This week's concert programme at the Kitchener-Waterloo Symphony was definitely dominated by the music of Eastern Europe. The concert opened with two shorter works from Romania and Hungary, and the first half wrapped up with Ravel. Then, after the intermission, we heard Ravel's sublime orchestration of Mussorgsky's piano suite, Pictures at an Exhibition.
While the evening was filled with musical interest at all levels, I have to point out that all of the works on this programme really tested the orchestra's virtuoso skills -- and in particular, the solo skills of leading players throughout the woodwind and brass sections (which Anna Russell so tellingly defined as the "Blow section").
While the evening was filled with musical interest at all levels, I have to point out that all of the works on this programme really tested the orchestra's virtuoso skills -- and in particular, the solo skills of leading players throughout the woodwind and brass sections (which Anna Russell so tellingly defined as the "Blow section").
The concert opened with the first of two Romanian Rhapsodies, Op. 11, by Romanian composer George Enescu. Although Enescu had a long and distinguished career as a composer, conductor, musician, and teacher of the violin to such distinguished virtuosi as Yehudi Menuhin, Arthur Grumiaux, and Ida Haendel, these two rhapsodies (composed at the ripe old age of 19) are by far his best-known compositions.
The woodwind soloists presented the pastoral lines of the slow opening section with true tone and ideal legato. Once the increasingly frantic moto perpetuo of the faster second part got under way, it was the strings' turn to display impressive unanimity on the endlessly repeated off-beat chords, whether bowed or pizzicato. Music Director Andrei Feher gave the music room to breathe in the slower part, with understated but effective rubato. His crisp direction in the hectic final pages held the music impressively together.
The woodwind soloists presented the pastoral lines of the slow opening section with true tone and ideal legato. Once the increasingly frantic moto perpetuo of the faster second part got under way, it was the strings' turn to display impressive unanimity on the endlessly repeated off-beat chords, whether bowed or pizzicato. Music Director Andrei Feher gave the music room to breathe in the slower part, with understated but effective rubato. His crisp direction in the hectic final pages held the music impressively together.
The next work, similar in character if not in nationality (Hungarian this time), was the Dances of Galánta, composed in 1933 by Zoltán Kodály. The work opens with a slow introduction, a clarinet cadenza, and a stately dance in andante maestoso; the four succeeding dances are faster. In this way, Kodály has preserved the traditional slow-fast pattern found in so many Eastern European musical traditions -- a pattern which often is derived from the lassu-friss' of the Roma. As with the Enescu, the music gets steadily faster and more frantic as it approaches the finish line.
Everything I said about the performance of the Enescu also held true here. I confess to a personal preference for the Kodály over the Enescu, and the orchestra's performance definitely brought out all the wealth of colour and rhythmic imagination in this undervalued score.
The first half concluded with the Concerto in D Major for Piano (left hand) and Orchestra by Maurice Ravel. This work was composed simultaneously with the sparkling G Major Piano Concerto. And I have to confess that I have never enjoyed the Left Hand Concerto at all. Both dark and (in the main) ponderous, it sails perilously close to Donald Tovey's infamous description of an early Liszt tone poem as a series of introductions to introductions to introductions.
Pianist Teo Gheorgiu gave a sterling account of the solo part. As always, it was fascinating to watch on the overhead screen as his left hand negotiated virtuoso fireworks which often sound as if the pianist is cheating with both hands (he wasn't). Conductor Feher integrated the orchestral support with care, and the performance hung together most effectively. It's certainly not the performers' fault that the work itself always seems to me to hang fire.
Everything I said about the performance of the Enescu also held true here. I confess to a personal preference for the Kodály over the Enescu, and the orchestra's performance definitely brought out all the wealth of colour and rhythmic imagination in this undervalued score.
The first half concluded with the Concerto in D Major for Piano (left hand) and Orchestra by Maurice Ravel. This work was composed simultaneously with the sparkling G Major Piano Concerto. And I have to confess that I have never enjoyed the Left Hand Concerto at all. Both dark and (in the main) ponderous, it sails perilously close to Donald Tovey's infamous description of an early Liszt tone poem as a series of introductions to introductions to introductions.
Pianist Teo Gheorgiu gave a sterling account of the solo part. As always, it was fascinating to watch on the overhead screen as his left hand negotiated virtuoso fireworks which often sound as if the pianist is cheating with both hands (he wasn't). Conductor Feher integrated the orchestral support with care, and the performance hung together most effectively. It's certainly not the performers' fault that the work itself always seems to me to hang fire.
Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition was composed in 1874 for piano, and in its original form is one of the great virtuoso challenges of the repertoire. Maurice Ravel was commissioned to create an orchestral arrangement in 1922, and did so with such skill and imagination that his version has far overshadowed all of the many other orchestral versions which have been created. In recent years, it has become a rather overworked showpiece -- but I'm sure this will continue to be true until audiences stop buying tickets and/or recordings, an event which doesn't seem either likely or imminent.
Be that as it may, Feher and the orchestra treated the Ravel version to one of the finer performances among the many I have heard. The various wind and brass solos were all treated to effective but understated renditions, giving them more of a feeling of integration with the work as a whole than one sometimes hears. Apart from one or two moments, the orchestral ensemble was well-balanced and coordinated at all times. If The Marketplace at Limoges was a bit loose around the edges of rhythm, no such problem attended the wild ride of the Baba Yaga in The Hut on Chicken's Claws -- and the slower central section of that piece had as spooky and unnerving an atmosphere as I can ever recall hearing. The final Great Gate of Kiev was grand without becoming over-driven, and the concluding pages retained absolute clarity amid the orchestral glories.
A rewarding and effective concert indeed.
A rewarding and effective concert indeed.
No comments:
Post a Comment