SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

SEEN AND HEARD UK CONCERT REVIEW

Weber, Brahms, Schumann: Yefim Bronfman (piano), Philharmonia Orchestra / Fabio Luisi (conductor), St. David’s Hall, Cardiff, 12.3.2010 (GPu)

Weber, Overture, Oberon

Brahms, Piano Concerto No.1

Schumann, Symphony No.2

Fabio Luisi was a short-notice replacement for an indisposed Christopher von Dohnányi in an engaging and constantly interesting programme. One work was changed from the programme originally scheduled – Beethoven’s overture, The Creatures of Prometheus, was replaced by the overture to Weber’s Oberon. Weber’s overture is perhaps particularly close to Luisi’s heart – he conducted it very well indeed and without a score. He seemed to get the best out of the Philharmonia here and later, the overture beginning with some beautifully shaped and paced phrasing and a translucent delicacy in textures that barely thickened even in the more vivacious passages of the overture, where some finely dancing rhythms were striking. This made for a delightful bonne-bouche before we moved on to very much more substantial fare.

Of both the works which followed one might say that Robert Schumann was an informing presence. As, obviously enough, the composer of his Second Symphony, and as the friend whose attempted suicide was, more or less directly, the occasion which prompted Brahms’ work on a two-piano sonata which eventually was transformed (over a period of some four years) into the composer’s first piano concerto. The turbulent opening embodies (or so Joachim says) Brahms’ reaction to Schumann’s attempted suicide and his subsequent imprisonment in the asylum. Yefim Bronfman playing articulated the conflicted emotions of the music admirably, and Luisi’s conducting was everywhere supportive. There was a strong sense of psychological drama throughout this epic first movement, even if a little bit more darkness in the orchestral playing wouldn’t have gone amiss in one or two places. In the adagio which follows Bronfman’s playing was of the highest order, its withdrawn, almost mystical lyricism of great beauty, Bronfman’s pedalwork had a paricular subtlety and his touch was a model of delicate power. Luisi elicited some hushed orchestral work, some string playing of remarkable delicacy, so as to create a very fine reading of this lovely movement. In the third movement pianist and conductor alike responded to the subtleties of a (characteristically) complex movement, complex emotionally amongst other things. There was a real sense of the music’s depiction of a willed determination to move on, not to leave behind the profundities of the first two movements, but to absorb pain into action, into a resolution to move forward; the ways in which that resolution necessarily meets a variety of obstacles, how the troubled heart and soul have to negotiate hesitations and retrospections, relapses one might almost say, was beautifully captured. This is one of the great works of the piano concerto repertoire and, if not excessively difficult technically is certainly ‘difficult’, emotionally and structurally. Bronfman and Luisi found, with no avoidance of the work’s complexities, a genuine coherence and power which made this a memorable performance.

The days seem to be well gone, fortunately, when Schumann’s symphonies were routinely denigrated. If there are doubters left this, surely, was a performance which might have gone a long way towards converting them. The relative banalities of Schumann’s Overture, Scherzo and Finale were once touted by the composer as his second symphony; they didn’t deserve such a title, this emphatically does. Initially Luisi’s reading of the first movement seemed too elegant, too unmarked by the struggle it cost Schumann to realise this music, a struggle through illness to health, in effect. But the clarity and grace of Luisi’s conducting served to bring out the clarity of Schumann’s structural intentions and the insistent rhythms later in this opening allegro were played with real crispness of ensemble by the Philharmonia. The scherzo had fire, though the abundant energy never robbed the music of grace; perhaps it was just the music which had preceded it which made the two trios sound more Brahmsian than ever. The closing moto perpetuo had irresistible propulsion without the slightest wildness or imprecision. The third movement adagio was movingly pathetic, steeped in a melancholy that was never overstated and played with a winning fragility (of mood and texture, rather than technique); Luisi’s control of orchestral balance and of dynamic transitions was impressive. The last movement certainly lived up to its marking – allegro molto vivace – though Luisi was also thoroughly convincing in the quieter, stiller centre of the movement, before the sheer ebullient joy of the closing pages. By resisting any temptation to sentimentality or excess, and by investing the work with a ‘classical’ elegance, Luisi made a very eloquent case for the work.

Luisis’s star seems to be rising – and it wasn’t hard to see why. It was good too to hear the Philharmonia playing so well.

Glyn Pursglove