Met in HD: New Boris Godunov still inspiring as mostly all of one piece - after change of horses midstream. Rene Pape, Valery Gergiev. 23.10.10

Definitely a stand-out on the list of upcoming new productions for the 2010-11 season at the Met, even before it opened, was the new Peter Stein production of Boris Godunov, the first new production of this for the company in quite some time – after long lasting satisfaction with August Everding’s production.

News then arrived of Peter Stein having had to step aside for what at first were called personal reasons – then for it to get disclosed that all due to much red tape he was having to pull with the U.S. Consular Office in Berlin to get his visa status renewed. The sets for the new production were already in place at the Met, and rehearsal was on verge of pretty much getting underway. Stein appealed to Peter Gelb for support toward making things work out, make the transaction a little smoother for him, but Gelb made excuses not to intervene; it also seems that Gelb wasted no time finding Stephen Wadsworth to take on unenviable task of replacing Stein. No acknowledgement was made of Stein whatsoever during interviews or announcement during the Live in HD presentation. Stein also got heard referring to the Met as ‘a factory’, perhaps out of frustration of having had to deal with Gelb, plus whatever else.

Stein got his start in theater as proponent of regietheater, before as he saw it the re-creative process started going over the top, becoming abusive. His theater for some time now has become of a painstakingly literal-minded variety, usually against fairly minimalist backdrop, with emphasis on close, psychologically worked out, intense interaction between actors on stage. I speculate here, but one must indeed doubt that directing ‘by committee’ was ever going to be Stein’s cup of tea or immediately willing adjustment with Peter Gelb or with the Met. One should remark however at how, if in a way only scratching so far beneath the surface, Wadsworth may have emulated what Stein had in mind, given how involved some of the interaction on stage is in this new production. The ‘Polish Act’ here, for instance, made for absolutely riveting theater.

Over at City Opera one can still hear the words Stephen Wadsworth wrote for Bernstein’s (semi-)autobiographical ‘A Quiet Place’ - again long-windedly inculcating ‘Trouble in Tahiti’ as part of the package – similar to as happened at 1983 Houston world premiere – Wadsworth also then directing it. According to press, Wadsworth’s libretto apparently has not worn the ravages of time well. Martin Bernheimer refers to the lyrics as corny – not to mention his evaluation of the musical setting.

Wadsworth went about ‘Boris Godunov’, conscientiously, so much on quite short notice, this being a tough piece to stage – on unit set Stein and Ferdinand Woegerhauer had already constructed. The Met is mostly right – based on hypothesis of compromise being impossible to reach with Peter Stein – in trusting Wadsworth’s ability to put this together. He deserves credit as well, as interviewed by board room driven Patricia Racette during intermission for looking, sounding mildly ill at ease with temptation to claim work on this as all his own. Several finicky touches let the cat slightly out of the bag that same man who crafted the lyrics for ‘A Quiet Place’ could have staged this. Fortunately, only several things conspicuously misfired.

The handling of the part of the Simpleton was one to find worrisome; fortunately he ceased to be a factor past the Coronation Scene, but especially up to moment that scene arrived, all the roaming and silent gesticulating about was distracting. Halfway denied was ability of the Simpleton to at first inconspicuously emerge from the crowd in front of St Basil’s Cathedral. In the standard (and lengthy) David Lloyd-Jones conflation of the opera Valery Gergiev follows, the Simpleton gets to sing twice the same solo – moreover taking into consideration, unless there were motorized ox-carts at the time (1605) that there is only several days lapse between action in front of St Basil’s and off the Dniepr river (Kromy Forest) - 600 miles apart. Costuming here reasonably well, across the minimalist set, reflected the period and varying classes of people.

As manipulative, conniving, pampered as Marina Mnishek is, it takes some suspension of disbelief to find her - turned into a hussy as well - out on war-path with Grigori across the Ukraine –- whereas she could instead rest comfortably at Sandomir Castle until Grigori’s ascension to the throne is nearly a done deal. Huddling close to stage floor of Boris together with his children in his final scene looked derived from Andrei Tarkovsky’s production Gergiev conducted years ago - long available on videotape and dvd (starring Robert Lloyd as Boris). Except for the Simpleton at the end of the St Basil’s scene wrapping himself in the map of Russia – bringing Tarkovsky motif even a step further - an overall map fetish – maps often being opened, spread out across the stage floor – distracted little from focus on the overall dramatic narrative.

