BBC: Edinburgh Internat'l Festival. Cleveland Orchestra, Franz Welser-Most. Bruckner Eighth (original 1887 version). 17.08.10.

This is the first encounter I recall of original 1887 version of the Bruckner Eighth Symphony with an American orchestra. Only six recordings exist by American bands of the standard 1890 version – two of them Cleveland under Szell and Dohnanyi. On close scrutiny, there is much to be gained by revisiting this version of the Eighth even with its greater eccentricities and it having been judged as inferior during Bruckner’s time.

This is music of more elaborate, brighter character than its altogether more obviously brooding revision three years later. It is here more confident in its heroic stance, and also hardly ever wary of extent to which it takes certain things - occasionally to great lengths. It is also more clearly, with certain turns of phrase, especially while approaching cadences, more reminding of the Seventh - the original Eighth’s ties to it altogether closer than the revision lets us hear. The greater fervor, more confident striving toward certain goals (and making at least one – achievement of huge cadence in C Major – twice prematurely) also indicates a closer bond with the Seventh one has always assumed contrasts altogether very much with the Eighth.

With his Clevelanders, Franz Welser-Most certainly might indeed be best suited to the original version of this piece. His remarks of finding a kinship between the music of Bruckner and John Adams perhaps makes anachronistic some emphasis, such as bright projection of overt qualities this music has to offer, such as comes naturally to Cleveland - here even while achieved to somewhat detached effect. Repetitiveness of certain figuration in a fidgety way - getting achievement of climax to a line or cadence timed just right, I suppose - does carry some appeal to it, given what influence on the music of John Adams this music must have had long by now.

Franz Welser-Most’s sense of shape to a still steeply arched first movement was intact, but loosely achieved. A slightly rushed start to this movement hesitated to assume definite profile until loud full brass entrance with opening statement for it. Strings were warm with second subject, with there being greater fervor, patience in shaping it possible. Jagged character of third theme group got realized well, if resulting in some choppy playing – and with rushing towards cadences, making all sound very bright, but lacking in a certain amount of fire to infuse it from within and carry forward what qualities this music borrows from its predecessor. Voiced very well, the diaphanous quality of woodwind section descant over inverted second theme in the Development was distinctive, but worked into making too insistently paced a traversal of sequence of restating first theme in the brass. Very bright cadence on G Major replaces our hearing broad, repetitive descending line repeated on solo flute over ‘Annunciation’ in darkly placed back trumpets. Pointing of ‘Annunciation’ on trumpets here - with more swirling about than in 1890, insufficiently prepared here, became weightless, streamlined.

Good focus got restored for second theme reprise, but highly plaintive and less heavily scored, but all the same fully achieved ‘Annunciation’ at last sounded here curiously on verge of expressionistic with so much uncertainty for effectively preparing it. Tug underneath final achievement of C Major to close the first movement also got undercut, helping leave one with the uneasy perspective of there being lack of depth to what had transpired thus far.

Supple play was made of the scherzo, although with strings sounding a bit precariously thin at its outset. Pointing of here apparent ricochet of upbeats between different brass was confident, but seemingly devoid of firming up shape of what in still more determined fashion – tremolo lines in the strings – really unify and carry this music forward. Diaphanous quality to string playing carrying forward began to detach from the enveloping in mystery of this music itself.

The ‘deutscher Michel’ folk-like character of figure spinning over and over again, but more frequently in 1887 to complete shape thereof than in 1890 is the more bucolically gawky for achieving such. Such quality also got partly missed here – for contentment with brightly virtuosic achievement of so much figuration by especially Cleveland strings and brass itself. Simplicity of the trio section here though was mostly well observed. Absorption however into the almost Gallic diaphanous quality (even without harps – not to get added until 1890) of textures at crest of striving, ascending lines replaced full achievement of line ascending its way into them.

The Adagio, Welser-Most’s most satisfactory movement here, started off with good measured pace – if with curious buzz from violins on their opening broad line. Harmonic change within descending lines to emanate from the opening to this got somewhat smoothed out, but with more circumspect shaping of it all, better avoiding Mantovani effect over harps, in full, tighter reprise of opening statement here. A fully achieved sense of repose took over for long expanse to follow, opening with ardently shaped second theme. Bruckner’s formally expected ending rhetoric to later reprise of first theme - where in 1890 very brief segue is made instead to second theme, matched well sense of being, without compromise of line, well settled into well stretched out peaceful oasis here – even if without quite fully achieved sense of what got us there. Cleveland strings made lovely cantabile of varied second theme transition into next, flowing sextuplet building reprise of the first theme.

Dramatic shaping of the more elaborate, winding (than 1890) trajectory to follow was mostly convincing, if a little distracting a certain involvement, absorption elsewhere with the sound Cleveland was showing they could produce for its own value alone – resulting in gratuitous smoothing out of some harmonic progressions therein. Written in anticipation of harmonic progression to guide opening of the finale, that the Georg Tintner makes on Naxos sound as though almost lifted from the Seventh, got also missed for what lovely sound could get produced – but all eventually working towards focused view overall of lengthier conclusion to the Adagio.

Instability behind guiding impetus to drive forward much of the finale of the Bruckner Eighth Symphony became a critical issue here. Welser-Most had his strings enter from ever so slightly behind the beat for an overall streamlined perspective to the driving opening - all causing momentary uncertainty for the brass in how to enter once or twice. Welser-Most then added extra dose of stringendo to reaching up with line through refrain to initially despondent and flat-line sounding second subject here. His pulling back for immediate start-over of the refrain, very well replaced in 1890, made an already awkward moment in Bruckner sound as through making alert for there to be immediately handy a bottle of Dramamine. Welser-Most then applied good weight to the third subject group, through smooth transition, extended coda – third subject derived accompaniment in strings now more prudently accented before beat with repeat-pitch grace notes or illusion thereof. Weighting down of broad string figuration under brass in loud re-affirmation of E-Flat Minor was stodgy.

Dragging of the beat continued to persist until in the Development loud repeated descending inversion of the first theme in the brass, which Welser-Most then rushed –making this listener even more furtively want to press for a bottle of Dramamine. Tentative retransition was then made over repeat-note triplets to carry line forward – with Welser-Most first allowing too much slack, then muscling string figuration toward starting the Recapitulation to compensate. Erratic also was Welser-Most’s bending of descending brass lines off the crest to this to something bordering on jazzy or salsa in effect. Solo horn ending section by making portamento throughout single pitch clearly indicated already troubled intonation from the brass - until re-gathering of poise to recapitulate the second theme.

After well marked change of cadence most unique to this original or 1887 version, Welser-Most regained control of line to follow into the coda section, until brass made strange bend, almost yawn out of reprise of the main theme of the first movement. Brief change to tonal center a whole tone above – D Minor – offered tempting opportunity to expressively shape descant lines in the violins, yet transition to this got smoothed out to where it no longer offered any semblance of profile. With proportions of three-fourths to eighty percent of the finale to this mostly somewhat awry – indicative of conductor having taken on some of what is here for granted – robbed then was cumulatively well extended cadence and C Major chord of feeling that all must remain there for so long.

While one should be grateful for even this chance to hear 1887 performed – for insights it provides into the genesis of this masterpiece, one might have expected better of Cleveland - their virtuosity so clearly evident - than especially their haphazard taking on of the finale. This music can not compensate for any inability to grasp form that even here with its self-consciously lengthy anchoring of cadences and of transitions between sections, still makes very compelling blueprint for all of what was eventually to come.

There is also to account for here the brighter tone, the more overt fervor of the 1887 version, with as so well subtly pointed out by Georg Tintner a tug toward being able to hear allusions this symphony makes to its immediate predecessor. With all this beautifully intact, the last three symphonies of Bruckner ultimately indeed do become one great opus in a sense, unrivalled by anything else. Welser-Most, with the shallow, two-dimensional perspective with which he offered much of the 1887 version, that in return denied him security this way – missed making anything out of such links. Thank heavens, for such insights this version offers, it still exists, that even with a little greater formal clarity the revision offers, in its even challenging the Sixth as what Bruckner openly considered his most daring or adventurous. Even with what further horizons the Ninth opens out, nothing Bruckner wrote could deserve this status more than his Eighth.

In provocatively, jauntily irreverent fashion, the program opened with Cleveland veteran keyboardist Joela Jones playing the Variations on ‘America’ and Postlude in F by Charles Ives. She made utter simplicity of rhetoric out of both works - with their wittily odd turns of phrase, exotic changes of harmony, slithering about. The holding on to several pitches in the latter, usually so misplaced as though not at all to belong well to any chord out of which good cadence can emerge, was conspicuous, as intended.

