Sergei Prokofiev The Love of Three Oranges – Suite
Erkki-Sven Tüür Violin Concerto • Aditus
Dmitri Shostakovitch Symphony No. 9 in E flat Op. 70
Paavo Järvi’s former spell as Principal Guest Conductor of
the City Of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra was obviously not lost on
this audience for, although modest in numbers, there was clearly a very
audible enthusiasm for both Järvi himself and the music. And rightly
so, for from the opening bars of the Prokofiev it was clear that the
dapper young Estonian conductor (not for the first time I was reminded
of his striking facial resemblance to his father Neeme) was stamping
his authority on the music in a very positive manner, conducting with
determination, admirable technical clarity and a confidence that at
once communicated itself with both players and audience. Järvi
obviously knew what he wanted to achieve from this music and it made
for a rewarding concert experience.
In the Prokofiev this meant a performance of appropriate
swagger, at times arrogance but above all stylistic character. If the
opening of Les Ridicules (strange that the programme notes failed
to give listeners the titles of the movements) just lacked a little
rhythmic drive in the opening bars it more than made up for it in the
delightfully playful flute dominated scherzando section shortly before
the conclusion, the final bars showing fine bombast. The Scène
Infernal was packed with mystery and magic, magnificent strings
here, and the famous March benefited from finely chosen tempos
that allowed the music’s pomposity to come through admirably. For my
taste I found the Scherzo just slightly heavy handed but once
again the strings shone through in the evocative opening of Le Prince
et la Princess with beautifully sensitive and atmospheric playing.
The furiously headlong pace of La Fuite managed to maintain fine
instrumental clarity whilst not skimping on excitement.
This was the UK premiere of Tüür’s Violin Concerto,
written in 1999 for Isabelle van Keulen (left), and it was a
delight that the composer had made the journey to Birmingham for the
performance despite what must have been his searing disappointment at
missing the Eurovision Song Contest in his home city of Tallinn on the
previous Saturday. This was my first experience of Isabelle van Keulen
live and the physical commitment of her performance here was, at times,
both fascinating and for her I am sure, very tiring. Cast in three movements
played continuously, the work is largely about tension, both in terms
of the relationship between the soloist and orchestra, but also in the
constant effort to handle the relentless struggle between atonality
and tonality, serialism and modality. The result is kaleidoscopic in
the extreme; music capable of generating an extraordinary sense of cumulative
energy and which in the case of the long first movement in particular,
rarely pauses for breath. The rapidly bowed arpeggios with which the
soloist opens (a hint of John Adams here perhaps) set the incessant
scene and return elsewhere in the work as a landmark from time to time.
Melodies and figures frequently fly between soloist and orchestra, the
result never short of exhilarating. In complete contrast the sudden
arrival of the slow movement freezes the music in its steps, a long
series of slow glissando and drone effects emanating from the strings
before the soloist initiates a more lyrical aspect. The final breathless
movement has a folk like feel about it, albeit again with quasi-minimalist
undertones. I can only say that Isabelle van Keulen excelled herself
and it was good to hear the deserved appreciation shown by the audience
for the performance and also the appearance of the composer. In the
circumstances, Tüür’s Aditus, with which the
second half began, seemed like an encore piece although it is actually
intended as a pyrotechnical concert opener, as the Latin title implies.
Occasional thoughts of Lutoslawski and perhaps Magnus Lindberg here
in a stunningly brilliant, highly virtuosic showpiece constructed around
the chromatic scale. Imaginatively written with a fine ear for unusual
orchestral sonority, the orchestra very clearly enjoyed themselves here
despite the technical challenges of the music, not least in the hard
worked percussion section who employed as large a selection of instruments
as I have seen for some while!
Any other Shostakovitch symphony, with the possible
exception of the first, would have felt oddly out of place after the
Tüür, but the tongue in cheek spirits of No. 9 were, on this
occasion, the perfect palette cleanser after the sheer physicality of
the Estonian work before it. In fact it did take the orchestra a few
minutes to settle into it, the first movement not short of fine playing
but not quite inside the music, whereas the ensuing Moderato
was far more characterful and marked by beautifully articulated clarinets
at the outset and strings of perfect weight and poise. The Presto
(magnificent trumpet solo here!) had a far greater sense of drive
than the opening Allegro and the "wall of sound" from
the brass in the Largo come across with admirable power. Järvi
relished every moment of the final Allegretto, orchestra and
conductor wrapping up the evening with a real flourish. It is to be
hoped that Paarvo Järvi will continue to be a regular visitor to
Birmingham, a point to which the reaction of the audience would seem
to lend unanimous support.
Christopher Thomas
Tuur
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