SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Mozart and Strauß: Alfred Brendel, London Symphony Orchestra, Bernard Haitink. Barbican Hall, London, 8.6.2008 (BBr)

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Piano Concerto in C minor, K491 (1786)
Richard Strauß: Eine Alpensinfonie, op.64 (1911/1915)


We are lucky to have Alfred Brendel in London. Who else could give us Mozart of such poise, insight and character? Who else could we rely upon to deliver to us Mozart’s tragic (make no mistake, this is a tragic work)  C minor Concerto with such clarity that it sounded as if we’d never heard it before? Who else could simply play the notes and find a special world for us? Of course there is  no other answer – there's only Alfred Brendel.  Tonight, a packed Barbican Hall was present for a performance of Mozart’s C minor Concerto which surpassed all understanding. Brendel’s command of the music was above mere interpretation, it transcended into another realm, where his intellectual insight and interpretative power joined forces for a truly magical experience.

What is it that makes such a performance as this gell and speak so clearly and easily to us, yet convey the otherworldliness of Mozart’s heartbreaking vision? Brendel’s years of experience, his lifetime of concert performances and, of course, the deep thought he has given to this music are fully at his command and he gave of all of it, and then some, to the music. On paper, there are times when it seems as if Mozart has only sketched some of the piano part but with Brendel each of the few notes Mozart gives us was imbued with possibility. The poetic slow movement was glorious, music which transcends time and space – it hangs there before us, perfect and serene. The catastrophe of the ending, like Mozart’s life, snuffed out too soon, came as the shock it should be. That’s it, says Mozart. There is no more. Thank heavens for Alfred Brendel. We should revere him for we will neither see, nor hear, his like ever again.

Richard Strauß was  truly  his own worst enemy. Comments about being able to compose music as a cow gives milk  and, perhaps worst of all, describing himself as a first rate second rate composer have given entirely the wrong impression to the public, and many of his larger works have suffered the stigma of being considered less than perfect and satisfactory creations. Eine Alpensinfonie is one of those works. Taking as its premise a whole days walking and climbing, in 22 sections we experience a glorious sunrise – as impressive as, but much more subtle than, the comparable section in Also Sprach Zarathustra - start our climb, rest at the waterfall, get lost, experience a glacier, finally reach the summit and the gorgeous view it provides us, then down we come, through a fearsome thunderstorm, then sunset and we finish in the night. Of course there’s much obvious scene painting – the waterfall and storm being the most apparent – but along the way, through the use of leitmotiven, it’s an easy passage to follow and there is some absolutely magnificent music. The gigantic orchestra is used with skill – Strauß claimed that it was with this work that he had finally learned to orchestrate (as if that were really so) – and there is much chamber music scoring to balance the huge climaxes.

Bernard Haitink is one of the few conductors today who really have a grip on what Strauß is after in these huge works. He has the ebb and flow of the music at his fingertips and can make sense of what can sometimes seem senseless and ludicrous. This was a magnificent performance, the many and various lines clear and precise, the playing jubilant and heartwarming. I’ve always thought that Eine Alpensinfonie was a much bigger and significant work that it has ever been given credit for being and Haitink went out of his way to prove that point.

I noticed that the microphones were out, in place, and I can only hope that the performance was recorded so that Haitink’s outstanding interpretation can be heard again and again. 

Bob Briggs

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