In-between - for small ensemble of brass, bells, percussion – came the Ives piece From the Steeples to the Mountains, just somewhat in Ivesian fashion taken on haphazardly here. It was so more than in how it is written – as window for some of what was to come with Bruckner on the meatier, weightier second half of this Cleveland Orchestra expo for one out of two evenings at Edinburgh. For a much warmer, fuller take on the 1887 Bruckner Eighth, the Georg Tintner recording, a real bargain, also has always supple but the firmer grip on the architectonics of this than does Welser-Most or especially late-career Gunter Wand (1890 only) for either version.

NPR - SFO 2009-2010: Topics of exotic malevolence - Steph Blythe la zingara, Nadja Michael Judaean princess. Il Trovatore. Salome. Nicola Luisotti.

This I believe to have been third time in a row to pick up Il Trovatore in the David McVicar production, originating in Chicago and then borrowed by the Met. Sondra Radvanovsky has been cast therein as Leonora each time; she had already sung it well in Houston in 2005 when Lyric’s opened, to resounding acclaim. On paper, this Trovatore looked definitely reliable. On this occasion however, much unevenness became more the rule than the exception.

There have been issues all along with the distribution of breath in the singing of Sondra Radvanovsky, that for all the sincerity, good intentions she reliably puts forth, she has been able to disguise or hide quite well for some time now. Here due to a combination of factors she came to grief however. Some easier among extended passages she was still able to make buoyant – especially on any crests to the line that refrain from going too high, such as during arioso right before ‘Tacea la notte’ in Act One – and arioso outside the convent to poignantly help begin the finale to Act Two. Some narrowness, constriction of the flow of air toward goal of producing more sound just simply got in her way - together with compromise of one or two other factors she had trouble in overcoming. Sogginess of line and of intonation overcame La Rad for concluding ‘Tacea la notte”

The same issues plus inability to sustain line well afflicted “D’amor sull’ali rosee”; she then started the Miserere tentatively and until Luisotti freed up a little extra space for her, the cabaletta after the Miserere was flat and minimal in shape– with what determination must take over here. We still got the idea of some nobility of character, but much heavy attack and droopy quality left Leonora somewhat incomplete in conception this go at it.

Stephanie Blythe made the strongest impression of anybody here. Profile to the line, trill and other ornamentation was all complete in “Stride la vampa”, together and with fine sound making it all believable. Sense of narrative continued strong through tale to follow - high notes secure. By into pair of duets to close her first scene, one began to notice however Blythe glibly editorializing on what she was singing. If she can not believe her own lines as to what purpose she is putting them, how should we? Such was the case too during Act Three in dialogue with the Count.’ Blythe then started out well for the final scene, in prison, but well before a ringing, triumphant high B at the end, she very curiously began playing with placement, vowels during “Ai sacri monti.” Vocally, just about all the goods were on display; but so far this Azucena lacked real authority.

Marco Berti started off his evening by singing his offstage serenade too loud, then greeted Leonora wobbly, and coasted through trios to follow, lacking sufficient defiance for both to end each of the first two acts. He then started messing with his placement, pushing, forcing, chopping up his lines, and similarly forthrightly ruined “Ah sib en mio” with much choppiness and loss of intonation. “Di quella pira” lacked heroism, and it was not until the first half a dozen pages of the final scene that Berti rediscovered his gift for being a lyric. He then returned to making conventional brute out of Manrico as he sounded most of the way before It sounded too as though this reprise of the McVicar production had started making exaggerated shtick out of some gesture one expects of this production.

Such being the case, next in line so afflicted was Dmitri Hvorostovsky as di Luna – heard from the Met last time opposite Marcelo Alvarez as Manrico – an insufficiently heroic lyric for the part like Berti, but very tasteful in musical and interpretive choices he made. In quality of the singing at the Met Hvorostovsky provided, he was more than a match to Berti. Here instead we got a hectoring, bullying, yelling, unsubtle stock villain. He started off well, di Luna’s venomous contempt in Act One for Manrico showing up well. “Il balen”, taken too strictly, got hectored, became choppy and also quite venerable sounding – after blasting of a high G right before the aria to reveal to any doubters what vocal prowess he has left.

Hvoirostovsky later then made incredulity of di Luna at what is only apparent change in romantic fortune for di Luna exaggerated to point of schoolboy naivete. One only heard vestiges, passage here and there to indicate either the still natural beauty of Hvorostovsky’s voice or of his ability to make anything more elevated than cardboard, two-dimensional of the Count. Most musical and sounding good in intent were Messenger, Ines, and the pensive Ruiz. Burak Bilgili, sounding well as though he fully understood the part of Ferrando, was vocally uneven with tremulous handling of some sustained notes, but halfway decent mastery of tricky turns and gruppetti for his opening racconta.

Nicola Luisotti conducted an utterly shapeless Trovatore. He frequently secured good sound out of the San Francisco opera orchestra, but with sound while under pressure, that got pushed up, even hooty, unyielding. He has figured out from somewhere how to dig in, make the most of the darkest, most brooding transitions in this opera, but even at times framing a (lengthy) phrase, often failed to make something to connect a succeeding number to such gesture in the opera.

Before the cabaletta had really become obsolete, Verdi through incisive marking and exact tempo markings, made something of them in Trovatore to push action forward - to even begin redefining the concept as something to perhaps have exited more quickly than it had, had Verdi ignored doing so. Here then comes Luisotti to take all the sap, the gas out of these passages, not for tempo being wrong or eccentric, as just being so willing to lightly put his orchestra on auto-pilot and gently coast right through. There were places too, in quasi-improvisatory writing, especially for instance in Leonora’s Act Four aria, even before changeover to that therein Luisotti must have reckoned having transcended issue of who should be following whom – issue having threatened to arise several times already. After unevenly light, weightless accompaniment to duet and cabaletta with the Count to come, he started the final scene with good, circumspect weighting of what transpired, but once just past Leonora’s final entreaties to Manrico at point the Count has entered, too late for entreaty to do much of any good, Luisotti insisted on mechanically pacing Leonora’s descant in string of broken appoggiaturas to extent it no longer made sense how this passage got written so expressively.

Luisotti’s jumping over rests before start of two different sections, for instance giving Marco Berti a really hard push into his first duet with Azucena in Act Two, was equally inelegant. Indecisively, he first rushed brief interlude into the Count’s first entrance in Act One, then jerked the passage back to apply Karajan-esque weight on chords right before moment the Count enters. With Marco Berti eventually entering flat, Luisotti distorted rhythm of a rushed Miserere in Act Four to where it became something resembling being in three, several minutes after sensitive pointing of concertato in winds opening Act Four. His pulverizing of the opera’s final chords in E-Flat Minor, targeted with silly accelerando, was so hard that final chord upon which Trovatore lands was hardly anymore identifiable.

This was conducting at times so insensitive both to Verdi’s demands and to singers, it made one momentarily doubt even Luisotti’s credentials as a coach; he however skillfully managed to avoid falling into several traps for unwary conductors the score offers, even practically with aplomb, to indicate that such ‘taking control’ of it all, likely had as much to do with ego as with inexperience – so much so at several points that it practically made one wish that his vanity could have taken him far enough to fall right in. In return, he got the worst performances I have heard yet from his two male leads, including the previously fine lyric tenor Marco Berti, and also arguably from Sondra Radvanovsky. Luisotti got Berti off on the wrong foot, by allowing him to sound as though standing right before the footlights for the very (and most often) offstage beginning to his part. Having this even sound placed halfway so far forward begins to make nonsense out of the dramatic situation - such out of which one can only construe what a real goof Leonora must be.

Extraneous stage noise, such as near start of a crudely pumped Anvil Chorus indicated well a lack of focus or even of purpose to the entire effort here. Nothing happened to either erase memory of Bruno Bartoletti’s highly authoritative conducting, pacing of Trovatore with Lyric on his fiftieth anniversary with Lyric, or of even shockingly near as good, Gianandrea Noseda’s conducting of what turned into a new Met production two years later in 2009. Walter Fracarro, a certainly less ingratiating lyric than Berti I hope still can be, made more sense overall of Manrico in Chicago; Radvanovsky proved much more up to the still more daunting task of singing Leonora on both occasions. Hvorstovsky had also been very fine as di Luna.