The persistence of a unit set for the Kromy Forest scene had curious effect, both that contributed in an odd way almost as much as it took away one’s usual traditional sense of perspective. One knew the strategy here to be at least partly effective, for the irony with which the music for the Pretender’s entrance got felt, as sounding bright on the surface – but with so much dark underneath. It was to play the auteur just within reason to watch the Kromy Forest scene take place in such closed-in space, with what blood-letting, pummeling about going on – except for those who are able in a dark theater or literally by memory to follow the libretto very closely – with who might have been doing what to whom. It became arbitrary in effect the takeover of so much carnage and disorder as rightly characterizes this scene – even if taking it on in this unusual way from more of a global perspective than usual. That this was effective was testament to Stephan Wadsworth’s very close and intense work with all involved.

One thing very fine about this ‘Boris Godunov’ was the strength of its casting – some real depth here. This was apparent immediately in the first scene of the opera - the brutality, arbitrary control of the people by the police, firmly commanded by Valerian Ruminski. Clear line, forthrightly resounded, made strong profile of Shchelkalov, in the hands of Alexei Markov (Tomsky at Met later this season) – if less beseechingly than from others. Mikhail Petrenko, in flowing white hair, with both a slightly fanatical and imploring look as Pimen, found likewise the right introspection for the part, subtly varied interest in the text. In the shallow acoustic at the Met, he sounded shallower in vocal depth than I recall hearing him before. There was still here a Pimen fully engaged.

The Pretender’s sidekicks toward making it across into Lithuania fell into the hands of two veterans at them – their droll humor at full throttle, but perhaps with sense of menace associated with their reappearance in the Kromy Forest understated. While Nikolai Gassiev still proved good at acting Missail, vocally he resorted to mugging it – as though now over-parted for it – in exchange much experience at it still showing nevertheless. Vladimir Ognovenko, as Varlaam, reminded well how extremely well he sang this for the Met thirteen years ago, during Gergiev’s first Boris run at the Met – paired then with Gassiev again – with how very deep a lament he made then of Varlaam falling asleep drunk right after ‘Siege of Kazan.’ Luxury casting was made of police officer at the Inn, with befuddled acting, interestingly light voiced Gennady Bezzubenkov, not to overshadow lean voiced, still fully capable casting elsewhere.

Andrei Popov proved ideal vocally for the Simpleton, but slithering around between several pitches began to cloy – that after thanklessly having been seen too much during earlier scenes of the opera with as directed, acting to possibly remind one of the silent movie era. Underneath it all, he still looked, sounded fine. Jennifer Zetlan as the sweetly very plaintive Xenia and alto voiced Jonathan Makepeace(Fyodor), both exemplary in their acting, made ideal casting; childrens’ chorus, mocking the Simpleton, was ideally together, sharply characterful, and in tune (as prepared by Anthony Piccolo). Choral work, though tremulous for several passages of exposed writing during first half of the opera, was very well disciplined, the Met chorus altogether sounding as though possessed for entirety of the opera’s final act.

Aleksandr Antonenko was the ringing, exciting Pretender, with accent, turn of phrase all making one at last anticipate him to be a reigning Otello for our day – whereas he sounded still a little green for it at Salzburg two years back (preserved on dvd). Antonenko here proved the equal to the often thankless high tessitura of Grigori – and with alternatively the right look of fire in his eye and hint of naïve confusion with how he may be being manipulated at Sandomir castle. He is less verbally intense with words to this part than Galuzin at both the Mariinsky and the Met - Galuzin still in his prime – in the late 1990’s. With closer attention to this, Antonenko should be able to deliver all the goods this way – and more specific acting as well.

