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            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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