Hardly more satisfyingly turned out Strauss’s Salome, except mostly for the expertly turned Herod of Kim Begley. This was Nicola Luisotti’s first attempt to conduct Salome, and certainly while some allowance should be made, there appeared little relevant impetus behind taking it on.

Nadja Michael, mezzo converted up to being a soprano, made somewhat heavy weather of the Judaean princess. Whereas in the past Grace Bumbry might have been squallier in her stab at it, had Michael put the level or amount of energy into acting and singing it, it is hard to imagine how it would not have turned out squallier than Bumbry had been. A few lighter moments intermittently worked for Michael, such as where she first entered, for which Michael communicated the princess’s private nervous expectations very well. The well anticipated low notes for gaze down the cistern housing Jokanaan were good, but Michael’s matronly ‘Er ist schrecklich’ on first observing Jokanaan above ground was choked, swallowed.

Michael’s first amorous overtures to Jokanaan had good simple ardor forthright, all going well, until having to negotiate the break and a very unsteady top. Incisive was her start to expression of disgust with the prophet’s hair, but with again having to apply additional stress on the voice, all turned frumpy hausfrau for about the entire rest of the scene - with Michael and Luisotti together carefully plotting how pacing of all this should proceed. Including her sounding hardly distinguishable from your average Herodias for some of the more malicious lines therein, the final scene, all the rest sounded carefully anticipated, but heavily vocalized, uncertain of pitch. She in effect made nonsense out of “Und das Geheimnis … des Todes” for their being no contrast at all between quality of her sound around what should be the break (and light there) and her low notes.

Irina Mishura was the stately, vocally opulent Herodias – remindful of Larissa Diadkova at the Met, except that Diadkova’s tone may have been the more sensuous. Here was a good piece of singing, no doubt, but seemingly misapplied. Not all sense of irritability and then evil glee about Herodias was lost, but vocal poise got maintained practically at all costs. Greer Grimsley provided a grim, poised interpretation of Jokanaan, but missing some of the fanaticism of the prophet, many of his lines cosseted by well parked orchestral support. A few notes at top of his range turned unsteady, and some of his final lines, which should speak more ominously than some of the rest, came across vaguely church-style – at least sanctimoniously right before the sonorous feeling with which Julien Robbins eloquently invested his lines as First Nazarene. Dramatic engagement with the Salome during scene together was minimal, but little provided Grimsley for it to improve upon that from either Michael or Luisotti.

Answered by very well sung, acted Page by Elisabeth DeShong, Garrett Sorensen proved musical, but a little strained by the part of Narraboth, and Sorensen at loss for failure to turn up much agitation or excitement underneath his lines – moment of the captain’s death handled flaccidly – from orchestra following, accompanying him up to this point. Beau Gibson led quarreling consort of Jews very capably, incisively.

Kim Begley was the least encumbered by any of the principals of this cast by the characterless, limp leadership of Nicola Luisotti. The energy, vitality behind Herod’s neurotic agitation was missing to extent it could have sounded ludicrous for Begley to compensate toward ratcheting it all up to where it need be all on his own. Begley had the right feeling of lilt for all the waltz-like character of music in attempting to make Salome concede to his wishes, whether Luisotti had it more than tentatively or not. Except for one falsetto whelp near the end of long post-dance dialogue with Salome, one probably can not remember a better sung Herod from Begley than this one – with his being prudent that it all be sung instead of barked, shouted, etc. One has experienced a Herod more frantic at attempting to make Salome concede here, but otherwise from Begley - a little unusual coming alone from the Herod - one could find a compass steadily working to mark how this music really should go.

Other than securing a fine, lustrous sound out of the San Francisco Opera orchestra, Nicola Luisotti’s conducting of this score, not entirely free of unnecessary vulgarity or of ensemble problems, was altogether tentative. Dynamics got brought down considerably from where marked not to cut into or altogether drown out singing by Nadja Michael or Greer Grimsley – and then not to lose place in fugato for quarreling Jews. Feeling for waltz-like rhythms was missing beyond just a generic best guess at them; snarls from brass intruding upon them and other intrusions lacking so much snap or menace.

Dance of the Seven Veils dragged, with Luisotti making careful, measured pacing of most of it. One got a little accelerando here, some clipping of rests there to bump up the pace, attempt to get some vitality going, but electric current of neuroticism that should run through about the entirety of this score went missing. Even some of the most obvious dramatic moments, that even a tentative Valery Gergiev emphasized well at the Met six years ago did not clearly register here. Some knowledge of the score beforehand was obvious, but not quite sufficient toward knowing what it is that might make any of this score click.

Underlining of contrabasson’s impish solos – one right before Herod’s first entrance – proved entirely contrary to purpose - as did Luisotti’s perfectly metrically timed runs to portray wind of which Herod is neurotically cognizant – all as perfectly steady, hinged as callous reproaches one hears next from Herodias. Following solo timpani getting the Salome motif as crisply as it should have sounded numerous times already, to introduce Herod calling his step-daughter a monster, Luisotti made all flat-line the passage accompanying Salome’s “Ach, ich habe deinen Mund gekusst.” Low repeated elaborate dissonance in organ and brass became unexceptional and equally as this, as anything else the notoriously loud bitonal chord to ring out several measures later. Question always remained of what might have drawn Nicola Luisotti to conduct this – both at War Memorial, then soon thereafter at Bologna’s Teatro Communale – other than to add just another staple to his repertoire.

BBC Proms 2010: Proms 69 and 71. Royal Scottish Nat'l Orch, Stephane Deneve. Paul Lewis. Orch Nat'l de France. Daniele Gatti.

Prom 69. Royal Scottish National Orchestra. Stephane Deneve. Paul Lewis. Royal Albert Hall, London. September 6, 2010.

This was Stephane Deneve's third visit to the Proms, but my second encounter thereof, each time with his orchestra for past five years - the Royal Scottish National. He opened this new program with music of Hector Berlioz. Whereas his stance with 'Roman Carnival' was less reduced to so much hectoring and empty bombast as was his portentous and pretentious 'fantastique' of five years back, it still hardly betrayed there being somebody French on the podium conducting it. The 'fantastique' could only remind one of Solti's stiff Teutonic, dull rendition for Decca with Chicago some thirty-five years back. 'Roman Carnival' Overture here hung together better as one piece. but romanza introduced on English Horn beared down on a bit much and bacchanale to follow lacked more than adequate incisiveness, animation from within (as opposed to just on the surface - bacchanale joined by chorus within opera Benevenuto Cellini itself).

The best orchestral playing of the evening came with the three interludes from opera 'The Sacrifice' by James MacMillan - played like this music is likely in these musicians' blood. The story apparently deals with initially forbidden love between rival or warring clans with violent consequences - that forwards itself within action therein to involve a succeeding generation. The modal characteristics of the melodic shapes and harmonies well portray here the pagan roots of a culture on display. Refreshing for this fifteen minutes worth of orchestral writing in the opera (two outer interludes perhaps collated of two interludes a piece from the opera itself), is the greater simplicity in especially organization this presents for the music of MacMillan. Minimalism, much over-scoring in its usage has made itself a considerable crutch for MacMillan, often hampering before what mastery of orchestration he obviously possesses. His Third Symphony, 'The Silence', midway through its thirty-five minute length makes one hanker for just that exactly - silence. With what few lapses these interludes contain – i.e. the settling for conventional writing to close a mostly imaginatively engaging Passcaglia at center thereof – they make up a staple incapable of prematurely wearing out its welcome.

Pizzicato opening, light marking of theme on downbeats, sounds modeled along example of Anton Webern - development thereof positively Britten-esque instead. One place directly reminds of the middle section of 'Storm' from Peter Grimes - as though it might have been lifted from it and altered just somewhat - practically same scoring for winds and light percussion and equally gigue resembling rhythmic pattern. Much varied instrumentation during first three-fourths of the Passcaglia’s variations rescues this music from sounding excessively derivative too soon.

The brooding quality of the opening interlude 'The Parting, with brilliant flourish highlighting measured tread and chorale (mostly in brass) far below is highly evocative - as this music makes steady progress through remotely related sonorities. A toccata like impulsivity gets the final interlude, 'The Investiture' under way, with accenting in one episode thereof that also holds its own very well – offset by plaintive cry in the winds, as derived from the earlier interludes. Brass triads skipping about by mostly perfect fifths set against toccata motion in the strings animate how this movement opens. Jagged line against steady ostinato later into it left hint of 'Rite' or of same composer’s Symphony in Three Movements.

