MiV Home
University Centre Auditorium
October 6, 2019
In a letter written in 1883, when he was still in his mid-twenties, Mr. (as he still was) Edward Elgar referred to Robert Schumann as "my ideal!"
I have always found it somewhat difficult to reconcile this adulation by a composer whose music I love (and then some) for a composer who, on the whole, I actually quite like.
But during the slow movement of Schumann's Symphony No.2 on Sunday afternoon, my mental clouds lifted and I finally, to coin a phrase, "saw the light". As my notebook will bear witness.
Giordano Bellincampi directed a superb account of the symphony which, in accordance with the unwritten law of Nineteenth Century music ("Thou shalt not number thy symphonies in any sensible sequence") was actually written third (or, if you want to include the early, incomplete, "Zwickauer" symphony, fourth).
In order to further detail some of the merits of the performance, I must first comment on the layout of the orchestra: first violins to the left, seconds to the right; cellos next to the firsts, violas next to the seconds, doublebasses arrayed behind the winds. For music of this era it is (almost) the perfect arrangement: my slight qualification being that I should have preferred the violas next to the firsts, so that their sound-holes were facing the audience, but perhaps Bellincampi felt that communications between seconds and violas, who provide the "inner" parts, would be best served by placing them adjacently. I am certainly not inclined to make a federal case out of this.
But what this arrangement did do, and do superbly, was to allow the antiphonal effects between first and second violins full reign and, perhaps even more importantly, permitted the lower strings to convey the full weight of their sound; indeed, the first annotation in my notebook is "weighty bottom end". Not every conductor seems to understand the importance of a firm foundation to the orchestral sound, but Bellincampi clearly does.
The work's slow introduction was pregnant with possibilities, with a resplendently full sound from the trumpets, horns and trombone and, as one expects from the Victoria Symphony, exceptional winds. The main part of the movement was full of rhythmic vitality, the development section clearly benefiting from the antiphonal violins and the whole was, as a Schumann first movement should be, all-enveloping.
The scherzo must be one of the dazzling Schumann things ever wrote and here the tempo was quick, but not overly so; I thoroughly enjoyed the bouncing first trio, even if its rhythm invariably reminds me, somewhat inappropriately, of "For he's a jolly good fellow", and the transition back to the scherzo proper was most deftly handled, before the movement closed with a superbly controlled accelerando and dramatic final chord.
The slow movement, during which I had my personal epiphany, opened with plangent strings, Michael Byrne's eloquent oboe, and excellent horns. The entire movement went by too quickly (this is not a criticism of the tempo, merely a personal desire for it to have lasted longer) and was, in a word, exquisite.
The finale's opening was arresting and very brisk, with some nicely pointed details in the wind and strings. The movement swept the listener along until the final coda where the sumptuous brass recall the work's very opening. Arguably Schumann had some difficulty in ending the work, but with a performance of this quality, I really could not bring myself to care.
Bellincampi conducted much of the music with minimal gestures — there were quite lengthy passages in the first movement during which he appeared simply to stand, hands together, swaying to the rhythm and occasionally, by means of a nod of the head, indicating accents and cues. (A neat demonstration of the trust between conductor and orchestra.) In the second movement his expressive hand gestures at times made it appear that he was tying a rope into knots, but the players clearly understood what he wanted and gave it.
In a word: outstanding.
"I should like to write a violin concerto for you next winter. One in E minor runs through my head, the beginning of which gives me no peace."
Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto is his last large-scale orchestral work and counts as "late" Mendelssohn, despite the fact that the composer was just thirty-six years old when it was premiered. It is indeed the one in E minor about which he wrote to Ferdinand David, his schoolfriend and later concertmaster of the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra, of which Mendelssohn was Principal Conductor, some seven years prior to its completion.
From the work's unusual opening (there is no bold orchestral tutti and the soloist makes his entry as early as the second bar), Stefan Jackiw demonstrated his total control of his instrument and deep affinity with the music. Bellincampi and the orchestra provided fine support in a movement which was, as with much of the Schumann, taken quickly but not excessively so: there is more than enough to enjoy in this concerto without any unnecessary virtuosic exhibitionism from the soloist. Alas, not all soloists are as tasteful in this context as Jackiw proved.
The second subject, with delicious clarinets and flute, brought a slowing of the tempo, but no drop in tension. Jackiw's concentration and control of the cadenza was mesmerising and his harmonics quite other-worldly. Throughout the movement excellent communications between soloist and conductor allowed for some fairly extreme rubato, which was very nicely handled.
I have always enjoyed Mendelssohn's tying together of the first two movements: the big final chord ends and, momentarily, it seems that silence reigns, until the ear adjusts and realises that the bassoon is still playing: I'm not sure I have ever heard it done quite as effectively as here.
The andante was taken at a smoothly flowing pace and Jackiw's violin sang throughout most engagingly.
The finale's slow introduction, with more gorgeous wind playing, led to a very nippy allegro in which Jackiw's marvellously clean articulation enhanced the music's essential playfulness.
As an encore, Jackiw played the largo from Bach's Violin Sonata No.3 BWV1005.
This was playing to reinforce one's view that Bach was surely the greatest composer who ever lived and, for its brief duration, one could indeed have heard the legendary pin drop.
While I do (or, at least, like to think that I do) understand the significance and influence of Carl Maria von Weber's music, I cannot say that any of it has ever really moved or excited me.
And despite the undeniable qualities of Sunday's performance of the overture to Der Freischütz — the clean opening chords, the excellent horns, the distinct air of mystery in the introduction and the dramatic and well-managed tempo shifts — my opinions remain unchanged.
The Weber was good, if still not to my taste; the Mendelssohn was superb, but the Schumann — the Schumann, verged on the revelatory.
MiV Home