Ekaterina Semenchuk, with firm if not most richly colored mezzo, made somewhat a capricious ingénue out of Marinaa. For dynamic of how things transpired on stage here, she rose to the occasion to sound and appear lightly, shrewdly conniving at it all the while, then gave in easily to the passionate outburst of joining Antonenko for closing duet during the Fountain scene. Unifying the whole effort dramatically was the absolutely excellent Rangoni of Evgeny Nikitin, singer deserving of more exposure in the West than he receives. If voice is slightly less rich than it was on disc with Gergiev thirteen years ago, here was singing to remind one of Sergei Leiferkus on one of his best nights at the same part – Nikitin at least just as vocally splendid as Leiferkus and more subtly riveting, conniving than before. With together the intense, subtle acting of Nikitin guiding it all, very ringing tone of Antonenko and sufficient allure of Semenchuk, the Polish act was hardly intermezzo anymore, but truly riveting theater instead.

Rene Pape, relatively new to singing Boris, made increasingly affecting case for doing so, as afternoon wore on. His is a very warm voice for this, with free close to baritonal extension on top; he provided to boot if not sufficiently specific acting, especially at first, as Boris, increasingly intelligent acting all the same. One might conventionally expect a more gravelly timbre for Boris– with voice warm to almost extent of sounding plummy. The transition between being doting father to Xenia and Fyodor, and his gradual dissembling passively to the very matter-of-fact Shiusky of Oleg Balashov gradually became convincing. In a way, the Shuisky being so deadpan is a more interesting option than the oily, slithery type (intelligently represented by Konstantin Pluzhnikov on the Mariinsky recording) - in a way, all the more dangerous a Shiusky for being that much more easier to believe, thus for Boris to be so gulled.

The deep anxiety already that Pape expressed for ‘I have attained the highest power’ he made subtly contrast well with the lyricism with which he mused over the welfare of the children, his benevolent care and hope for them. He filled out best of all the scene of Boris’s farewell and death, to show what further promise in still better filling out the sides of this part he may fulfill before long in singing this. Balance between maintaining nobility of profile and of vocal line and nearly completely essaying the psychosis Boris suffers was insightful here. One may even look forward, to his repeat of the part this coming March - with much of this same cast – as to what further progress, even if incremental, may occur between now and months ahead.

Working with a production that intermittently resembled the apple-not-to-fall-too-far-from-the-tree variety – in context of utterly bland, widely panned opener to notoriously expensive Ring two weeks previous – might have led one to reckon one was going to get a musically streamlined account of things to complement such. One picked up instead the best rehearsed playing of the Met orchestra I have heard in over a year. Peter Gelb and the company both took the hit they deserved for cutting corners too often on such considerations last season. Boris Godunov, so different in idiom from other repertoire, is especially notable in being so distinctive.

Without being the Mariinsky, fear of comparison here was hardly necessary. The originality of Mussorgsky’s scoring was – in part for better sound than on Gergiev’s Philips recording – fully on display. The quietly brooding command Gergiev revealed while conducting this was very affecting, offering much subtlety, nuance, excellent pacing, and attentiveness to practically every turn in the dramatic action onstage. No less important than the rest was the variety of color achieved, as marked by anywhere from subtly pointed to, for instance for Kromy Forest scene, rhythmically bracing. Bright color for the Polish Act was clear, as was contrasting with it, impoverished, despairing throng in front of St Basil’s. All here worked toward as much a dramatic success with this Boris as a musical one. One can only speculate at what results could have been – certainly with more extensive rehearsal time demanded – had Peter Stein been able to remain on board.

DSO Berlin (06.12.2009) - Return of Tugan Sokhiev for scintillating Tchaikovsky 5. Johannes Moser, cello (Dvorak).

December return by Tugan Sokhiev to DSO Berlin tells altogether a different story than did previous visit – all Russian program – of Sokhiev’s work with this orchestra.

This was the fourth DSO broadcast within seven months of a cello concerto, as conducted by second to third tier men – Hanno Lintu, Hans Graf, and as previously, Sokhiev. Lintu and Sokhiev, Isserlis and Mork divided the two Shostakovich between themselves respectively - Mork one of two most successful out of four. The other, as just conducted by Sokhiev, is Johannes Moser. DSO principal Grunkorn on the Barber turned out fine as well, but especially compromised by having had to make concessions to a weak podium.