Central on this program was Paul Lewis's crowning performance of the Fifth to complete cycle of the five piano concerti of Beethoven - equally a success for him as the four previous. The more obviously majestic, or if you will, hieratic aspects of this music interested Lewis less than how they seemed to engage Deneve. My impression perhaps still influenced by studio recordings, my recollection of Lewis's mentor Alfred Brendel playing the 'Emperor' as being somewhat literal, matter-of-fact (a little more so than on the earlier concerti) has remained perhaps a little too much so of a scaled-down 'Emperor.' The intellectual rigor Geoffrey Norris (Daily Telegraph) has found in Paul Lewis’s playing neither got yielded to or intimidated by an element of fantasy and caprice with which Lewis was frequently at the ready to engage the ear. Lewis's sustaining of line through much varied figuration and flourish and most of all through this music's sense of simplicity to overarching cantilena, lyric line was very convincing. By into the rondo finale to this, the admiring Stephane Deneve, in striving for some of what Lewis was achieving, provided extra lift and dimension, even rollicking vigor to its main theme, albeit that Royal Scottish strings sounded slightly ragged in its more elaborate spelling out to open the rondo's closing section.

Deneve's support for Lewis was never less than efficient, but not quite his equal in capturing the imagination Lewis brought to his playing - in especially building a character of subtly, sometimes not so subtly shifting temperament as solo part in this indicates. The enharmonic spellings through shifting harmonies definitely captured Lewis's ear, even if Lewis and Deneve together sounded a bit enigmatic at what mild shifts of tempo transpired - but with what harmonic ear and imagination at work at the keyboard (and warm .contribution from Royal Scottish horns) It took Lewis's entrance in the intermezzo second movement to breathe much life into it; his varied color and ever commanding sense of caprice animated the repetition of the rondo theme across a thoroughly encompassed harmonic kaleidoscope very effectively. Woodwind principals of the RSNO also interacted very expressively with Lewis in their lyricism - in subtly building harmonic and dramatic tension for the Development of the first movement. With Deneve hardly ever below par, even above it on occasion to match Lewis very well, this proved for a concert experience a still at times very effective rendition of the Beethoven 'Emperor' Concerto. No soloist do I recall more singular at such a comprehensive task as this cycle at the Proms than Paul Lewis. An unqualified triumph, no doubt.

Prommers last year got treated to a highly successful Italian (and for after interval, Roman) themed program by the BBC Philharmonic led by Gianandrea Noseda - 'Pines' also closing it that came very close to making for itself apt comparison with the examples of Toscanini and Muti. Comparatively speaking, the Villa Borghese proms, with lighter sonorities of the RSNO efficiently sounding forth, gave like the Berlioz earlier on this program more of a surface impression than could make for itself also such comparison. Sonorities were appropriately dark for the 'catacombs' pines, but a little want of pulsation to be achieved with more than just adequate depth was also slightly noticeable here. The Juniculum pines - highlighted by bell-like clear, very lyrical principal clarinet solo - Deneve took very broadly, but in taking such risk tension here was sustained and fortunately did not falter.

The Via Appia pines, leading to blazing sound from the RSNO at full throttle for conclusion to this ‘Pines’, started off with same lack as did the 'catacombs' almost eight minutes earlier. This was due to plan more according to vertical assessment of its sonorities than to line coursing up the Via Appia. So much was indicated by making arched crescendo – to emerge from flaccid backdrop to brass first making entrance with the full march theme to it. Attention to all transpiring from the hall seemed rapt; there is little doubt how much Respighi's scoring for 'Pines of Rome' makes it the showstopper it is, even in what transpired here as a merely adequate (though for particular strands through it, expressive) take on it. Such coolness in taking on 'Pines' and the preceding MacMillan perhaps finally at last bespoke some Gallic temperament in play here.

Prom 71. Orchestre National de France. Daniele Gatti. Royal Albert Hall, London. September 7, 2010.

This marked first visit to the Proms by Orchestre National de France (ONF) under their new leadership, that of Italian maestro Daniele Gatti. A conventional mostly Gallic program got arranged for the occasion. Word got out quite fast about a miscue during Procession of the Stage from Part One of ‘Rite of Spring’ – cutting off lower brass for measure or two, leaving remaining brass, other members of the ONF high and dry. Had one listened very carefully – lest Royal Albert acoustics be drier than I imagined – also missing was nearly a beat and a half of tremolo in the violins connecting abrupt stop to the commotion of ‘Danse sacrale’ to fleet upward run rapidly preparing final collapse – perhaps more than Gatti could handle to fit his beat pattern to Rite’s final measures.

‘Rite of Spring’ received a conservative interpretation, tame by any standards – should especially one be hearing this music afresh. High principal bassoon very adeptly, lightly led off fine consort of ONF woodwinds to start things off, yet attention to pulsation underneath much growing activity appeared listless. Placement of high pitched solo clarinet for his fanfare cry sounded indecisive. ‘Augurs of Spring’, with its pounding rhythms, Gatti took at seemingly collegially achieved breezy pace. Increasingly shaky ensemble held back impact of how the stomping dance concludes.. Concertato of winds again lost secure ensemble advancing through ‘Ritual of Abduction’ even with Gatti keeping current to course through it subdued.

Calibration of contrasting antiphony of chords with high descant in the winds for ‘Spring Rounds’ was weak, pulsation to emanate thereof – with rhythm stiffly secure for brief coda to it. Other than for the primitivism of pounding offbeat timpani intact, ‘Jeux des cites rivales’ came across relatively urbane. Anticipation of procession to follow openly revealed weak spots in ensemble, rhythmic organization ahead of time – and the Dance of the Earth picked up an insipidly, casually jazzy feel, – but without sufficiently secure ensemble to match name, prestige of the ONF.

Concertati of especially winds and strings, proved the stature of this ensemble, for the fine textures and sonorities they achieved to introduce Part Two. Into Cercles mysterieux, Gatti contented himself with airbrushing away some definition of its obviously gentler steps. Gatti gave accelerando into ‘Glorification d’elue’ insipid lift, esprit, as though all that should follow should be light. Loose sway to its rhythms were just so to keep expenditure of vitality efficient – only threatening to be reprise of the hoochie-koochie as can be learned from example of both Karajan and Maazel (with New York at Proms two years ago and more so on Telarc). It would have been especially unbecoming, irritating for a French orchestra to pick up on such as well – but hardly anymore inconceivable. Gatti was only partially successful at compensating for overall lack of savagery by letting bass drum have at his part. Things failed to reassemble poise until ‘Action rituelle’ – organized well but its more ferocious accents softened.

Tentative start to ‘Danse sacrale’ presaged prudent assessment of how to start and continue its main section – voicing of loud segue into reprise thereof that clumsily bordered on resembling exercise at sight-reading Brahms. Place for timpani to let rip, as assisted by brass became hardly better guesswork at keeping it together than Maazel attempting it two years ago. Not quite as unsatisfactory ‘Rite’ as afflicted the Proms for three out of the past five, but hardly better than one cut above - not in same class at all with that of the young Ilan Volkov with his BBC Scottish last year.

The Debussy on the first half still fared less well – embarrassingly so at times. Flute principal for opening to ‘apres-midi d’un faune’ provided good, though lightly vibrato laced tone, yet flaccid shape to it all. Gatti then made heaving out of gently swaying reach in full section of violins to anticipate third reprise of the opening solo (accompanied by harp) – as such to then spin off into fine arabesque, but all still rendered shapeless here. Debussy’s prudent marking of ‘Sans trainer (‘not dragging’) went completely by the wayside to effect that a next marking of ‘Cedez un peu’ for hardly much animation gained in-between seemed hardly possible to make anything yield anymore than it had already – without reminding one of one Debussy compact disc I keep around – by aging Celibidache with the Munich PO of Iberia and La Mer (EMI) – that for reason of being unintentionally so risible I would not trade it in for any other. Debussy could not have instead written in any of it any similar tempo shift – albeit for negation to include right in front of it, had he heard this. All this should anticipate relaxed central reverie to follow, but here rendered at general sameness of tempo and with no distinctive shape.

Pace for the remainder of ‘Afternoon of a Faun’ remained steady, yet with excess of love bestowed upon recurring reprise of the tone poem’s opening, making it altogether cloy. Whatever parody or send-up on Impressionism Rene Magritte may have concocted, Gatti made it sensible for Magritte to have been so mischievous. Anyone who might have made such an ‘apres-midi one’s point of reference and already listened to it ten times certainly would have found even the veritably fine rendition by Metzmacher in Berlin seem altogether two-dimensional by comparison. Making something so hazy, gauzy, so oddly impressionistic of Afternoon of a Faun as happened here indeed even more offset any relevant sense of perspective whatsoever. It was such that could have been piped in over street art or fire sale with cheap water colors predominant.- of which vendor might have trouble ridding himself.

