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SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL CONCERT REVIEW
Lutoslawski, Bruckner:
Krystian Zimerman (piano), San Francisco Symphony, Herbert Blomstedt,
conductor; Davies Symphony Hall, San Francisco, 30.10.2008 (HS)
Lutoslawski:
Piano Concerto
Bruckner:
Symphony No.2 in C minor
In his tenure as music director of the San Francisco Symphony, which
preceded Michael Tilson Thomas', some of Herbert Blomstedt's most
memorable performances involved symphonies by Bruckner and Mahler.
Something about their grand landscapes and deep roots in the German
tradition responds to his methodical approach, his sense for the
overall shape of a piece and his knack for creating a steady buildup
to a climax.
All of that was on display Thursday when Blomstedt, conductor
laureate of the orchestra since 1995, took on Bruckner's rarely
heard Symphony No. 2 on a program with Lutoslawski's colorful
and vivid Concerto for Piano and Orchestra, Krystian Zimerman
playing the piece he debuted in 1988. It made for a satisfying
concert.
The 2005 reconstruction of the 1872 original Bruckner symphony (but
revised before the first performances in 1873) may lack the layers
of invention and sense of rapturous meditation that can pervade the
later works, but it has a lot of the composer's earmarks, from
polyphony in the first movement to big brass chorales in the finale.
The form is resolutely classical, and the music comes in big blocks
or chunks, winding down to a stop before proceeding to the next
section even more often than he was wont to do in his later
symphonies.
Blomstedt seemed perfectly happy to let Bruckner have his say
without trying to impose any extra ideas on the music. He conducted
it like he believed in it as a great symphony, and the lack of
artifice played well. The harmonies of the opening movement carried
along the modest sweep of melodies welling up from it. The
minor-key, dolorous Scherzo (it struck me as pointing toward
Shostakovich's scherzos, but without the wit) lightened up only in
its elegant trios, and the Adagio opened up into a quiet pool of
A-flat major sonorities with a heartfelt song layered on top. The
middle two movements were played in that order, which harks back to
the composer's original format. The finale makes extensive use of
sustained brass chorales, which the symphony's trumpets and
trombones delivered with rich sonorities, and Blomstedt anchored the
resplendent final pages with a certain gravitas.
The piano concerto, which opened the program, is another thing
entirely. In his tenure here, Blomstedt always seemed to approach
late-twentieth-century music with a sort of eat-your-spinach
mentality. He always seemed impatient to get to the meat, or the
Romantic-era symphony occupying the other half of the program. Here,
though, he showed genuine gusto in the way he attacked Lutoslawski's
score.
Lutoslawski's music often leaves much to chance. He prescribes
certain pitches or rhythms, and lets the players take them as they
will, anchored at certain moments signaled by the conductor. Later
in his career, however, he used this device as a means to an end,
starting off loosely and gradually bringing the elements together
into a thoroughly defined conclusion. He does this in the piano
concerto, starting off with swirls of woodwind and string gestures
that gradually coalesce into something that seems to glance back to
Bartok's atmospherics and rhythms along with Rachmaninov's broad
gestures, but this composer's own harmonic language. It's a colorful
mix.
The piano part is especially taxing, but Zimerman executed the
difficult double octaves, complex dissonances, jagged rhythms and
sudden recessions into quiet harmonies with ease. This
start-and-stop pattern, where the music revs up only to sink back
into something quiet to catch its breath, gives the concerto a sense
of suspense and a gradual buildup to a climax. (The climax is
perhaps the only thing it has in common with the Bruckner
symphony.) Blomstedt and Zimerman brought things to a riveting
finish.
Harvey Steiman