Before the Dvorak, we had Alexander Borodin’s ‘In the Steppes of Central Asia’ - first time I recall seeing this fine morsel programmed in quite some time. In its exotic charm, simplicity, it seldom makes itself unwelcome. It also has its subtleties to trip up anyone unsuspecting as to excessively understate the case for it - or try to make too much of one. Sokhiev, depending in part on very fine wind principals of DSO Berlin, achieved fine, expressive results. In shaping soulful English horn solo, when handed over to the strings, Sokhiev’s affection for this piece was clear. What may strengthen his next go at it is to anticipate downbeats less, rely less on doing so to be expressive. His ear for balances was still good here, plus his feel for atmosphere, apart from slightly heavy underlining and occasional soggy attacks from the brass.

Equally atmospheric was the brooding opening to the Dvorak concerto on clarinets. Some bearing down on the horns, making way into first orchestral tutti did not necessarily augur well for the rest of this, but fortunately only proved momentary lapse. Getting absolute clarity with downbeats still proves an issue with Sokhiev; the good news is that it may not be crippling his efforts so much anymore, it seems, for instance accompanied less by so much bearing down - as true several seasons ago. His considerable slowing down for second theme in the horn could have stalled matters, but both the artistry of DSO Berlin principal horn and of Sokhiev encouraging warm understatement of the case made doing so fine. He then provided fine lift for polka step raptly anticipating solo entrance.

Johannes Moser made controlled entrance of notable dignity, warmth, reserve, nobility, unfazed by double-stops and other technical challenges in the part that encumber many second-tier down cellists right away, attempting this. Pointing of woodwind concertato underneath was crisp, attentive – without any stiffness as found for similar writing in the Barber last week. Second theme sounded forth equally as genuine as from horn player in the orchestral exposition - then spinning forth into sextuplets with flute obbligato with fine aplomb. And then for sake of making slightly heavy rhetoric out of gestures on part of about all, closing section before ritornello and Development, for just about minute taken came across episodic.

Sokhiev recovered poise just about two lines into ritornello; starting with rapt, broadly paced musing that Moser gets to re-enter with, all proceeded through the Development with fine simplicity. Sokhiev made crackling transition, led by trumpet, then flutes and Moser together, into ending well the first movement.

Only momentarily self-conscious accenting, and disallowing violins enough foreground over brass (not playing too loudly) for opening of its middle section hampered a lovely, atmospheric handling of the second movement. Moser’s gently broad, arched, singing line, and Sokhiev’s sensitive accompaniment all related matters well, alongside fine concertato of DSO winds. All sentiment was unabashed, but very seldom ‘worked.’ Feeling of heartbreak at end, as the music on its own spells out nobly in sublime manner, came across entirely genuine.

The finale, with its internal contrasts between, within sections came off best. Wei Lu, in descant to Moser during long, extended final section to this rondo finale sounded curiously slightly placed back, but played his part fluently, expressively well. Crisper downbeat to dance accents near the start of this, from Sokhiev, might have been better though. Without being to the Bohemian folk manner born, he perhaps can still come closer to definitive in conducting this music with crisper accent for the more animated tutti frequently occurring in Dvorak. One could hear most of the impetus for this already present. Vigorous stringendo with which he invested starting the finale made the case.

Spiccato, fluent work on fingerboard, confidence to make animated flourish out of much of this, together with sensitive interaction with wind principals of DSO Berlin and Wei Lu made complete what Moser brought to this. It was still moreover confidently the very noble sentiment and line and rich tone one will most likely recall of Moser's playing the Dvorak. Cheers and mostly well achieved encore of Bach’s first sarabande (G Major) for unaccompanied cello were both richly deserved A dove-tailing of two lines in first half of the Bach was self-conscious; once past halfway, Moser made introspectively enraptured supple, focused, noble line out of all the rest. May we hear much more of Moser and thus pick up how Moser will most likely be able to take his playing from here.