‘La Mer’ fared little better. The only issue I had with Jun Markl’s ‘La Mer’ from last summer’s Proms, so deft in touch in being what turned out even philosophically evocative, was with a little thinness in his Lyon strings. His interpretation along with Volkov’s ‘Sacre’ from last summer now has one wanting to invoke either man for strong consideration of what position might open next most favorable for conducting this repertoire before long. As for thinness of string textures, what was one to make of barely audible at all string tremoli at moment of stillness midway through ‘Jeux des ‘vagues’ here (pentatonic spelling over C Major chord far beneath)? Light, deftly achieved play with the waves otherwise made ‘Jeux des vagues’ the most successful of four Debussy movements before the interval, but Gatti’s timidly improvisatory take on the opening of the movement came close to approaching being a Berio-esque handling of its varying strands. ONF strings then uncharacteristically made quite a shouting contest – over brass hardly ever louder than mezzo-forte – just amongst their section, in achieving sufficiently loud climax toward concluding ‘Jeux des vagues.’. Gatti then to pointless extent perfumed the inevitable reprise of harp glissandi.

‘De l’aube a midi’ opened with deep resonance, but with little pulsation to guide motion through it – toward having one hope that it might all be over at a quarter of rather than almost half past instead. Enveloping slight pauses for each strand of activity distracted from hope of building up any overall flow to anything got rendered amorphous, so whispered to be practically inaudible. Supple shape was achieved of opening main idea but solo flute spinning off of arabesque sagged toward altogether losing then all shape. Antiphony of descending tremoli in divided violins got played so softly as to be difficult to make adequate differentiation within it all. Gatti then heavily leaned on muted trumpet line to hold fast ensemble through animated stretto to finishthe finale’s opening episode.

Shanty for middle section sounded so besotted, phlegmatic as to render sensation of all about thick. Should one read BP’s press releases, even more incredulously believe them, one might reckon just a handful of Milk of Magnesia bottles to squiggle about the Gulf might suffice to clean up the mess – or at least keep ‘dem boys at sea regular – ill with gas pains from bad odor all about. (Could Paris’s fashion design and publicity firm magnates, owners perhaps also be Republicans?). Experience of having lived near shoreline across which water has often looked pale shade of vinaigrette – as off Seawall in Galveston – could perhaps make one plenty cynical. Generically universal similar assessment perhaps has been this ‘La Mer.’ Debussy’s marking of Presque lent to anticipate ‘Tres lent’ opening of coda to follow began to all seem an utter impossibility, lest we be in aging Celi territory once more. And so what appeared instead an embalming at sea – to endure perhaps a little longer than half past – travailed on.

Garden variety clipping of eruptions from lower strings to open La Mer hardly meant the detachment Debussy may have had in mind, more than from anybody else cheaply doing so. Much immediately following got heavily compartmentalized. Similarly to moments toward end of the first movement, Debussy’s notable marking of ‘Plus calme’ - for tranquil, expansive refrain to open second half of the finale - became a real impossibility. Connection between lines, following heavily gilded cry in high trumpet to taper off much agitation arising right before, through preceding episode, all got lost for so much nuance layered on. Equal level of massage got applied to lines in the high woodwinds to sing refrain mentioned right above. Hardly indicative of any grasp of form either were the concluding more agitated episodes – trio of sputtering clipped muted trumpets, for so much pointing of them, threatening to derail much else. Effort on final reaches started from lower strings sounded so hard to practically make self-parody of it – and with, for all the effort, ensemble just barely together for a rowdy conclusion to it all.

Edward Seclerson’s assessment of Gatti as restoring to ‘Rite’ its capacity to shock by, hardly more than rare occasion to have missed entrances should have any of us wanting to phone EMS on his behalf should he ever be found coming near the composer’s own 1940 New York PO or one of the better Igor Markevitch renditions. A general shrug of ‘much ado about nothing’ then to anyone who found Gatti’s choice of encore deflating – perhaps his pitch to the green hill toward picking up next big assignment there – Act Three prelude to Die Meistersinger. After a much reckoned slow, but overall just inoffensively dull Parsifal two summers ago, the noble profile Gatti found - delivered well by especially ONF strings and brass – for this brief excerpt’s eloquent lines made for sensible conclusion to an evening of lifeless reading to repertoire with which this celebrated ensemble has been associated for many years.

BBC Proms 2010: Proms 66 and 67. Berlin Philharmonic, Simon Rattle. Karita Mattila ravishing for Strauss Four Last Songs.

Prom 66. Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. Sir Simon Rattle. Royal Albert Hall, London. September 3, 2010.

Way to open symphony reminiscent of one previous is how the Mahler First Symphony begins – only vaguely referring back to start to the Beethoven Fourth. Opening to the Beethoven, even given its enlightened classicism is particularly mysterious - sounding most likely to introduce some thorough philosophical conceit into the mix. The irony is that what follows in the Mahler First – comparatively naive opening so evocative of Nature, gradual awakening of it all - prefigures more along philosophical lines than on the surface does the rest of the Beethoven. There is an elusive beauty about the Beethoven Fourth - the simplicity of design, even a turned inward quality that makes it more complex organism than it appears – so deceptively simple at its surface.

One writer attending this mentioned much fussiness on Rattle’s part at interpreting these two symphonies. If anything, here was a greater flexibility, subtler limning of detail from within, making the Beethoven Fourth a more thorough experience than achieved on disc before with the Vienna Philharmonic – disc that had the more overt 'period' accents, drier quality, etc. One might speculate that it might be some new found liberty on Rattle's part to relax his quasi-'period' approach to Beethoven to include therein nuance to more appreciably articulate the formal and expressive content of this music. It is certainly appreciable for Rattle to have made this kind of shift that in having developed doing so seemed quite the opposite of fussy or mettlesome instead.

Deeply expressive again, as on EMI, was the introduction to the first movement, with slightly warmer sonority from the strings of Berlin. Sense of groping one's way through several remote harmonic transitions was just about equally acute between both - both equally suggestive of so much else - for us to fill in the blanks what the rest may be. Rattle made bracing the opening to the Allegro vivace both times, but gracefully then yielded onrush through it all to make suppler rubato here into first movement's second subject. Line, with accenting beautifully placed in context of all else, through the Development, was free and secure - most expressive on turn of phrase where it counts. Ease into making well proportioned retransition also contributed to Rattle's success here. It was only with approach to brief coda to the first movement that playing momentarily sounded under threat of becoming congested.

The Adagio here opened less assuredly, with Rattle's marking of dotted rhythm accompaniment to flaccid assumption of opening melodic line all phlegmatic, until winds repeated it. Rattle then pulled in firm the louder reprise of introducing accompaniment, followed by winds singing freely the Adagio’s opening theme. Approach to very lyrically played second theme on clarinet was gently spacious, but also as to point one’s view toward gradually increasing sense of agitation under the music’s surface. Phlegmatic handling of the tutti during the Development contrasted with pensive, hardly self-conscious spelling out of lightly scored completion of approaching reprise of the first theme and then a practically Italianate, vocalized spinning out of melodic line in the violins off broadly approached arpeggios from lower strings. Militaristic accents, culminating in menacing drum roll to frame final cadence made incipiently arousing to dissent, rebellion of sorts afoot even here.

The Scherzo here began rushed, almost clipped, but fortunately less conspicuously so than on EMI. Such healthy thrust in and of itself is of course much within character of essentially a sped-up minuet with from the get-go plentiful misplaced accenting. Rattle made amply spacious the antiphony of broad spelling of diminished chords to expressive effect. Trio section, with enhancing contrast of swagger with cadential dotted rhythms, was warm and especially from among fully cantabile Berlin winds.

In comparison with the more doctrinaire relentless pace with perpetuum mobile of a finale with the Viennese, Rattle within venture of slightly rethinking what he had achieved before, did not undercut a constantly running pulsation to it by opening things out here. Less intimidating then was the less frantic pace for principal basson reprise of opening statement in Berlin than in Vienna. As recidivist as it may sound, the graceful shaping, limning of the finale's second theme sounded remindful of Beecham - of what he had in his interpretative arsenal by way of graceful turn of phrase to apply to his Beethoven. Thorough capture of internal accenting on closing theme continued buoyant and free - with insinuating subversive or revolutionary accent underneath - attempt for this music to break its bounds never much distance away.

