Concerto
performances by Martha Argerich in the UK
- being the rare occasions they are – inevitably
mean packed concert halls, and so it was at
the Festival Hall on Saturday. Ms Argerich
seems to have the world at her feet - does
this mean, therefore, that she gets to pick
her conductors? One would assume so, yet there
seemed a massive chasm between Argerich’s
facility and her identification with Prokofiev,
and the superficial account the LPO gave of
the accompaniment under Krivine. Perhaps the
clarinet ‘bump’ in the introduction (as it
reached the highest note of its phrase and
the strings entered) was a mere accident,
but the perfunctory account of the Theme (of
the Theme and Variations second movement)
could not have been on purpose. Only in the
finale was there any sense of abandonment
from the orchestra - it lagged a full two
movements behind Argerich! Even when piano
and orchestra exchange off-beats in an impassioned
dialogue in the first movement (normally one
of the most exciting passages), the orchestra
was lacklustre.
Argerich
was, interpretatively, in a different universe.
If there is one element of this performance
to take away, it is the sheer variety of touch
Argerich brought out from within Prokofiev’s
score. True, Argerich’s martellato
set the adrenalin full steam ahead (it was
properly martellato - this hammer has
a mistress!) and the finale showed on occasion
what a huge sound she can make. But
there were also moments of magical soft playing
(here is one pianist not afraid to play pianissimo,
or quieter). Her trill that opens the piano’s
contribution to the second movement was a
model of evenness, and I for one would happily
sell my soul to the Devil to play the ensuing
scale like that - just the once! The
sheer blackness of the close of the second
movement came as a revelation (as did the
lyric climax of the last movement, which sounded
unsettlingly like a nod in the direction of
Messiaen). The energy of the final pages evidently
transferred to the audience, as the ovation
was (perhaps predictably) massive.
What
a shame about the rest of the concert, though.
Moments of delight in Ravel’s Alborado
del grazioso (in the form of light oboe
and characterful bassoon solos) were scuppered
by an over-zealous percussion section that
drowned out anything else playing at the time.
A shame also, that this question has to be
asked - had they even rehearsed Mussorgsky’s
Pictures? Or was the orchestra in such
a state of shocked awe after Argerich had
graced them with her presence that they simple
couldn’t play? Or did they simply not care
less?
I suspect
the latter. Never have I heard such a blatant
wrong entrance from a professional orchestra
as the one an over-eager violinist provided
us with. The edges of ‘Gnomus’ were softened;
the horn player who provided the second Promenade
sounded ill… Why did Krivine put enormous
breaks in between pictures (before ‘Tuileries’
and before ‘Two Polish Jews’)? Why did the
marketplace at Limoges sound so down-beat
(positively inanimate, in fact)? This is also
the first time in my experience that ‘The
Hut on Fowl’s Legs’ failed to ignite at all;
the ‘Great Gate’ was hardly resplendent (oh,
and wind tuning took a holiday, too). This
was worse that a rehearsal run-through. In
hindsight, we should all have left at the
interval. We would have taken away finer memories.
Colin
Clarke
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