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University Centre Auditorium
April 21, 2024
There appears to have been an unwritten commandment for composers in the nineteenth century, which we might summarise as "Thou shalt not number thy works in the order of their composition".
Examples are legion: Beethoven composed his Piano Concerto No.1 after No.2, as did Chopin; Schumann's Symphony No.4 was composed between No.1 and No.3; Mendelssohn composed his Symphony No.5 between No.1 and No.4, which was, in its turn, followed by No.2; Schubert foxed everybody by starting and not finishing several symphonies and not even bothering (or perhaps forgetting) to compose his Symphony No.7. This was not immediately realised, leading to the unique situation of the "Great C major" having been dubbed No.7, then No.9 and more recently No.8. (We await further developments with baited breath.)
But the "sequencing" champion must surely be Antonín Dvořák who, not satisfied with the confusion caused by the simple stratagem of failing to have his first four symphonies published during his lifetime, compounded the issue brilliantly by publishing his next three out of order: No.6 then No.7 then No.5. For years when this writer was young, recordings of Dvořák's later symphonies would have two numbers: the "proper" one followed by the parenthesised original publication number.
Thus, when I was growing up, Dvořák's symphonic cycle consisted of: No.1, No.2, No.3, No.4, No.5 (3), No.6 (1), No.7 (2), No.8 (4) and No.9 (5).
Which explains why, in a letter to Dvořák after conducting the first performance of the Symphony No.8 in G, Op.88, B.163 in Vienna, Hans Richter wrote "Brahms dined with me after the performance and we drank the health of the unfortunately absent father of No.4". (I should perhaps explain the B.163, which is the number the symphony has in Jarmil Burghauser's catalogue of Dvořák's works, necessitated because it is not only the symphonies which were published out of order.)
I suspect that music critics are not expected to "play favourites" with the repertoire they are reviewing, but I cannot help but observe that while the Seventh is widely considered to be Dvořák's greatest symphony (I would tend to agree) and the Ninth (the "New World") is undoubtedly his most popular it is the Eighth to which I turn the most frequently; indeed, of all his works, this is the one which I can honestly claim to adore, for all of its structural shortcomings.
I was, therefore, delighted to see that the Greater Victoria Youth Orchestra and Music Director Yariv Aloni intended to close their current season with this wonderful symphony. And determined that nothing would keep me away from the performance.
Nor was I disappointed, although, to be fair, I cannot recall ever being disappointed by a GVYO concert in — I note with no little surprise — over thirty years.
From the singing opening to the tumultuous close, Aloni never put a foot wrong, pacing the music to perfection. And, while it would have been nice had there been more strings, their relative lack of weight also had its up side, especially in the opening movement, where there was some lovely wind detail which I had never heard so clearly before.
Any cracks in the structure were excellently papered over and the ripple of applause which greeted the movement's close was well-deserved.
The slow movement opened with excellent strings and featured some quite delectable wind playing. The big climax was most impressively done.
The third movement is more Brahmsian intermezzo than scherzo and was gently dancing; the transitions into and back from the lilting trio were smoothly managed. The final bars, with their surprising change of metre and sudden end, were excellent.
Stirring trumpets introduce the finale, which provided considerable excitement, especially as even at his most bombastic, Dvořák cannot help but be charming.
Aloni piled on the pressure until the very end, closing a performance which not only both delighted and excited, but was also rather moving in a way which I had not expected and, indeed, is quite rare in performances of this work.
A fitting end to the season.
Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov's Overture on Russian Themes, Op.28 dates from 1866. There are — quite apart from the use of a theme more familiar from the 1812 Overture — clear similarities with Tchaikovsky in the orchestration, yet, in other places, particularly one passage of shimmering strings, a distinct foreshadowing of the early ballets of Stravinsky, who was, of course, a pupil.
Aloni directed a rousing performance of the overture, in which all sections of the orchestra gave of their best.
The afternoon opened with the overture to Felix Mendelssohn's oratorio St. Paul
The sonorous opening — lower strings, clarinet, bassoon and tuba — presaged a fine performance, with commendably full sound in the tuttis, although it must be admitted that intonation was not immaculate at all times.
Nevertheless, this was a fresh and lively performance and, above all, enjoyable.
A most rewarding afternoon. Bravo to all concerned.
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