That Watteau-esque coloring of how the Mahler First opened got caught very mildly self-conscious would have one not mistake this playing for Concertgebouw - as under Haitink several decades ago. Tempo was broad for much of the first movement - stillness of all to the symphony's opening very rapt; long breathed retransition in place of Development later brought all intensely close to a standstill while keeping anticipation alive of overt frolic to come - heralded with fine clarity here by consort of French horns.

'Ging heut morgen', once picked up by the violins, let all sunlight in - after purposefully groping long ascent toward it to close the Introduction. Pointing of small accenting in the Development and elsewhere sounded just like world as easily captured in Webern's Im Sommerwind as in any Mahler. Introduction of darker accents foreshadowing drama to follow later entered guilelessly, bucolically from there. Buildup to far reach from behind for change to blazing D Major, fortunately without turbo-charging either anticipation or arrival made for ensuing strongly characterized merriment all the way through too frequently odd sounding ending to the first movement.

Rattle then effectively worked into the opulence of the tone of his Berliners fully achieved charge of earthiness into the Scherzo that made shaping of it most natural with no exaggerated dynamics - even while slightly tentative on a few downbeats here - as opposed to turbo-charged rewrite of Beethoven 7 the Development section so often resembles. For a true stickler, Rattle might have seemed free with Mahler's tempo markings, subtle relationships therein; little there was to interfere with genuinely ardent, while lingering, feel to this. Even with some gratuitous italicization, vigorous reprise brought the Scherzo to a cumulatively, earthily robust conclusion.

Solo double-bass on minor mode Frere Jacques played it vibrato-less for so very ruddy a sound, even at minor cost to intonation. All klezmer, even unabashedly from ultra-gilded violins was then made of wind band march. Violins then drooped naively, wearily in making transition back. Mildly self-conscious was very covered handling of start to lyrical episode quoting concluding part of the fourth Gesellen lied, before soon inviting back feeling for the naïve simplicity of it all. Quite convincingly, if dryly characterized was a relatively acrid odour to all air about with reprise of 'Frere Jacques' raised a half-step - as to somberly recall 'der irdisches Leben' – from instead the Wunderhorn lieder. Besotted toned bassoon helped bring all to its dour, mildly somber end.

Pacing of agitated opening to the finale sounded here mildly held back, with direct feel for accenting this music achieved, if anti-climactically with arrival of Exposition first theme. The most trouble encountered here thus far came with anticipation of episode thematically borrowing from musing over the death of Abel near end of the first part of 'Klagende Lied.’ Rattle then chose to layer things on thick. There was the haloed quality with the strings to sustain main idea through this passage, but naivete of such reminiscence oddly got almost entirely eradicated. Zuruckhaltend to achieve Mahler's practically vocalized opulent approach to final cadence here became unfeasible. Transition back to music indicative of how the finale opens was slightly glib; eschewing wisely however the making too much of the two dramatic transitions to follow was welcome, toward saving up for greater to come.

Obtrusive holding back then recurred until stealthy reprise of march strands from the first movement brought all bucolically back to life – working toward festive, bright, never overstated conclusion. If mind intermittently got led to wander during the finale, this Mahler First still turned out a very fine qualified success – so refreshing to encounter such a frequently engaging approach to very familiar terrain.

Prom 67. Berlin Philharmonic. Sir Simon Rattle. Guy Braunstein (leader). Karita Mattila. Royal Albert Hall, London. September 4, 2010.
Central to this Prom was the generous heap of short character pieces one set each from Arnold Schoenberg and his two disciples. As Simon Rattle has said, one does hear with immediacy how moments from each set of pieces comment on those from other sets so frequently. Complete appreciation of especially Alban Berg’s Three Pieces would be to reckon it alone as complete - chock full of content as any Mahler symphony – as opposed to making mammoth opus out of practically too much.

Sandwiching Anton Webern’s Opus 6 pieces between Schoenberg and Berg made them seem shorter than they are. How much more their character, all well played here, would speak, should this set be played between stylistically contrasting works instead. All three sets of pieces presented were written at height of Expressionist phase for the Second Vienna School – whereas there was considerable variety of form and idiom in which all three men wrote. All fourteen pieces given in one long haul offers ‘atonal’ expressionism at its peak at level of concentrate. Trespass however of unwritten limit on amount musicians and audience members can partake will dilute what can be processed thereof - even with fastidious effort put forth here.

The oxymoron is that with an urbane quality already characterizing Simon Rattle’s music-making, presenting so much together here provided cover. The edge of hearing the dissonance in this music has diminished over time, yet it is best within logical constraints to make the most of it. Most certainly the fragmentation one encounters here is unlike anything before, yet anticipated in the music of Johannes Brahms. One virtue of hearing Schoenberg from a recidivist perspective is in how doing so can severely undercut deceptive notion that this music is atonal. This was most evident during ‘Das obligate rezitativ’ (fifth piece), but at cost of smoothing out some of the hard edges one still should run up against. Stern brass made implacable presence felt toward its conclusion, but with Interweaving arioso among various solo instruments hearkening back to the late period chamber music of Brahms – his manifold extensions over the bar line, overlapping each other at times therein.

Lack of urgency for cellos’ thrusting motif somewhat held things back for ‘Premonitions’, starting Schoenberg’s Five Pieces, Opus 16. Oboe descent to low trill gave off more droll irony than agitation, alongside dour low intoning from trombones, all making interesting take on starting things off. Lightly played, almost clipped figuration in flutes sounded though like a combination of being shirked off and merely decorative instead of part of cumulative spinning into the overall maelstrom of the first piece. Much the same held true for similar incidence during ‘Peripetie’ (fourth piece). Brass made oppressive, stern their marcia collation of several motifs – big recapitulatory moment in Berg’s ‘Marsch later to recall it. Testament to the virtuosity of the Berlin PO, the placed back audibility of violins’ ostinati behind loud brass was very compelling.

Simon Rattle picked up on fleeting introspection from solo clarinet early during Peripetie’ more than on making full throttle of very jagged strands of activity starting it. Rapid fire antiphony among strings, pointed by their upward swooping portamenti and equally fast repeat-note tremolo in the trumpets made for good violent end to ‘Peripetie’ - muted brass chorale framing all forebodingly.

Individual pointing of sonorities, colors of various instruments, starting with distraught solo cello on framing motif in ‘Vergangenes’ (second piece) toward continuing line through unison clarinet and English horn, was very compelling for the two slower pieces. One acutely heard the special trading off of individually pitched resonances between well varied instrumentation to start off ‘Farben’ (Colours). Intertwining voicing between winds, violins, and muted trumpet made very subtly elaborate chamber music out of the second episode of ‘Vergangenes.’ This piece however exposed the risk of assembling together so many pieces of such acute character. Emphasized during ‘free atonal’ Schoenberg are ostinati, other figuration that break in upon the overall discourse, thoroughly interrupt it, and can also distinctively hold all still momentarily - events Michael Cherlin characterized as ‘time shards.’

Having all fourteen pieces presented as odd continuum of sorts can deny individual profile to so many of such events tucked within many of these pieces – with it so acutely brief how they appear in Webern. One needs neither to enhance much nor deny what nuance is marked therein. Very minute off-beats in mostly lower instruments intrusive upon the stillness of ‘Farben’, on the other hand, needed a little more space to resonate, whereby they better insinuate all at state of verging on virtual collapse - Rattle’s pacing of ‘Farben’, to capture its diaphanous stillness, was still circumspect.

Webern’s Opus 6 pieces opened tentatively - issue being balancing the abrupt first piece’s urgent impetus with its delicate sonorities. The second piece, marked very soft, also got smoothed out, but with wide-spaced tuba line and cry high in flutes both very expressive and anchoring opening statements in a piece lasting less than two minutes. Rattle self-consciously scrupulized figuration through arched, belabored crescendos close to midway through and ending the second piece. Rattle phlegmatically indulged reach for stretto therein with unmarked allargando; the piece’s conclusion also needed greater vehemence. After delicately tracing the klangfarbenmelodie third piece, Rattle honed in on dramatic, very measured tread of the fourth - with how lower brass made their first entrance through tight engagement upward through trumpets - through subtly placed, varied percussion for buildup to its shattering conclusion.