If it was not for what risk-taking occurred during Sokhiev’s interpretation of the Tchaikovsky Fifth Symphony, mostly delivered well, I might have quickly deduced that what he brought here to Berlin was hardly more than case of ‘specialty of the house.’ Witness however the steeply arched, bombastic affect that Gergiev endowed this piece on a much hyped Vienna Philharmonic release of the same some years back. Little of this seems to have rubbed off on his student here; it also hardly sounds as though I write of same person conducting this as I did on Russian repertoire before.

A fine imaginative, attentive sense of narrative coursed throughout so very familiar terrain. When there might arrive mild understatement of at times overly emphatic internal tempo instructions on the composer’s part, it was always with long view of the whole picture in mind - deftly stated as such. No definitive interpretation of this piece surfaces yet, but Sokhiev here is still only thirty-three. Aim of being headed at least somewhat in the right direction certainly seems unmistakable.

A few miscalculations, mistakes occasionally belied someone experienced being on the podium, but the youthful spirit with which he engaged this music, for instance the fine swagger he gave the opening of the finale and coda restatement spoke very highly of how he had prepared us so well earlier for what would transpire. Lithe feel for the third movement, with open rustle of fresh breeze throughout its trio section and beautifully, subtly calibrated figuration from there into return of main section all sounded very fresh..

It was clear from the first few minutes of this Tchaikovsky Fifth – I can happily report - we were not embarking on approach to something of fate-obsessed, metaphysical aspirations, such as one will pick up in one way from Bernstein (DGG) and more achieved on surface, brilliantly, 1970’s Karajan - or as odd hybrid between - Eschenbach (Ondine). If so, as from someone with Sokhiev’s limited experience, there would be a much different review to read. Sokhiev gave us a Tchaikovsky Fifth in what impact it might have had, intimating cross between 1960’s Karajan and Mravinsky, without achieving as confident security of the former or interpretative depth capable of the latter

Sokhiev’s simple doleful handling of first movement introduction, with his extending out of (dotted) half notes in fate motto for clarinets, with it barely perceptible his doing so immediately revealed sense of aspiration for some aesthetic finesse with this music. No less was it so with the long breathed wistful sigh he made out of opening of both exposition and recapitulation from both strings with lithe accompanying winds, and then dourly introspective bassoon respectively. It is only perhaps on the surface that what resembled a miscalculation was a marked early slow down for final chain of restatements of opening subject as such to close the first movement. Transitions otherwise were effortlessly achieved. Youthful impetuosity with a few moments, such as bridge transitions each time to second theme unexaggeratedly emerged fresh.

Beautiful too was the weighted introduction to the Andante - that Sokhiev made emphatically slow (but pulsated with intent of keeping the line alive). This then remained an Andante - as something to have organically emerged out of how the first movement ends. If one sought bombastic rhetoric at key nodal points here, one looked in vain. More primary on Sokhiev’s mind was how to always sustain a continual sense of narrative throughout this, even past fleeting doubt of his handling of one or two transitions therein. A slight phrasing from behind of clarinet seemed overt, starting middle section to all this; such concern also only proved fleeting. Lines for solo horn were long-breathed, but with Sokhiev requesting a Slavic inspired affectation of Gallic formed embouchure in playing horn for sake of desirable color, regardless what risk.

A certainly rapid-fire approach to much of the finale brilliantly closed the concert, but while similar in pace to Mravinsky or Gergiev, eschewing excessive bombast of the latter. Heavily accented start to the Exposition for amassed strings alone came across portentous. The shove into rapid brass re-statement in C Major of ‘fate’ was risky, for how transition into the Development realistically should work. Without any derailing or threat of such, all proceeded organically from what had opened up here.

The opening of the finale, eschewing grandiosity, certainly something just to stand on its own as so much rhetoric Sokhiev revealed being interpretively mature to realize, lest one prefer much empty hectoring instead. Sokhiev instead proceeded with fine swagger, such as with stepping out for a brisk walk on morning of bright sunlight over remaining frost on the ground. Sokhiev in the coda subtly pointed out dark chromatic progression in undergirding brass to violins’ unison ‘fate’ motif in E Major to bring us full circle from whence things started.. Brilliant, closing flourish to all this came across most refreshing.

