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First Metropolitan United Church
February 17, 2017
Say what you like about the music-lovers of earlier times, they certainly had stamina.
Everybody knows about the monstrous Akademie on December 22, 1808, in which Beethoven unveiled not only the fifth and sixth symphonies, but also the fourth piano concerto, the aria "Ah, Perfido!", three movements of the Mass in C and the Choral Fantasy; but few seem aware of an earlier one, on April 5, 1803, also in the Theater an der Wien, which saw the first performances of the second symphony, the oratorio Christus am Oelberger and the third piano concerto, as well as a reprise of the first symphony. A group of other, shorter works, was abandoned due to the length of the programme. Presumably the theatre's lack of heating was less problematic in April than December; even so...
Beethoven was so confident that the 1803 Akademie would be a success that he had increased the usual ticket prices — some were doubled, some trebled — and the event is said to have netted him some 1800 florins, a sizable sum.
It is perhaps surprising, then, that Beethoven's second has possibly the lowest profile of any of The Nine; some conductors, among them the great Wilhelm Furtwängler, view it as a transitional work and rarely programme it, except as part of a complete cycle.
Yariv Aloni and his Victoria Chamber Orchestra are indeed engaged upon a cycle, but one which spans several years and will probably not be completed before 2020.
Having said which, Aloni clearly views the second as far more than a mere filler between the, admittedly ground-breaking, first and the supremely iconoclastic "Eroica" — until the latter symphony was written, the second was the longest symphony ever composed; and, despite the presence in the second half of the programme of one of classical music's best-known works, he and the orchestra clearly put as much effort into the lesser work as the greater, for which I, for one, am truly grateful.
The second symphony opened as it clearly meant to continue: crisp opening chords, clean attack, and excellent, full tone from all parties. The slow introduction featured much detail that is often overlooked and was, for once, not treated as merely an obstacle to be dispatched as painlessly as possible before the main business of the allegro con brio proper could get under way. The transition into said allegro was very smoothly handled and the movement wonderfully vigorous, with excellent tension in the development and well-nigh perfect balances.
If there is one movement, among the thirty-seven which make up Beethoven's symphonies, which arguably outstays its welcome, it is the larghetto; even in Aloni's hands, with warm winds, fine string tone and nicely observed dynamics it did tend to the prolix.
The scherzo — certainly the first time Beethoven used the term in a symphony, perhaps its first use by anyone — was wonderfully bouncy, with superbly perky winds in the trio.
The finale opens with a distinctly attention-grabbing gesture and was imbued with tremendous momentum, easing up very slightly for the second subject, but never absent. The jaunty coda led to a whirlwind conclusion and a storm of applause.
If ever a single musical gesture deserved that cruelly overused, not to mention abused, adjective "iconic", it is surely the four-note phrase (three Gs and an E flat) which opens Beethoven's Fifth. Indeed, it is quite possible that more verbiage has been expended on Beethoven's C minor symphony than any other single piece of music.
Beethoven himself did not find the writing of it easy and it occupied him, on and off, for some four years; he interrupted work on it to compose other music, such as the fourth symphony. At its first performance it was billed as his sixth, with the "Pastoral", also premiered at the same concert, as number five.
Aloni directed a performance of the symphony which swept all before it, from the bold, trenchant opening notes to the tumultuous final pages. Even with, as far as I could tell, all of the repeats — except for the controversial one in the scherzo — taken, the work still only lasted around thirty-five minutes, but such is the music's power and incredible sense of compressed energy that only somebody checking with their watch (guilty, but solely in the interests of reportage) would know this.
In the first movement we were clearly dealing with an enterprise of great pith and moment; the second, taken at a flowing tempo, witnessed some lovely wind playing; the scherzo could perhaps have been just a tad more misterioso at its opening, but the cello and bass explosion which launches the trio was very good indeed, even at the notably quick tempo adopted; the extraordinary transition into the finale was superbly handled and the final movement itself, with its tonal palette fabulously broadened by the addition of three trombones, piccolo and contrabassoon, moved towards its conclusion with a tremendous sense of inevitability.
I have not kept count of the number of Beethoven Fives I have heard since taking up my notebook almost a quarter of a century ago, but I can say quite categorically that none have been finer than this.
And if anybody had been wondering just why the symphonies of Beethoven are still considered central to the orchestral repertoire, this concert certainly provided the answer.
Next year, I am told, it will be the turn of the Fourth and the Pastoral.
I can hardly wait.
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