The fifth piece got off to the best start thus far in the Webern with pianissimo, deep, close interval lament in the horn creating illusion of vast, empty space- with tightly focused pianissimo shuddering about in lower strings to enhance the effect. Leader Guy Braunstein’s flautando very high over winds placed far back, over low pedal in solo contrabass was particularly eerie. English horn recitative spoke eloquently over steady ostinato in low harp - followed by solo viola on free inversion to echo the recitative on English horn. Dark, measured briefly passing shard of ostinato in harp offset chords in celesta over deep pedal far back for a veritably remote, ascetic end to Webern’s Opus 6.
Hubbub informing middle period Mahler and Berg’s Opus 6, reflecting the instability of pre-war Vienna suits Simon Rattle the cosmopolite well. Impetus toward conserving energy however persisted through the Berg. Grandeur of this work is such with which the often formally astute Rattle found himself at ease - other than for thickly orchestrated fury midway through Marsch fazing both him and members of his orchestra.

Praludium began restively on combined pitched, un-pitched percussion. Curiously, Rattle, settling in, secured some feel of voice leading, accumulated well in Berg’s scoring, for repeated sustained concert E-Flat in solo trombone (marked pianissimo) that perhaps should remain for sake of its character, detached from what immediately precedes it. Supple feeling for the vast scale of even this piece led to Rattle lingering over somewhat extended arioso through strings and imitative winds in anticipation of a cumulatively achieved high C. Rattle pointed well the dotted rhythm conclusion to each strand of arioso, yet within a mildly broad, less specific handling of each. Doom-laden, highly remorseful brief descending triplets in brass and dissembling rustle of string tremoli made this piece’s conclusion evocative, foreboding.

'Reigen' (Round) featured spectrally lit shimmer through wind and violin tremolo, fine lilt to its waltz rhythms, and fine pointing of detail. And yet into the first waltz refrain one noticed air of overconfidence about. There was suitable flexibility in drawing insinuation of jazz out of the brass under rhetorically anguished strings right after still episode, marked by elaborate harp glissandos. Sustenance of tension, as in many performances of this, got compromised, through trumpet paraphrase - against enormous aggregate of activity - of earlier line in the violins (just past light string tremolo marked breather for remainder of the orchestra). Harshly brilliant descending flute tremoli against dour low brass, gratuitously enveloped, sounded assured; due to some fussiness with nuance however, the febrile line that courses through all this became slightly detached – in mind of effectively shimmering conclusion to ‘Reigen.’

The fearsome Marsch though started off quite tentatively– especially with Mahlerian trilling horns polite. Besotted quality for second, most prominent instance of this was polite again - along with carefully approached crazy offbeat swooping, lunging about from full body of divided violins to follow trilling horn accented restart of the introduction Delicate, lyrical passages received much warm response. Contrastingly, the mechanical accenting of ominously militaristic strut - complete through like-minded antiphonal response - got its full due. Healthy push for the quasi-recapitulatory statement in Marsch conventionally compensated for dense thicket to follow - until very close to effectively dissembling hammer stroke two-thirds through. Rattle, supported by determined playing, still pointed the most important accents through overheated struggle of it all.

Intimation of wide shudder across blood-stained lake - ahead in Wozzeck – was stirring, but grandiosely enunciated trombone obbligato - oblique reference back to the Schoenberg - sounded curiously detached from hazardous transition to immediately prepare it. Incisive hammer stroke cut off well executed final stretto, to sum up broad, sweep through pre-war character pieces from path-breaking triumvirate of Vienna.

Indecisive earlier sounded the Act One Prelude to Wagner’s Parsifal. Good estimation of diaphanous sound world Wagner envisioned, dryly achieved, still spoke forth. Mention got made over BBC of ‘orchestra without feet’ that Debussy might have sought as an ideal. With hall acoustic also likely to blame, some drawing upon overtones to support how this music should float felt minimized. Key motifs exchanged between instruments, sections carried merely adequate profile toward building any unifying concept - toward making clear any connecting line through this.
Simon Rattle made sense of translucent textures accompanying Strauss’s Four Last Songs while leaving some of the animation, agitation to fill things out, make for better contrast than for all to merely get smoothed out. Unusually convincing was his very slow tempo for the final “Im Abendrot.” Warmly supportive of Karita Mattila, all opened out once she started singing. The voice, with occasional dead spot, slight hollowness now hardly at all stood in her way here. In reaching high notes, she sounded slightly careful at approaching handful of them, but most of them still freely opened out, pleasantly so. What made this song cycle a real experience was the intensity she invested in its text.

I think back once more to Evelyn Lear’s Marschallin – available to hear again on Philips - the voice a bit worn but how she allocated what remained to wisely, pensively make matter what really counts – the words. Mattila possesses more instrument than mid-70’s Lear – note the abandon with which she can still invest her lines – remindful of when vocally at her peak just several years ago. In an ideal world, one could see Mattila take on the Marschallin, let’s say opposite Christianne Stotijn as Octavian – then for the two to swap parts for two nights during the run Mattila could probably still handle doing so.

The words here selflessly became ultimate raison d’etre, through all very effectively sustained line, flow of air throughout. Most moving was a practically erotic yearning to it all, a reach for the refreshment that taking, inhaling in so much provides – yet with taint of mild self-reproach, and deeply calm a resignation to what mysterious inevitably lies ahead. Note the somewhat straight tone, but as beseechingly deep from within Mattila invested her closing lines to ‘Im Abendrot.’ Even, acknowledged already, in the more heavily taken first song, ‘Fruhling’, one could catch Mattila’s lightly floated ‘Vogelsang’ concluding one line, and then her impassioned reach for glittering’ high B through ‘Nun liegt der erschlossen,’ - none of this merely for effect.

Very poetic, in ‘September’, was Mattila’s limning of the stirring contrast, imaginatively anticipated, between a brightly colored ‘Sommer lachelt’ and heavily wistful ‘sterbenden Gartentraum’ at end of one stanza. Such tug of d yearning very poignantly, insinuated, confided so very much. We have all heard Four Last Songs in fresher voice, but seldom is it to experience these so lived, so personal as to take us places we think we dare not tread in happening upon so sacrosanct, valedictory a work. Rattle was with her every step of the way toward making all sublime.

BBC Proms 2010: Prom 58. Czech Philharmonic Orchestra, John Eliot Gardiner. Lars Vogt. Royal Albert Hall. 29.08.10

There are qualities John Eliot Gardiner contributes to twelve-year running relationship, friendship with the Czech Philharmonic, especially for repertoire on which he is most respected and, evident here, flickers of insight for much else. However, there is at least as much for him to learn from working with an orchestra with so long a fruitful tradition as this one. His reminiscence of the late Charles Mackerras - fine protege of Vaclav Talich - helping Gardiner to ‘driving lesson’ through several Janacek operas was moving - picked up right before airing of brief tone poem Ballad of Blanik. Its very charming simplicity, lack of pretense got represented very well here - with wistful waltz-like step anticipating well the rotating sway that opened middle movement of the Martinu on this program. Gardiner picked up well upon this piece’s doleful, lightly wistful accents to hint at both Kat’a Kabanova and Vixen.

This marked first chance in numerous years to hear the Czech Philharmonic at the Proms – orchestra having worked under eclectic line-up of musical leadership since the retirement of Vaclav Neumann and fall of the Iron Curtain. Carnival Overture of Dvorak brilliantly opened the program. Much orchestral filigree - downside of tradition, according to Mahler, slovenliness - was well pointed here, but eventually seemed to get itself detached from the soil in which it was planted. There is nothing worse, for instance in American culture, than faking in overworked, plastic a manner any indigenous culture - whether in shopping districts or at theme parks – entire absence of genuine feel for being in the real locale oppressive. Gardiner's approach to Dvorak did not glaringly remind of such experience, but it intermittently did come to mind.

Czech PO strings sounded thin, coming off high B, winding down to warmly played wistful episode. Coming off such genuine affection was much expected quickly gathering steam toward recapturing the vitality of Carnival’s opening – with still much overt fuss over detail. The nocturnal middle section – limned by fine concertmaster solo - had warmth, albeit held back by self-conscious adherence to tempo. G Minor opening to the Development section sounded fractious, tempo unyielding – enough to significantly inhibit the character of the writing. All got projected, but without harmonic shifts being able to fully speak. Such eventually joyous buildup of agitation - so pointed by high piccolo trills should there be any doubt – was just that. Joy expressed here though became brash instead – from pushed engagement of energetic reprise of overture’s opening through unidiomatic punched accenting to close it.

