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SEEN
AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL CONCERT REVIEW
Gabrieli, Britten, MacMillan:
Munich Philharmonic, James MacMillan (conductor), Daniel Hope
(violin), Gasteig, Munich 12.12.2007 (JFL)
Daniel Hope is proof that good connections, aggressive
management, and astute choices of repertoire and collaborations are at
least as important as talent in manufacturing a career. The
violinist, one of whose greatest distinctions was to have been Yehudi Menuhin’s last student (his mother was Menuhin’s assistant)
and regular collaborator, was still a child when he played
Bartók’s 44 Duos for Violin for German television (and a
subsequent 60 concerts) together with the grand old master.
Picture ©
James MacMillan
Gabrieli: Canzon duodecimi toni, Sonata pian e forte, Sonata XVIII
Britten: Violin Concerto op.15
MacMillan: Symphony “Vigil” (Triduum III)
James MacMillan
His popularity in Germany and the UK stems not least from his
work with Schnittke and the London Royal Academy, membership in
the now retiring Beaux Arts Trio, projects with Klaus Maria
Brandauer, Sting, and Uri Caine. Most recently, a book about
tracing his heritage (“a search for Hope's roots in Europe, Africa
and beyond, weaving the disparate strands of his ancestry –
prosperous assimilated German Jewish families who became refugees
from Hitler, a young Irishman who sought his fortune in South
Africa…”) was a most judicious move that garnered much of that
all-important publicity.
Now he has an exclusive contract with the Yellow Label, Deutsche
Grammophon, – and is in the company of violinists like Hillary
Hahn, Gidon Kremer, and Vadim Repin. Arguably, few experts
would suggest Hope to be quite on the same level as these artists
and I had never been all that impressed with previous recordings I had
heard from him, only thinking him “quite good”. My
impression became much more favorable however when
I
heard him twice
at the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC with the Beaux
Arts Trio where he displayed musicality and chamber-playing
instinct, rather than just serving as a ‘violinist patch’.
Still, his signing with DG was more than a mild surprise. I’ve not
heard the first result of this collaboration yet (the Mendelssohn
Concerto, Octet, and arranged songs with the Chamber Orchestra of
Europe under Thomas Hengelbrock), but I was all the more eager to
hear him in concert again, now as a soloist.
The opportunity provided itself when the Munich Philharmonic,
conducted by composer James MacMillan, took on a nicely
challenging and interesting program of Giovanni Gabrieli choruses
for eight to fourteen brass instruments, Britten’s Violin
Concerto, and MacMillan's own “Vigil” Symphony. After the bright
and impeccable brass pieces had been gotten out of the way, Hope
displayed the Britten. With a nice tone, clarity, accuracy, and
inner tensions, there was little to take issue with except perhaps
the pianissimos which were not all evenly beautiful.
Hope gave a movingly lyrical touch to the concerto,
whether above the timpani pounding away (Beethoven’s spirit
calling) or amid the brass glory in the unbound joyous energy of
the second movement. (No influence of the impending war in Europe
to be heard here.) The great Elliot Carter, 99 years old and
still kicking,
very aptly called the concerto the English pendant to Prokofiev's
and Shostakovich's.
There is a dark brass front towering over the end of the second
movement (“Vivace”), just before the pizzicato studded cadenza,
that briefly has a Shostakovichian, threatening quality. But even
that is not in any way war-like – and leads anyway to the glorious
transition to the Passacaglia of the final movement. The
brass continued sumptuously, Hope with contemplation. This was
clean, impeccable, and a little more than that, too. Emotionally
riveting it was not, but with the Britten it did not need to be
for great effect. The concerto needs first and foremost to be
played beautifully to work well, and that it was beyond any doubt.
I was much enamored with the difficult but enjoyable, profound but
listener-oriented music of James MacMillan when
Out of silence appear sounds of dim color like bulbs, that are then
violently interrupted with percussion. There follows a soft
orchestral passage before another, dark and brass colored, bulb
with growling phrases grows. The phrases become shorter and then
longer again, all awhile brutal sounds alternate with light, lofty
lines: this stop’n’go strategy dominates MacMillan’s first
movement, veering between dark and tender, snarling violence and
gentle touches. The Philharmonic at the Gasteig was filled with
eastern sounds, shy shimmers of metal, ominous swells and ever
recurring moments of portentous silence - silences so complete
that the ticking of my automatic wrist watch seemed embarrassingly
loud.
A brass quintet’s chorale introduces another orchestral clash
(again providing a link to the Gabrieli pieces first heard), there
is more ‘storm and retreat’ going on before the brass lets it rip
in the Easter proclamation "Exultet – (et pro tanti Regis victoria)
tuba insonet salutaris.” ("...Sound the trumpet of salvation!")
The violent climaxes before the celesta create a false (?) sense
of calm and idyll only to be – again – violently and wildly
interrupted at random intervals.
These interruptions were taken as a cue for many audience members
to demonstratively leave the hall, with the third movement not
even under way. These fair-weather listeners thus sent to the exit
in scores, the third movement – “Water” – proved even and flowing
at first, more passive, dark with calm brass passages, lots of
col legno additions by the strings which only now entered the
action in this work. There is an elemental, raw power that sweeps
before it the listener into the cacophonous climaxes in “Vigil”.
It compelled this listener to a happy, inner and delighted
laughter about the work’s audacity but also about its effect on
others (either completely enraptured or uncomfortably squirming in
their seats). After about 16 minutes of darkness in the first two
movements (despite the misleading title “Light” of the first),
light only comes into play in “Water” where its refractions blink
and shimmer to the surface amid the many sounds swirling about.
Mad gallops toward the end of the third movement sent yet another
wave of listeners out of the hall – and during the work’s end over
faint, silver touches you could hear those patrons just outside,
discussing angrily what they had just been made to listen to.
It was a fine day for good new music and a courageous triumph for
the Munich Philharmonic (which offered professional, if not great,
playing). But it was also a monument to the lack of curiosity of
much of its clientele. The Munich audience had proved by virtue of
its absence that it will only pretend to be interested in modern
music to a certain extent… and that programming a “modern, little
known composer” like Britten (that’s sadly his status among many
attendees) with a contemporary piece and some obscure renaissance
prelude is far too ambitious for them to respond to. As rich as
the cultural environment is in Munich, and as much as it prides
itself in its diversity, it cannot deny a certain provincial
attitude that is often coupled with a plain ignorant and
dismissive attitude of all (cultural) things Anglo-Saxon and,
indeed, foreign. Give the subscription holders of the Munich
Philharmonic their Strauss (either), Mozart, Brahms and they shall
be happy. Give them Britten and they won't come - or come and
leave mid-concert. A pity.
Undeterred, laudably, the Munich Philharmonic will offer Thomas
Adès’
Asyla
from January 30th to February 1st.
Jens F. Laurson