SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Mendelssohn, Grieg and Tchaikovsky: Jean-Yves Thibaudet (piano), Luxembourg Philharmonic Orchestra, Emmanuel Krivine (conductor), Cadogan Hall, 14.4.2010 (GD)

Mendelssohn: Overture, Hebrides

Grieg: Piano Concerto in A.minor, Op.16

Tchaikovsky: Symphony No.2 in C minor, Op.17, 'Little Russian'.


It was quite apparent from the initiation of the beautiful second A clarinet theme of the 'Hebrides' overture, that we were in for some very subtle orchestral playing at this concert. And when the celli took this theme up, hinting at later F minor modulations in the development section, I was impressed by the sheer elegance of the phrasing and playing. There was nothing of the heavier 'Germanic' quality we sometimes hear at this point and in fact the whole concert had a distinctly Gallic tone in which elegance, exquisite 'taste' and lightness of touch prevailed. This did not imply a lack of power where power was required however; there was a dynamic incisiveness, which in many ways enhanced moments of drama through the clarity of razor sharp accents and rhythmic exactitude: on more than one occasion I was reminded of the sound Monteux  achieved at his best.  The overture would have been a completely exquisite experience if Krivine had not found it necessary to change gear and speed up considerably for the climaxes, robbing the final storm sequence in particular, of its real impact. 

And what a splendid work the Grieg Piano Concerto is too. Up until quite recently it fell out of fashion as a cheesy old war-horse and even Tovey  in the 1920s  took the rather snobbish view that it was a lesser work because of its popular appeal, and didn't include it in his volume on concertos. Tonight however, the eminent French pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet and conductor Emmanuel Krivine worked very well together, with no such preconceptions regarding the work’s sheer quality. Krivine went along with wholeheartedly Thibaudet's interpretation; in other words, he acted as a sympathetic accompanist.

It was obvious from Thibaudet's bravura projection of the first movement’s main theme, after the short dramatic introduction intoned by a crescendo timpani roll, that he was going to enjoy every minute of the performance. There were of course insights and subtleties which pianists like Solomon, Arrau, and lately the Norwegian Lief Ove Andsens,  bring to this concerto that were lacking in Thibaudet's playing, particularly in the more reflective, lyrical passages, but Thibaudet projected a kind of 'joie de vivre' which was again very French. The transition to the major  from A minor in the first movement, was convincingly managed and the brief, but poetically expansive second movement 'Adagio' sounded very 'natural and with no mannerisms. Beautiful as Thibaudet's playing was though, I would have welcomed a shade more introspection, more 'sotto voce' here but  the finale was superb with Thibaudet keeping a firm  but buoyant grip on the opening 3/4 figure. Both conductor and soloist made the A major of the lyrical second subject theme blend in resplendently with the coda’s fusion of that theme with the opening’s 'Quasi Presto.'

As an encore, Thibaudet gave us the aptly chosen and beautifully  reflective 'Waltz' No. 3 in A minor by Chopin, which he played with a beguiling warmth and luminosity, combining virtuosity with poetic tenderness.

Nicknames tend to stick to some works unfortunately. As far as Tchaikovsky was concerned , his Second Symphony would have been known simply as the Symphony No.2 in C minor. The nickname 'Little Russian', added posthumously, referred to the Ukrainian folk tunes that the composer incorporates into the first and last movements – elements which Tchaikovsky himself called the 'Crane' themes. More accurately then, the symphony might properly be called the 'Ukrainian Symphony' if one must have nicknames, and I suspect that this would sound better to modern ears. Former Tsarist regimes gave the name 'Little Russia' to the Ukraine, something which now has distinctly negative connotations. 

Tonight we heard a very compelling account of the symphony. Apart from Russian sounding horn tone, this wasn't a particularly 'Russian' performance and Krivine imbued an element of French elegance into the work, something less inappropriate than it might sound, given the many convergences of culture between France and Russia at the time of the symphony's first performance in Moscow in 1873. After a most beautifully contoured rendition of the opening 'Andante sostenuto',  Krivine  paced the transition into the C minor of the stormy 'Allegro vivo’ perfectly. Cross-rhythms in the strings (antiphonal violins) and sharp 'sforzato' interjections from timpani and brass were excellently intoned and balanced; always powerful and sharp, but also keeping something  extra in reserve for the modulations of major and minor which shape the movement’s climax. The lyricism of the second subject theme made an excellent contrast to the drama and I was aptly reminded not only of Balakirev, Tchaikovsky's early mentor, but also of Borodin. 

The second movement is a ‘quasi march’ as indicated by the marking 'Andante marziale'. It is actually taken from a 'Wedding march' sequence to Tchaikovsky’s unsuccessful, and subsequently destroyed, opera 'Undine'. The movement also incorporates Russian folksong themes and has a simple and economic rustic feel to it. Krivine balanced everything excellently, with some particularly agile and pointed woodwind phrasing, particularly quirky in the octave figurations on the flutes. The mercurial scherzo, again projecting outside influences but particularly those of Borodin, was given plenty of 'bounce' and the shifting of rhythmic gears into the trio’s duple metre was well articulated. All the 'dazzling display' of orchestral colour in the finale was vividly projected without ever sounding inflated and bombastic, as it often does. The Cossack dance music was also delivered with great panache. Krivine played the whole movement uncut, restoring the ominous gong at the climax before the coda, as well as the 'over the top' embarrassment of the piccolo’s repeated 'happy tune' sequence. Personally, I prefer cuts here  but Krivine almost convinced me otherwise, so cogently did he incorporate these passages into a convincing symphonic structure.

As a short but telling encore Krivine reprised the symphony's exuberant coda, something that used to be a common practice, extending on occasion to repeated whole movements. I prefer this kind of practice as an encore, rather than the playing of an entirely different piece of music, often of differing mood, which can  detract from the effect of the main work. If anything, Krivine and the orchestra played the coda with even more dynamic energy and exhilaration  than was evident first time round.

Geoff Diggines