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SEEN
AND HEARD CONCERT REVIEW
Brahms:
Philharmonia
Orchestra, Lorin Maazel (conductor). Royal Festival Hall, London,
28.6.2008 (MB)
Brahms – Symphony no.3 in F major, Op.90
Brahms – Symphony no.4 in E minor, Op.98
This was the second of three concerts entitled ‘Brahms: the
Romantic,’ with Lorin Maazel now conducting the Philharmonia, having
previously presented the series with both the Bavarian Radio
Symphony Orchestra and the New York Philharmonic. The size of the
orchestra encouraged: none of this miniaturist nonsense concerning a
supposed re-creation of Brahms in Meiningen, as if that were the
only orchestra with which he worked. Even if it had been, that would
have precious little to tell us today. Rather we had a ‘standard’
Romantic string section of proportions 16.14.12.10.8. Nor was there
any hint of the frankly ludicrous non-vibrato approach trumpeted by
Roger Norrington. In other words, music rather than dubious
‘historical’ claims – which, in fact, are characterised by a
complete lack of historical understanding – came first. Division of
the first and second violins – a practice the ‘authenticists’ have
outrageously claimed as their own, as if Furtwängler and countless
other conductors had never lived – was not followed, but Maazel
showed that one can still register the interplay between them
without a fully antiphonal physical separation. He also showed that
there are passages which can benefit from having the lower strings
seated further away: a salutary reminder to those of us who are too
ready dogmatically to favour the alternative.
The fullness of the Third Symphony’s opening wind chords was most
encouraging, as was the subsequent richness of the lower strings:
one might have been in Dresden. There were fine contributions from
the principal oboe (Christopher Cowie) and the pizzicato strings.
However, the first movement as a whole was surprisingly sombre, not
least on account of its slow tempo. There are of course all sorts of
ways to understand Allegro con brio, but I felt that this
performance often lacked both components of its job-description.
Added to that, there were numerous instances of slowing down, with
the result that the music almost ground to a halt. Somehow the
structure remained admirably clear, as it would throughout both
symphonic performances, but drama was often lacking. Maazel wrote in
the programme that a conductor ‘conversant with the sonatas, trios,
quartets et al., can learn to eschew rhetorical flourishes,
saccharine pulping of phrases and maudlin dawdling’. There was not
much of the first two qualities but I can only wish that he had
followed his own advice with regard to the third. The opening of the
second movement was better. Clarinets and bassoons sounded
positively Mozartian in the opening, attentively answered first by a
pair of horns and then by lower strings. The violins sounded
silky-smooth when they finally entered. Although the general tempo
was again rather slow, it was ruminative and yet forward-moving; it
did not drag. This allowed some gorgeous – if at times a little
Tchaikovskian – sounds to emanate from the orchestra, not least from
the ’cellos. They also took the lead at the opening of third
movement, with the first violins once again silky in their response.
This was a case when the orchestral seating truly paid off. Horn
(Nigel Black) and oboes solos were especially remarkable for their
warmth. The movement retained its intermezzo-like character despite
the slow speed, although it was a somewhat sombre example of its
kind. The opening of the finale brought with it some much-needed
tension, yet the movement soon became a little too stately. The
celebrated quiet ending sounded exhausted rather than peaceful, in
spite of a splendidly ominous kettledrum roll from Andrew Smith.
Maazel’s interpretation on clearly resulted from a considered
approach, if sometimes a little exaggerated in that respect; yet its
sombre, even somnolent quality was not really successful, at least
for me. Brahms sounded sapped of his vitality – and this in a work
in which I at least think of him as standing close to the spirit of
Haydn.
The Fourth sounded very different and was on the whole more
successful. Those celebrated opening thirds, from which the whole of
the symphony’s Schoenbergian developing variation results, sounded a
little too sectionalised. I certainly have nothing against
underlining the legacy for Schoenberg, Webern, and even Stockhausen,
but the intervals form part of greater structures too. The
analytical approach began to pay off more clearly, however, when one
heard far more of the crucial inner parts, for instance the violas,
than is often the case; this aided rhythmic impetus as well as
motivic development. It is worth remarking here the outstanding
contribution from the violas throughout, and that of their guest
principal, Joel Hunter; one could see as well as hear the dynamic
leadership he offered to his colleagues. The icy tragedy of the
first movement’s conclusion was extremely well judged. However, the
opening of the Andante moderato sounded a little too
stentorian; the horn solo sounded far more beguiling the second time
around. That said, the contribution of pizzicato strings was
faultless; moreover, when the violins took up their bows against the
plucked lower strings, they truly took flight. Full vibrato
intensified the strings’ consoling role. At times, however, the
movement dragged a little, as was highlighted by the vigorous
opening of the scherzo. This movement sounded magnificent; every
section shone, and one should not here forget the crucial
contribution of the triangle. Tension was maintained throughout,
which continued into the finale. There was an ominous tread from the
very beginning, although this was occasionally imperilled thereafter
by excessive sectionalisation. (At least the great passacaglia’s
structure was crystal clear.) That said, there was a majesty to the
slowest sections that impressed on its own terms; to the rest, there
was a vehemence that ultimately struck the right sort of tragic
note.
Mark Berry
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