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SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL CONCERT REVIEW
Mariss Jansons and the Concertgebouw in New York:
Janine Jansen (violin), Jill Grove (mezzo-soprano), New York Choral Artists, Joseph Flummerfelt (Chorus Director), The American Boychoir, Fernando Malvar-Ruiz (Music Director), Mariss Jansons (conductor), Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, Carnegie Hall, New York. 16-17.2.2010 (BH)
Sibelius: Violin Concerto in D Minor, Op. 47 (1903-1904; rev. 1905)
Rachmaninov: Symphony No. 2 in E Minor, Op. 27 (1906-1097)
Mahler: Symphony No. 3 in D Minor (1893-1896; rev. 1906)
My admiration for Mariss Jansons and the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra is boundless, so I hope they will forgive me for spending a few moments wishing that more unusual repertoire would show up on their touring programs. While it was true that the second night’s dramatic Mahler Third Symphony may have made any complaints irrelevant, the first night perhaps begged for a piece by a contemporary Dutch composer, such as Louis Andriessen, whose work is being featured at Carnegie in April. And the Sibelius Violin Concerto and Rachmaninov Second Symphonies are not exactly rarities in New York’s concert halls.
All right, rant over. In the Sibelius, soloist Janine Jansen entered in high relief against a stunningly quiet opening of softly rocking strings. And after Jansen spilled out the first movement’s impassioned cadenza, the sumptuous sound of the ensemble was even more pronounced when it silenced, in an impressively staged ending. Jansen played the second movement “Adagio di molto” as if in a single breath, and when the orchestra entered it was with the slight hesitation of a group afraid that the audience might have forgotten about them. And in the war-dance finale, Jansen created enough excitement to warrant an encore, and an unusual one. As applause died down and she began playing, Vesko Eschkenazy, the orchestra’s concertmaster, jumped up to join her in the third movement “Commodo (quasi Allegretto)” from Prokofiev’s Sonata for Two Violins in C Major. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a joint encore given by anyone, anywhere.
The sprawling Rachmaninoff Second Symphony, here in its uncut hour-long version, may seem diffuse and episodic to some, but Jansons has to be proud of the performance here. Not only did he show off the group’s sheen, but he had virtually the entire audience swept up in the rangy spell. The first movement offered huge swaths of string texture countered by the orchestra’s characteristically piquant oboe (Lucas Macías Navarro), leading to an angry ending with almost shockingly defiant exclamation points in the double basses.
“Genial” is what I wrote about the second movement, played with virtuosity but not blasting off like a Gergiev rocket (exhilarating as that can be). In the middle, following a pianissimo section that subsides almost to inaudibility, I loved the fireball that immediately followed, detonating the cascade of high strings—magnificently planned and executed. Throughout, Jansons remained his usual neat, manicured presence on the podium, with few extraneous gestures. In the third movement, the confidence on display reminded me of artists holding you in good, warm hands; nothing more needed than the willingness to relax and let them take you on a little trip, as more oboe poured out into the hall, with flute and violins not far behind. The final movement, again with a confident pace, boasted more spectacular playing and a wonderful orchestral bloom in the hall’s acoustic.
I hadn’t heard Sibelius’s Valse Triste in many years, before hearing it at Carnegie three nights earlier, when Alan Gilbert did it as an encore with the New York Philharmonic. The chances of hearing it again so soon must have been small, but Jansons and the Amsterdam ensemble pulled it out as their most welcome encore. (PS, As velvety as Jansons’ version was, Gilbert’s lacked nothing in comparison.)
The following night, in the Mahler Third Symphony, all the stars seemed to be aligned properly to produce one of those rare readings with both power and finesse. The first movement—some 35 minutes long here—seemed like an entire symphony in itself, with the orchestra seizing the day in the tumultuous climaxes before suddenly finding moments of piercing intimacy. The second movement had the cheeriness of a music box filled with chirping birds. If I might have preferred a little less neon and more mystery in Jill Grove’s “O Mensch!” there was no doubt about her rich tone, and ability to shape and project sound that seemed to materialize in the air above the audience. And the American BoyChoir and women of the New York Choral Artists acquitted themselves more than admirably in the brief “Es sungen drei Engel.”
But it was the final movement that no doubt convinced any remaining naysayers. As the chorus sat down, Jansons started without pause, and coaxed a reading of this magnetic movement that made one forget to breathe. The orchestra has a sensational brass section, especially the trombones. Their luster, combined with some of the most stunning string playing of the two nights, made Jansons’ job look easy. He unerringly found the right tempi heartbeats, and slowly, patiently let the movement’s vast phrases build to climax after climax with assiduous control. The result, acknowledged by the enormous audience ovation that broke out at the end, almost made my programming rant moot. At that moment, it did seem silly to complain in the face of such breathtaking music making.
Bruce Hodges