So spoke then elusively the Martinu Sixth Symphony, 'Fantasies Symphoniques.', in its unconventional layout of three tone pictures. These pictures abstractly reflect mental states, visions, seizing upon what lay deep inside the composer in writing this music - in place of anything concrete. Given sloppy intonation on Dvorak, Gardiner’s fastidious care over intonation here came unexpected. Martinu’s genius just partly reveals itself in building a veritable kaleidoscope out of mere handful of musical motifs; the very ephemeral quality of thematic material based upon such is striking. For composer rooted in neo-classicism, Gardiner thereby offered a fresh perspective - that is of deceptively halfway making this music appear classical. This however is late-period Martinu – like daunting Fourth Piano Concerto Belohlavek so effectively conducted at the 2007 Proms.

Gardiner clarified well the modernism of this piece. Such perhaps may have blind-sided him toward not quite fully being able to get at the indigenous core of this composition and harmonic underpinnings coursing through such toward helping define its shape. A particular dryness blocking inculcation into this music of a grasp of where overtones are, for sake of clarity, purity, essentially kept John Eliot Gardiner from finding friendliest turf here. Immediately the self-conscious scrupulizing to spin-out of also later recurring episode in quasi-microtonal language to first preface the opening movement was misguided. Out of so much inchoate is the germ or seed from which diatonic spelling develops full expression later on. Capture harmonically of a B natural, dissonant under slowly undulating broken D Minor triad on flute was shallow, making then transition to first episode of the first 'fantasy' insufficiently disruptive - its introductory sharply dotted motif marking the music being jerked back to central tonality of B-Flat jarring - with then descant in thirds ascending, swiveling about by semitones.

Strong pointing of less broken dotted rhythms then replaced their forerunners developing a dance-like pulsation, thus making overstated a 'second-theme' diatonic spelled confident refrain. It was evident here the earnest quest for attempting to delve out classical proportions to music that in its mindset leaves such vague. Motion according to parallel tritone through some of the second episode, of structural importance here, got understated, making fugato therein and repeated note chatter to introduce the third episode excessively busy in quality, whereas it is in such harmony that is the foundation to support and then even offset at once all activity in motion about. Least dignified was the string section almost literally screaming repeated pitches above sonorities neither so thick nor loud it should have been necessary; such lapse fortunately though hardly ever occurred again. After slightly stiff support for lingering concertmaster solo in alt, Gardiner effectively then brought the first movement to a restful close.

Gardiner minded separating out different overlapping strands of activity to begin the quasi-scherzo middle movement. Implied harmonic underpinning to duet of arpeggios in clarinets a semitone apart was weak, coming off much busy marking of figuration. In contrast with Ancerl when refrain within overriding line to all this was reached, Gardiner worked its obbligato in second violins, making fractious what can be shaped in more supple manner; lower brass under too emphatically played arpeggio tremoli in the strings likewise felt cheated here. Stark, abrupt contrasts to get the middle section underway could have stood out more, but from there on out, through the lighter, mysteriously interjected textures of the strange middle section of this 'scherzo', Gardiner caught more flexibly the natural rhythms, life of this music. Gardiner then managed to effortlessly make ample room for momentarily militaristic growing accents in the brass.

Gardiner then made overt contrasting strands of anguished rhetoric to eloquently begin the third fantasy. Arioso in violins threading into a sway of curve-like motion through violin, wind sextuplets had fine profile, but also evinced tentative mastery of rubato. Color for harmonic shifts subtly taking place underneath through first episode last spelling of the wave-like chromatic motif unifying the entire piece was undercut by limited space for line through this to issue forth. Very impressive was the engagement of much polytonal swirling about in agitato second episode to follow - pastoral third episode then evocatively providing brief respite.

The quasi-militaristic character of the notably agitated penultimate episode got overtly thrust forth - alternate valid option being the appraisal of such menace as hardly more than just passing or ephemeral. Even here is sense of reality on the ground as hardly substantially more than what will veritably inhabit dreams, visions - to compare with what reality exists for the hereafter. So much activity happens in such small space, that this music in all its mixing things up of tonality and bright color can appear crowded, hectic; it is then perhaps best within well planted indigenous roots this music, its rhetoric can emerge with ample space and clarity. Bohuslav Martinu sought how he could complete finding stronger individual language, persona and simultaneously have such validly reflect and make use of what current advances he could inculcate.

Matthew Crump lightly mentioned in his invaluable survey of Martinu symphonies the Webern inspired integral serialism of Boulez and Stockhausen, having been cutting edge during the 1950’s. Martinu successfully completed finding his own place and relevance for what should long survive him - reckoning too the beautiful simplicity his Memorial to Lidice so simply achieved. Credit is still due a spirited John Eliot Gardiner in succeeding here well at arousing new interest in this music.

The notably non-Czech Grieg Piano Concerto, played by Lars Vogt, got off with mildly uncertain calibration between soloist and forces right behind him – until Vogt’s gracious shaping of lyrical statement of the first theme. Dotted scherzo rhythms to interact between orchestra and soloist was spirited here, if not quite matching between both. Shaping, lovely ardor for second theme, with fine rubato in bassoon obbligato, emerged in full; fantasia like opening to the Development section between Vogt and Czech wind principals likewise became poetic. Past some fussiness orchestrally right before and after, things gradually took on being much more of one piece, yet with Vogt sounding self-conscious during even the challenging first movement cadenza in attempting to somewhat emulate frequently affected pointing in the orchestral playing.

Vogt’s display of technique was encouraging toward all going better thenceforth. Fine rhapsodic shape and feeling was made of the evocative Adagio, albeit with sharp pointing here and there self-conscious from Vogt yet again, as along with riskily pushed opening to the Recapitulation, perhaps guessing at what Gardiner would most likely be seeking. Abetted by very fine principal horn, both Vogt and Gardiner took in very well, evocatively the vista over broad landscape with which the Adagio closes.

The Czech Philharmonic’s flautist sang the rondo’s second theme with such openness for it to be entirely idiomatic to do so – as could have been learned from playing so much charming folk melody in Dvorak. The Mendelssohnian filigree with which Vogt invested his part contrasted well with vigorously, confidently articulated stomping dance that started all off. Vogt provided Chopinesque esprit for bouncing triplet variation on first theme in the coda with fine élan; triumphant reprise of the romantic second theme came off with alternatively brilliant and propulsive flourish, making for exciting conclusion to the Grieg – upon which Vogt followed up with poetically limned, half-lit account of Chopin’s posthumous C-Sharp Minor Nocturne.

Gardiner replicated what virtues and lapses characterized his way with Carnival Overture for Dvorak’s sunny Eighth Symphony. Missed for instance was the natural shape of the waltz inhabiting the third movement – quite common already a lapse outside of ‘period.’ Cellos, backed by warm horns, sang in soulful G Minor their preface to the first movement. As marked some of George Szell’s Dvorak – at least before his late-career EMI redo of the Eighth – the bustle through ritornelli and ambling, cross-accenting bridge theme received more push and shove from Gardiner than was good for him to add to the mix. Reprise in winds of cello second half to first theme, in F-sharp major during the Development, limned by light playing in the strings, was charming; much else otherwise got again too pushed for charm to sufficiently accompany, provide good intonation to infuse vitality of the playing here.

Lower strings fulsomely, prudently achieved solemn opening of the second movement - Gardiner humbly stepping aside for flutes and clarinet on their back and forth calling first theme to naturally emerge. Excessive marking made shallow rhetoric out of loud reprise of the Intro, but with Gardiner making spacious his framing of the light second theme to follow, until so garish, bright a tutti to followi its natural ambling forth. After sober leaning off this episode and preparation of following storm episode, much fuss was made out of the tempest, followed by slightly nervous rushing ahead of the second theme - all framed nicely until overuse of rhetoric for grandiose coda to deftly be dovetailed off, yet without recovering intonation lost right before.

Violins shaped their third movement waltz theme better upon lighter reprise, after stiffly negotiating the trio. Good bounce under violins from winds for coda sufficed, until excessive fuss over so much else. Cellos, after fine trumpet fanfare, handsomely shaped with rubato main theme for the finale. Principal flute, unchallenged technically, got rushed through his elaborate variation. Dry negotiation of chords to accompany dance in C Minor sounded rough-edged idiomatic here until incipiently hard-driven quality to everything again prevailed. Natural shaping of following lyrical variations spoke well; all waited to fully settle in again for haunting variation on clarinet, with string tremoli aloft - followed soon by much brashness bringing this prom - first Slavonic Dance, Opus 46 encore included – to a vigorous close.