SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL CONCERT REVIEW
 

Mozart, Schubert, Tchaikovsky: Vienna Philharmonic, Riccardo Muti (conductor), Halic Convention Center, Istanbul, 23.6.2010 (AM)

Mozart: Symphony No. 36 ‘Linz’ in C Major, KV 425
Schubert: Symphony No. 8 ‘Unfinished’ in B Minor, D. 759
Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 6 ‘Pathetique’ in B Minor, Op. 74

Visiting Istanbul for the very first time, the VPO went home with not just one but two victories: one in the concert hall, and the other, on the field. There is much – maybe even too much, soccer fever going around these days, but we can add to that the friendly football game between members of the Vienna orchestra and the Borusan Istanbul Philharmonic which resulted in a decisive 3-0 win for the Viennese. Turks take pride in their soccer, so I’m sure the Borusan boys gave it their best: alas the only consolation from the game can be that the VPO left Istanbul with memories blissful enough to want to return real soon.

 

The pairing of Riccardo Muti and the Vienna Philharmonic is the ultimate in musical aristocracy. Together they make music that is gracious, noble, and never shy of gallantry. Take their Linz Symphony. The tenuous opening chords that don’t lean towards either a major or a minor tonal center and leave the audience in darkness -even if for a limited time. How do you convey that tricky impression? In Muti’s case, you emphasize a certain member of the triad in each chord –with subtlety, steer your orchestra to sail from major to ambiguity, and, perhaps, take a crucial pause. The audience is immediately captivated; they can’t wait to hear what will follow.

 

Mozart is where the VPO feels right at home. Following the slow introduction, the rest of the movement slid like a sled on ice. Listening to the Vienna Philharmonic and watching Riccardo Muti was very much the one and the same thing. Keeping his body movements to a bare minimum, you could almost read the music from the tip of his hands. That level of transparency is indeed very hard to come by. In the second movement, his attention was on the percussion section. He made sure they carried the leisurely procession forward in both the outer sections and the swerving middle one. The perfect synchronicity of the orchestra seemed to veer off momentarily during the Minuetto’s syncopated bars, but a dazzling finale that was almost too masculine – even for Vienna Philharmonic -  followed featuring fingered vibratos of the most proficient order.

Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony is programmed in concerts way too frequently. Frankly, I prefer listening to it on recordings, simply for the reason that the Andante is bound to fall flat in concerts. The movement is clearly a catalyst to a non-existent third movement; the excitement that Allegro ignites is doused out not by a purposeful blow, but by obscurity. When you know beforehand that you will not leave the table full, no matter what the food is and which celebrated chef may have prepared it, you are bound to be disappointed. You will be served a scrumptious appetizer and a palatable salad, but no main course. But that’s enough with the analogy and the rant.

Muti and the Vienna’s Schubert Allegro was passionate and even fervent. The conductor kept the pace and dynamics just so that the orchestra’s build-up to recurring rogation went barely noticeably. He masterfully distributed the weight between the bass and the treble, and between the soft and the acute to bring them all together later during the more dramatic middle section. The arrangement paid great attention to the bridges in the movement, displaying them to the audience, signalling the oncoming change in advance. All in all, this performance was more tense than we are accustomed to hearing from the VPO. The second movement, in contrast, was played with a lot of restraint, almost lyrical.

After a lengthy break during which the audience spilled out on the promenade to celebrate the cool summer evening, the orchestra came back on stage -with more meat this time, for the looming Tchaikovsky symphony. Muti’s take on the opening bassoon solo and the subsequent bass arrival was as solemn as could be. Up until the time the romantic theme appears for the first time, he made sure the air was heavy hearted, making the only exception in the brass section, allowing them to grizzle some optimism into the mix. The orchestra’s lush romantic melody was a temporary relief further realized by the beautiful clarinet solo passage. But then came one of the most jaw dropping sforzandos I have heard. The orchestra went into a full-on zealous stance. The brass players were particularly fantastic during the storm and  acted as the backbone during the whole passage. I was literally on the edge of my seat during the trombone chorale which wound the music down.

Riccardo Muti’s take on the second movement was extraordinary. I could have sworn his meter was 3/4, he was so convincing in suggesting an elegant dance. The brass took the central stage again in the Allegro molto vivace, not only in the chorus but during the march as well. Muti turned his attention back to his strings in the lamenting finale. There was a constant underlying grieving all the way to the final note, but the conductor did not let that be the only force at play. The D Major theme was played with a tint of despondency, but with the possibility of salvation present as well. Although we all know the symphony ends in total collapse, these little rays of brightness play an essential role in reflecting the multi-faceted nature of this great work. Even if there is no hope at the end of the symphony, deep inside we want to believe that there just might be. When a conductor manages to lift up his audience in the face of impending doom, as Riccardo Muti did this evening, the result is awe-inspiring. And when an orchestra manages to convince us of something we know not to be true, we also know that we are in the presence of not only of great musicianship but of downright artistic ingenuity.

Alain Matalon