My only trepidation about writing in as such is that of too much a push this still fledgling career receives today. This is first time apparent to me there is indeed a real gift here not only for orchestral, but more so for operatic work. The repertoire is vast, challenges, temptations great, such as have already tripped up greater men than, at thirty-three, Sokhiev. He stepped in for Mehta in Seoul for Haydn 104 and Brahms 4 (for his VPO debut?) last fall. There are subtleties with Brahms 4 that must still confound eager youth - youth nothing to disparage. More than immediate success, one can best wish Mr. Sokhiev much prudence in planning what may result in rewarding career ahead for him.

DSO Berlin/Tugan Sokhiev - misguided replay of 2007 broadcast

This broadcast of DSO Berlin should come as warning to a good number of people in Berlin as to what can happen to a good orchestra if left to the wrong leadership. Should DSO Berlin be left something to be free-agent status among a coterie of young marginal talent with very powerful booking agents, we can expect results, as I report below - more often similar to how described here than not.

First piece on the program, by 1950 born Elena Firsova proved quite a find. Firsova rose quickly while in her twenties to prominence on the international new music festival scene after study, consultation with Edison Denisov and also with Austrian émigré composer and Anton Webern protege, Philip Herschkowitz. Firsova wrote Garden of Dreams as homage to Shostakovich. In its well regulated but entirely spontaneous atmospheric writing, redolent of nocturne movements in concerti, symphonies by Shostakovich, this twelve minute piece is really something quite substantial. Subtle psychological references, even quoting the previous composer’s DSCH motif come up. Brass writing at times had chordal structure – luminosity through such occasionally, mildly remindful of the music of Messiaen.

One this occasion however had to listen a little harder than perhaps should be so for this music’s virtues. Tugan Sokhiev, protégé of Valery Gergiev and from same province (Ossetia) got, uncharacteristic of DSO, muddy playing out of the strings, and overall, playing amorphous in line and formal grasp. Calibration of percussion ostinati, similar as to be found in late-period Shostakovich, was weak. In order in part to compensate for what was lacking, Sokhiev tended to underline things excessively; hardly convincingly would doing so ever amount to much.

The Cello Concerto No. 2, Opus 126, of Dmitri Shostakovich, followed. Truls Mork was soloist. Between Sokhiev and Mork, one sensed here unfortunately an apparent contentment to be able to reach a certain level with this music, but to not even attempt making it anywhere beyond that, with what demands this music makes. This performance thus shortchanged the alternatively wistful, elusive, metaphorical, menacing, and ironic character of this music. Interaction by contra-basses of DSO with Mork at the beginning sounded gauzy, vague of both pitch and shape. Mork, in excessively sinking into his opening lines, perhaps in order to better match Sokhiev, denied them the shape they could have.

Contrast between darker sonorities between for instance the opening and of D Major for berceuse second theme got cheated as well; no underlining was at all going to make the difference, including interlude for lower winds that went sour in intonation directly preceding the berceuse. Sokhiev, in embellishing, gilding the ‘toy-shop’ motif episode in the first movement, denied this passage its quintessential surreal, sinister character. Doing such happens, equally misguided, with the first movement of Symphony No. 15. Woodwind parts got covered up to the point of nearly being inaudible and when heard, crudely accented; the climax of the first movement became then overblown. Vague shaping and placement of voicing, color persisted to the end of the first movement, through lingering horn appoggiatura to close all off.

‘Buy my bagels’ was next, but metaphor between (a whore’s) street cry and minor ninth semaphores of living in a mechanized world got smothered out here. We got the usually expected stilted opening to this brief scherzo instead – clipped, bumped - in other words again, the usual. Humor in this very sardonic music got heavily underlined instead of the both subtle and brutal irony of it all Shostakovich’s rhythms abet – as one can so readily hear on a truly definitive recording of this by Frans Helmerson and Valery Polyansky (on Chandos).


In order to keep what vague rhythm persisted in Sokhiev’s concept of this piece secure, he began breaking up and compartmentalizing this music into little sections and then to kletzmar things up even more dragged the beat behind Mork for reprise of the opening tune. Helmerson, pacing things right, makes very convincingly a desperate cry out of all of this. No simplicity, that one had to listen hard for is ever lost on the Chandos disc.

