form.

Brunello put in a fine performance. It wasn't note perfect, and the first movement in particular suffered from a number of intonation slips. But the spirit of Slava shone through in the combination of graceful lyricism and decisive intonation. For Shostakovich sceptics (myself included), the saving grace of many of the composer's scores are the moments of levity where his self-awareness transforms the dark mood into sardonic irony. There are precious few of those in this score, but when they come, Brunello is sure to make the most of them.

The LSO where on top form throughout the evening, especially the woodwind, who had few moments of respite in either work. Shostakovich often expects loud and decisive gestures from them, and despite the seemingly impossible high dynamics, they retained their composure throughout. Some excellent percussion playing too. This work uses what must be among the largest percussion sections for any concerto, with many passages scored for just the soloist with percussion accompaniment. Or is it rather the soloist under siege from percussion attack? Whichever way, the sounds from the back of the stage where always clear and decisive, yet always precisely controlled.

Listening to late Mahler in the proximity of late Shostakovich illuminates the work of both composers, especially with Gergiev at the helm. Other conductors may emphasise the continuity in Mahler's Ninth Symphony, but Gergiev instead emphasises the uniqueness of each gesture and the various structural oddities that make this work unlike anything else the composer ever wrote. And like Shostakovich in his later years, the ailing Mahler takes the musical vocabulary of his earlier work but rearranges it into a completely new syntax where nothing quite adds up the way it used to.

Gergiev again takes the woodwind section to their limits here, cranking up the dynamics in their various solos and ensembles so that many of their entries seem to come out of nowhere to change the course of the music. In these times of Mahler saturation, it is reassuring to know that Gergiev can always do something new with these well-known scores. You don't expect any pussy-footing around the issue from him, you expect clear, decisive interpretations and plenty of energy. That's exactly what we got here, and as ever, the clear focussed sound of the LSO served his purposes magnificently.

Predictably perhaps, the inner movements benefited most from Gergiev's approach. His incessant driving tempos and dynamic extremes really accentuated the scherzo character of both, and there were many moments of divine inspiration. The opening of the second movement, for example, exploded on the scene with that thundering yet controlled power that is the trademark of Gergiev and his LSO forces. And just as importantly, they managed to maintain the concentration throughout the movement. The coda of the third movement was another Gergiev classic. Where other conductors (and very possibly the score itself) aim for a gradual build-up to the earth shattering cadence, Gergiev reaches that maximum intensity about two minutes before then maintains it right up to the last chord. Excessive perhaps, but utterly convincing.

Microphones were placed around the orchestra for the concert, and in the absence of any Radio 3 or Classic FM logos in the programme, I'm assuming that the Mahler performance is scheduled for inclusion in the LSO Live cycle of Mahler recordings that has been on the go for the last few years. The sheer visceral energy of this performance is going to make it the ideal Ninth for that cycle, and the lightning bolt that they will no-doubt put on the cover has never been so appropriate. However, the outer movements may prove controversial in the long run, because Gergiev ramps up the power there too. That isn't necessarily a problem as most of the music can take it. To see the symphony as two scherzos surrounded by two slow movements diminishes the paradoxical complexity of those outer movements. There is plenty of energy and power in both, and Gergiev makes sure we get every volt of it. I wasn't convinced by the very opening, which lacked the mystery and ambiance that other conductors can find there, but otherwise the approach worked very well. Thankfully, Gergiev had the good sense to pull back for the coda of the last movement, demonstrating that he can do the quiet and the atmospheric just as well when he wants to. Up till then, the evening had been dominated by the woodwind and brass, but in these last few minutes, the strings came into their own with some beautifully controlled pianissimo playing. A magical conclusion, but also a reminder of the delicacy that this orchestra is capable of, but which Gergiev rarely gives them the chance to demonstrate.