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Alix Goolden Performance Hall
June 16, 2012
"The Fourth Tchaikovsky Symphony proved to be one of the most thoroughly Russian, i.e. semi-barbaric, compositions ever heard in the city. ... If Tchaikovsky had called his symphony 'A Sleigh Ride Through Siberia' no one would have found this title inappropriate."
The reviewer in the New York Post was reacting to the first US performance of Tchaikovsky's F minor Symphony, given in 1890, just a dozen years after the music's composition. However, as with other of his works which initially received the critical thumbs down (the first piano concerto and the violin concerto are notable examples) Tchaikovsky is presumably chuckling in his grave in the knowledge that popular taste recognises no authority other than itself and that much of his music remains, over a century after his death, among the most popular in the repertoire.
The Fourth Symphony, one of the first fruits of his relationship with his patroness, Nadezhda von Meck - he dedicated the work to her and, in correspondence, referred to it as "our symphony" - is almost performance-proof, by which I mean that its qualities, particularly its memorable thematic material and superb orchestration, shine through even the most mediocre run-through, unlike, say, the Fifth Symphony.
Not that there was anything of the mediocre or routine about the performance with which Norman Nelson and the Sooke Philharmonic closed their 2011-12 season on Saturday night.
As we have come to expect over the years, Nelson and the Sooke Philharmonic played the music to the hilt, with an edge-of-the-seat intensity that triumphantly overcame any minor technical shortcomings.
The very opening of the work, that brass fanfare which, according to some, represents Fate, was dramatic and arresting and signalled that we were in for something rather special. Nelson's feeling for the Romantic has never been more evident, as he coaxed his players through this lengthy movement; the climax, in particular, was all but overwhelming, although it may have been the relaxation of the tension afterwards which led to the evening's most dangerous moments, as the wind section briefly seemed to part company with the strings. I'm not sure precisely who the culprits were, although Nelson clearly was and if looks could kill there would have been a few corpses littering the stage afterwards.
The andantino which followed provided a welcome relief from the tensions of the first movement. Framed by exquisitely shaped solos from the oboe (Jaquelin Kereluk) at the opening and bassoon (George Kereluk) at the close, the music flowed beautifully and the orchestra provided a full-bodied, rich sound.
The famous pizzicato scherzo was as propulsive as one could have wished and the pizzicatos themselves had splendid precision and depth. The wind passages were a delight.
Even those unfamiliar with the music might have realised what was coming, as the three percussionists took to the stage in preparation for the hell-for-leather finale which opened with a bang (or to be more accurate a BANG) and, despite the calmer interludes, built inexorably to a frenzied final coda which left the enthusiastic audience, if only briefly, stunned into silence.
Talking to several orchestra members afterwards, they all mentioned Nelson's breakneck speed for the final coda - faster than at any rehearsal - and surprise that they had managed to keep up with him.
Which, of course, is part of the secret of a great, inspirational conductor: to summon from his musicians playing of which they had not realised they were capable.
I realise that there are other, more measured, approaches to Tchaikovsky's Fourth. But I'd far rather hear it played this way.
Like those of Mozart, the great majority of Beethoven's concertante works are in the major. Unlike Mozart, whose two minor-key concertos (for piano, K.466 and K.491) are works of his maturity, Beethoven's Piano Concerto No.3, in C minor, is one of those works which mark the transition from his "early" to his "middle" period.
Pianist Karnsiri Laothamatas, a new name to me, was the first-rate soloist in Saturday's performance of the first great concerto of the 19th century.
Clearly a musician who has her own ideas - this was especially notable in the finely-shaped first movement cadenza - Laothamatas also knows when to lead and when to accompany. Her phrasing and exceptionally clean runs were a constant delight and her rubato, although quite dramatic at some points in the finale, was always tasteful.
The accompaniment was in perfect accord with the soloist, dramatic in the first movement, almost dreamlike in the second, lively and energetic in the finale.
As a far-from-slight curtain raiser, Nelson directed an exuberant performance of Malcolm Forsyth's Siyajabula! We Rejoice!, a work written in celebration of the first democratic elections in his native South Africa.
This is also far from easy music to play and Forsyth - who died last year but was aware, via his longstanding friendship with Nelson, that the piece was to be performed at this concert - would surely have been delighted with the commitment and skill with which it was delivered.
There were many things to enjoy: the sonorous brass opening, the delectable wind and pizzicato section, the emotional appearance of Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika (God Bless Africa, one of the two melodies employed in the new South African national anthem).
But most of all, it was the rhythmic vitality of the piece and performance, particular the pounding cross-rhythms, which stick in the memory; kudos here to percussionists Lorna Bjorklund, Rebecca Dunn and Matthew Hodgins, and especially to timpanist Kevin Grady (someone please correct me if I have his name wrong), who stood in for the orchestra's regular timpanist, literally at a few hours' notice and with no rehearsal. No small achievement.
Another memorable night from the Sooke Philharmonic.
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