Substituting Beethoven’s
Fourth Symphony for the Coriolan Overture
made for a substantially longer than expected
evening. In the end, however, it was the Fourth
that provided the highlight of the concert.
Despite a shaky start (a slow downbeat with
ambiguous nadir is a recipe for rugged ensemble,
as Gardiner conclusively proved), the allegro
vivace was remarkably mobile with impressive
dynamism from the inner parts. Structurally,
Gardiner was very much in control, the exposition
repeat seeming entirely logical. Syncopated
accents were full of life – the LSO seemed
to really enjoy itself. A couple of points
gave cause for concern, though: although it
looked as if the sound might be bass-led and
deep (four double-basses placed behind the
woodwind in a row), in fact the balance was
remarkably airy, some would say insubstantial;
also the timpanist’s hard sticks made the
harmonically all-important roll that ushers
in the recapitulation curiously insubstantial
and lacking in mystery.
There must be something about
Gardiner and downbeats, because the second
movement did not begin together, either. Some
suspect clarinet tuning was offset by effective
antiphonal string writing. At this latter
point, Gardiner seemed intent on exposing
the modernist side of Beethoven, as he did
also by asking the horns to stop certain notes
which would have been impossible to play naturally
on a hand horn, thus sharpening the texture.
In fact, this was a performance
that improved very much from movement to movement.
Gardiner had obviously rehearsed a hierarchy
of accents in the third movements that meant
that phrases had real directionality and impulse,
complementing the quirky Trio perfectly. The
finale was a triumph, strings scurrying away.
The tremendous drive was the result of accuracy
of ensemble, not just speed. Things now augured
well: the LSO had warmed up.
Piotr Anderszewski has been
making waves in pianistic circles recently.
His Diabelli Variations has been well
received, as has his new all-Chopin recital
(both for Virgin Classics). Alas he was, it
would seem, under form. Either that or Beethoven’s
First Piano Concerto is just not his piece.
The orchestra seemed ambivalent in its response:
the first octave statement was perfectly together;
the second, which follows immediately, displayed
the ensemble of the opening of the Fourth
Symphony we had just heard. Gardiner conducted
four beats to a bar, which at this lick was
something of an achievement – but did it help?
After a good start (scintillating arpeggios,
clean pedalling), Anderszewski made one all
too aware of just how difficult and tricky
Beethoven’s writing is (and by extension,
just how fine a pianist Beethoven must have
been). To hear the difficulties in this manner
is emphatically not a good thing. It becomes
uncomfortable to listen to. In addition, sforzati
were forced, the tone harshened (possibly
not deliberately). Talking of forcing, elucidation
of part-writing from Anderszewski seemed more
the result of what a teacher had told him
to do rather than his own discovery. There
was no sense of delight in this aspect of
his interpretation. An average cadenza was
marred by the orchestra not coming in together
with Anderszewski at its close.
By now ragged ensemble was
becoming de rigeur, so it was no surprise
when piano and orchestra disagreed at exactly
which point the Largo began. A flowing tempo
did not help Anderszewski, as, despite some
nice turns of phrase, his rubato frequently
emerged as studied. Tellingly, exposed chordal
writing was clumsily weighted and accompanimental
figures embarrassingly literal. Interplay
with woodwind, so often a joy, was laboured.
The finale began at a tremendous pace, amongst
a flurry of bronchial clearance. Anderszewski
responded to Beethoven’s infectious rhythms
by physically bouncing up and down rather
than projecting the life of the music through
his fingers. He was unsmiling and unsophisticated
– the orchestra was streets ahead, and it
came as a relief when they had the road all
to themselves. This was the first time in
a long time that I started to listen to the
accompaniment so that I did not have to listen
to the pianist. A severe disappointment.
Things could only get better,
surely, after the interval? In the end, Gardiner
and the LSO gave a mixed account of the famous
Fifth. They really launched into the opening
motto (together, this time). Stopped horns
gave a real timbral edge to this dynamic,
raw reading. The second movement, given at
a natural flowing tempo, unfortunately exuded
little sense of mystery, emerging as a stop-start
affair; the third movement brought vigorous
playing (brazen brass, virtuoso double-basses)
and an undercurrent of determination. But
the bridge passage to the finale was not
pregnant with expectation (quite an achievement,
given Beethoven’s careful harmonic prolongation
here). The finale itself brought its own surprise.
Now glowing and resplendent, the orchestra
was suddenly enlivened. Gardiner showed real
structural grasp of the music’s processes,
but the tempo was so fast that one wondered
what would happen at the coda. Well, it was
indeed faster than the main body of the finale,
but alas the tensile undercurrent so necessary
had decided to leave before the end.
A packed Barbican, great
expectations … I had hoped for more. Much
more.
Colin Clarke
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