Adès, Beethoven, Brahms:  Alfred Brendel (piano); Philharmonia Orchestra/Christoph von Dohnányi. RFH, 28.6.2007 (CC)

 

In September 2004 these very forces met at the RFH, finding Brendel in autumnal mood in Beethoven's Third Concerto. A DVD from Lucerne (2005) found Brendel on absolutely top form, rising to the occasion with Abbado at the helm (see Dominy Clements' review on this site). Back in the RFH after his recent recital, it was time for him to stake his claim to the concerto repertoire here.

In keeping with much of his recent playing, dynamism was toned down to make for a performance of the utmost care and integrity. Brendel's articulation was very clean, almost Mozartian at times; his second subject was gorgeously voiced. Orchestra and piano reacated to each other as in chamber music. Tellingly, the orchestra only really became alive after Brendel started playing.The orchestral exposition, taken in four by the conductor, was rather nondescript (Brendel sat stock still throughout its duration).

The chamber music aspect reached its climax in the Largo, with gorgeously weighted chords from Brendel, who provided the sweetest accompaniment to the woodwind solos. True, I have heard more rapt accounts than this, but there is no denying the standard here. The finale brought one unpleasant surprise:  Dohnányi's decision to basically insert a full-stop before the lovely legato clarinet solo. It was disruptive, unnecessary point-making. Far better was the impish coda, courtesy of Brendel and his cheeky side. Standing ovations are rare after the first half of a concert, but that is nearly what happened here. The audience's response was rapturous, and rightly so. For this was by a long way the highlight of the concert.

The music of Thomas Adès has always seemed somewhat over-hyped to me. His publicists and supporters would have him lay claim to the crown of Britten, and there is no denying that his imagination is seemingly wthout bounds. And this is surely part of the problem. The orchestral work Asyla, a piece that has been performed around the world, is over-laden with ideas. The rather archtypical, by now somewat clichéd percussion-only opening of the first movement (there are four movements, three unnamed) led the way to the sudden lyricism of a horn melody. As an idea of just how acute  Adès' ear is, harp, upright piano and celesta form a backdrop to a beautiful bass oboe as part of the second movement. This was by far the most impressive section of the work, darkly lyrical in impulse. The glacial opening of the third movement, 'Ecstatico', led to what Paul Griffiths in his notes identifies as evidence of the club scene in the pounding beat. This struck me as a latter-day Bernstein at work (I half expected the orchestra to shout 'mambo!' at one point). The primordial hammerings certainly set the open spaces of thefinale into relief, but I reiterate that the sense was of an imagination that still needs tighter expression.

The first half was one of the longest I have attended – it ended just after ten to nine! (the concert itself finished at just after ten). The second part at times felt like the longest second half, too, although it was only three quarters of an hour. Taking the lengthy exposition repeat in the first movement of Brahms' Second Symphony actually makes sense as long as the ongoing performance holds the attention. The opening had no problems in this respect – the horns were glorious and were nearly matched by th trombones. Yet the impetus dropped quickly. Strings sounded shrill in fortes (partly the acoustic), but that felt like a relatively minor quibble. I kept wishing for the structural awareness of a Wand or the sheer wonder of Carlos Kleiber here.

The second movement felt as if Dohnányi had found the tempo giusto (it moved but was not rushed), yet lower strings did not quite glow. The turbulent skies raised hopes that things were turning towards the truly Brahmsian, before a brisk and decidedly un-grazioso Allegretto grazioso brought matters back to the way they had been. The finale had some energy, but not enough. The coda was too little too late to rescue an interpretation as lacklustre and patchy as this.

A mixed concert, to say the least.

 

Colin Clarke