SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Haydn: Symphony No.49, 'La Passione'
John Adams: 'The Wound-Dresser'
Schubert: Symphony No.8 in B minor 'Unfinished'
Berg: Three Orchestral Pieces, Op.6

  

This was the second of two concerts at the Barbican by the New York Philharmonic and their new chief conductor Alan Gilbert, as part of an international tour. This concert, like their preceding Barbican concert, was interestingly programmed blending old, not so new, and contemporary repertoire.. They opened with a classical work which should certainly be played more: Haydn's so called 'La Passione' symphony, from his 'Sturm und Drang' period. Nicknames which works aquire are usually highly dubious, but they tend to stick. This is particularly the case with Haydn and  this symphony, where the idea is that it gained its title through being performed at the   Esterhazy Eisenstadt Palace on Good Friday - a claim which is almost certainly spurious. And the fact that the symphony is predominantly in the minor key is not peculiar in relation to the whole set of  'Sturm und Drang' symphonies.

Gilbert deployed a quite large string section with four double -basses. This was certainly not a 'period' performance, although its crisp delivery, with a minimum of string vibrato, and prominent wood and horns, did give it a period feel. Gilbert took all four movements at a fairly brisk tempo, with no slowing down for expressive emphasis. The C minor second movement 'Allegro di molto', in contrast to the opening F minor 'Adagio' , was especially impressive for its thrust and clariy: how refreshing to hear everything in tune, and so accurately delivered, although never sounding mechanical. And the final 'Presto' was as fast as a presto can be, but never sounded merely fast for the sake of fast. Occasionally I missed the more acerbic tone of natural horns and period strings, but overall, this was impressive Haydn.

Baritone Thomas Hampson was in excellent form tonight as the soloist in Adam's 'The Wound-Dresser'. The text is from the Walt Whitman poem of that name, and is a refection on the scenes witnessed by Whitman when he was a nurse in military hospitals at the time of the American Civil War. The work takes the form of a kind of solo cantata, and has a wider significance for Adams in relation to all forms of suffering, both in war and in illness. The work, llasting around twenty minutes, is modestly scored, and is mostly introspective and concilliatory, matching the reflective and moving tone of the Whitman poem. Gilbert and the orchestra were in perfect accord, both with the subtleties of the poem, and as accompanists to Hampson’s delivery.

Gilbert gave a straightforward and direct account of the Schubert 'Unfinished', but his direct approach in no way sounded bland or dull - quite the opposite in fact, being full of subtle dynamics and transitions. It was really refreshing to hear this 'classic' played as Schubert directs, especially in terms of tempo. Like much standard repertory this work suffers from too much interpretation, especially the kind that overlays the score with all manner of rhetorical 'soul', and metaphysical angst. Gilbert, for once read the first movement’s tempo marking correctly as: 'Allego moderato' - moderately fast. And by observing the correct tempo,  Gilbert was able to reveal the work’s natural flow, lyricism and song like tone, correctly observing the exposition repeat. The movement’s central B minor climax, if anything, gained from this approach, sounding just as another New York Philharmonic Principal conductor, Arturo Toscanini, sounded here, more intense but more lucidly dramatic in its objective directness. The same qualities applied to the 'Andante co moto' second movement. ( How many conductors simply  ignore or misread this marking especially the 'con moto'.) Gilbert was careful to balance and contrast the basic lyrical E major of this movement with the more dramatic minor key, statements. All this was reconciled with great tonal finesse by the gentle and magical transition from A flat serenity to the concluding poetic calm of the B minor home key. 

Berg's friend and pupil Theodor W. Adorno commented that the 'Marsch' (the last movement from Berg's Op.6) must sound something like the finale of Mahler's Ninth Symphony superimposed on Schoenberg's Op. 16  Orchestral Pieces. The composer optimistically took Adorno's 'diacritical’ and ironic remark as a compliment but I am not completely sure whether or not the effect was achieved tonight. Initially I was overwhelmed by the sheer precision and clarity delivered with such assurance and have I rarely heard those off-beat hammer blows in the the 'marsch' projected with such puntuality... the resonance of shock! The second movement 'Reigen' (Round-dance) really conveyed a sense of parody -the phantom emanation of Viennese waltz themes- within a vortex of the recurring semblance of  ostinato figurations and I am sure that Berg must have been familiar with the allegory of recurrence found in Nietzsche. The monotone allusion of rhythm/harmony in the 'Preludium' , contoured by the initial high trombone entry was perfectly balanced and played and in a similar way, all the prismatic, contrupuntal complexity of the final 'Marsch' was dispatched in stunningly clarity - a kind of orchestral 'aural' equivalent of 3-D, which Adorno would have detested.

But was this all a bit too reliant on stunning technical virtuosity? This is a difficult question since Berg certainly points to this kind of clarity in the score, with its incredibly lucid deployment of massive orchestral forces. Even the catastrophic final dissonant crash sounded 'bang-on' (literally) registering an epochal cataclysm: the period of the work’s composition was 1913 – 15. Later,   I played the Boulez and classic Rosbaud recordings which, although not conveying quite the same degree of orchestral virtuosity, registered in their different ways, something of the a-tonal, dissonant drama with more conviction. But perhaps one needs to have 'lived' closer to the historical catastrophe capture this convincingly? 

As encores Gilbert gave us a straightforward, rather clipped rendition of the 'Egmont' Overture, and a predictably idiomatic account of Bernstein's 'Lonely Town', from 'On the Town'. Without wishing to sound as grumpy as Adorno, I really felt that after the catastrophe of the preceding Berg, this additional 'party' stuff amounted to little more than bathos, but that's only my personal opinion. The Barbican audience loved it.

Geoff Diggines  

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