Fanfare/cadenza opening of the third movement was shapeless, mildly apoplectic from all involved. The six-eight of the opening undulating theme of the third movement, first moment of relaxation in six minutes, loosened close to point of being an Elvis nine-eight. March interludes that followed, though with Mork understating matters well, Sokhiev turned into self-caricature. Interaction between upper winds and Mork through much of what then transpired lacked sense of good pulsation underneath. Four note figure antiphony, out of which is built a toccata, instead became demarcated to the point of being silly, followed by Sokhiev making ‘Disney’ out of a more than interesting enough wind-percussion concertato Snare drum and Mork then joined each other in slapping at the music - further attempt at characterization. That led up to a dressing up well of the movement’s climax, thus rendering void all its menace.

Mork, uncharacteristic of his playing, became slithery in pitch in crucial passage before the end of the concerto. Nothing glaringly to least bit inconsistent with what had come before in this performance happened for the last five minutes of this, including Sokhiev’s odd regroupings at the end - i.e., all his scrupulizing with percussion et al.

Perhaps a specialty of the house for Sokhiev, Rachmaninov’s Symphonic Dances started unpromisingly, with the standard clipping of opening notes, rests, barking of the brass dominating the stretti that follow. Sokhiev showed what link Symphonic Dances might have with film music, making even one wonder perhaps if Sergei could have been – even if nobody was looking - a fan of early John Wayne. It is better, especially from double-basses, to leave this kind of suggestion not so easily perceptible.

Sokhiev did not ever sufficiently gain any real steadiness with this music, until into the slower middle section, in which the well played melancholy saxophone solo and violin section copying him gave his idea decent shape. Over-emphasis did become the order of the day right before re-transition to the A secton of the first movement, the re-transition following through with further over-emphasis in much jerky subdividing – making almost combat-Rachmaninoff out of the re-transition.

Molto marcato marking for reprise of the Intro to the movement was too clipped and rushed to be marcato. Sokhiev gilded to 'palm court' level a closing consolation from the violins and then beat time through interesting descanted sonorities of piano, bells, and harp.

Trumpets greeted flat the opening of the waltz second movement, followed by Sokhiev with concertmaster allowing the line proceeding from opening fanfares to sag. DSO’s English horn achieved sour, even almost watery tone for the opening waltz subject, which violins then proceeded to gently back phrase – things thus far not quite out of character yet. Things then clotted in achieving first major crest to the line. Sokhiev had his flutes, upper winds feel, that in order to keep animation or life going, they must heavily accent what they are playing in what started sounding quasi-apoplectic – also making the music break up into minutiae, little sections, much as happened earlier in this concert.

In seeking ever greater profundity for this valse morte, Sokhiev back-phrased each remaining two or three re-statements of its main theme a little more than its previous. For pointing on this and/or slower transitions, an ever heavier application of unsteady vibrato, to grotesquely so, took over here - making ability to achieve the right feeling for this passage way overdone. Intonation in winds in remainder of the waltz turned moldy, mildew-y before all got said and done.

From how things had gone so far, nothing unpredictable happened with the usually capricious finale and through what resulted in a highly clipped and brutal ending to Symphonic Dances. Sokhiev accomplished nothing except to show off what taste he has for incurable over-emphasis. The opening D octave starting the movement got struck so hard that all overtones to the pitch were lost. Much slithery and gauzy tone and intonation greeted more lyrical or subdued passages - clipping and heavy regroupings the main scherzo-like section(s) of the finale.

After hearing how DSO Berlin has been playing lately, it is on verge of slander to pull this broadcast out for replay – except for the value of the still relatively new Firsova piece. One should of course welcome Russian guests on the podium with DSO, such as Vassili Petrenko, Ilan Volkov, and Valery Polyansky. Comparing with Polyansky’s Russian State SO, DSO Berlin here achieved less of their own virtues than does RSSO on their disc of the Shostakovich cello concerti. RSSO aspires well for the intonation that DSO Berlin can get; DSO Berlin itself did far less so here.

Sokhiev does not altogether lack ideas; his having to tweak the music so much apart though comes across that he neither trusts the music to be better able to speak on its own nor also quite has the technique to handle real task at hand.