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Mozart; Overture: The Magic Flute

Bartòk: Piano Concerto No 3

Bartòk: Cantata Profana

Haydn; Symphony No 102 in B flat.

This was a nice piece of programming with no specific interlinking musical/historical theme, although Bartók always retained the classical mode as his formal model, as can be heard in his last piano concerto. But the Cantata Profana preceding the Haydn symphony (in the Proms second half) also worked well. One could even argue that the two works share folk music influences; but that relation is really quite tenuous. I would go along with the equally tenuous view of conductor David Robertson that the Haydn and the Bartók cantata both exude a kind of identity with nature.

After a decently played but tentative rendition of the overture to Die Zauberflöte we were in for some Bartókian delights with the totally empathetic pianism of veteran American pianist Richard Goode in the third Piano Concerto. Goode's instinctive understanding of the opening double octaves running below a simple string accompaniment set the tone for the whole concerto. Like Serkin (père et fils) Goode never goes in for pianism for the sake of it. Everything was perfectly (and musically) delineated to cohere with the concerto as a whole. In the central movement 'Adagio religioso' Goode echoed the first movement’s rhythmic relationships in the central trio section maked 'night music'. And instead of pounding away too relentlessly in the  final 3/8 'Allegro vivace' he reserved real rhythmic power for the short rondo development section and the terse, powerful coda, thereby sounding far more arresting and convincing. Overall, Robertson and the BBC orchestra provided sympathetic accompaniment, especially in the hushed pp passages of the central movement. And apart from some messy ensemble, especially in the the final movement, Goode and Robertson sustained a most convincing and musical rapport through the whole work.

 

The Cantata Profana is one of Bartók 's earlier works, conceived in 1914 and developed in the 1920's from Romanian (Transylvanian) folk sources: Bartók didn't complete the score (in Hungarian) until 1930. The choral writing here is so divers and original, it makes one wonder why he didn’t write more major choral music.   Bartók called the work an 'Epic Folk Ballad' and although it derives from the secular pre-Christian story of the 'Nine Enchanted Stags' it has enormous ecological, and ethical resonances (arguably even more intense now) as a warning about how nature will ultimately return to take its revenge on a modern age which exploits natural resources for its own ends. The allegory tells the story of nine young sons who go out hunting at their father’s behest and transform themselves into nine resplendent stags. When the father begs them to return to human form they refuse, preferring to live within the natural world, warning the father against further intrusiveness and destruction: all the way through the work we hear a rejection of alienated 'civilisation' in favour of the natural ethos. Apart from some slight pitch problems in the choral line, and some dubious Hungarian pronunciation, this was a splendidly realised reading, with Robertson showing a real understanding of the work’s amazing levels of dramatic/tonal contrast within a piece lasting just over 18 minutes. The opening contrapuntal interweaving of the choral and orchestral lines, a homage to Bach, was beautifully conveyed and the BBC orchestra responded splendidly, especially in wonderfully rough, bucolic hunting music. Tonight’s tenor and baritone soloists were also  in splendid form: despite the fact that Bartók originally had Hungarian singers in mind I can't imagine him being too critical of this performance.  

I am still at a loss to understand why Haydn's superb late symphonic achievements (so crucial for Beethoven's symphonic development) are not performed more in concert and indeed one could go on to say the same thing about the early and 'middle' period symphonies.  The B flat symphony, No 102 comes from the second series of Haydn's 'London Symphonies', and was first performed at the King’s Theatre in the Haymarket in 1794.  It provides an excellent compendium of Haydn's later compositional innovations. There is  intricate tonal modulation and contrast in the opening 'Largo' and transition into the 'Allegro vivace', contrupuntal daring in the movement’s development section, instrumental subtlety and contrast in the 'Adagio' and all manner of wit and rhythmic/tonal finesse in the 'Menuetto' and finale.  Robertson invested the symphony with a dynamism, elegance and drama from start to finish. In the  first movement’s staggering canonic development section , one could hear (with antiphonal violins) what Tovey meant when he described it as 'inexhaustible'... 'as if everything happens here'. Robertson inflected the performance with 'period' elements; high, brilliant trumpets and horns, hard sticks and tightly drawn timpani and an absolute minimum of vibrato in the rest of the orchestra. I particularly liked the way the trumpets and drums sounded so ''present” in the 'Adagio' and the lift applied to the Menuetto's main rhythmic figure. All of Haydn's wit and fun in the finale were made to register fully , while never losing sight of the more dramatic and 'serious' aspects of the music. Moments of rhythmic inaccuracy, particularly in the strings,  detracted hardly at all from the general excellence of the performance. 

Geoff Diggines

 

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