CBSO
Symphony
Hall *****
The rampant joyousness of this wonderful concert was tinged
with a slight element of sadness, marking as it did the final appearance of
Ruth Lawrence, retiring after nearly 40 years of stalwart, unobtrusive service
among the first violins of the CBSO..
Kazuki Yamada, soon to become the orchestra’s Chief
Conductor and Artistic Adviser, paid her a charming, deeply-felt tribute – and then
launched into the most amazingly energetic and characterful account of Holst’s
Planets I have ever heard. There was driving force, drama and otherworldliness
in this reading, but also a remarkable discipline and balance from every member
of this huge ensemble.
Holst’s deeply researched astrological thumbnail portraits
of the deities naming the seven planets visible from the Earth at the time of
the work’s composition brought vivid results from this probing, enthusiastic
conductor and such a well-rehearsed and responsive orchestra, from the grim
horrors of Mars to the serene, glacial otherworldliness of Neptune, with every
movement between grippingly communicative.
Its performance brings massive visual spectacle, too, with
this phalanx of 100-plus players. The sight of the two timpanists in action
(how cleverly Holst gets every note of the scale out of them), was impressive
indeed, and it was fascinating to observe the varied articulations of the two
harpists. And particularly memorable was the sight of Yamada, always so choreographically
attuned to the music, galumphing through the orchestra during the penultimate
movement; this was Strictly Come Uranus.
Julian Wilkins’ CBSO Youth Chorus were magically ethereal
from the packed auditorium’s highest reaches as Neptune faded into oblivion. We
could scarcely make out when they actually ceased their wordless vocalising,
though one camera-happy audience member was too engrossed taking a picture of
the whole scene.
Such a performance could easily have stolen the thunder of
what preceded it, but such was Alexandre Kantorow’s account of Tchaikovsky’s rarely-heard
Second Piano Concerto that this will long live in the memory. Kantorow is a
pianist of immense strength and sturdy conviction, able to colour his sound even
when playing with full reserves of power. He can also make the quietest of passages
tell through the textures.
The concerto is a strange one, soloist and orchestra often
playing apart from each other, but when the score does demand collaboration,
the empathy here between soloist, conductor and orchestra was like a joyful
melding of ingredients in some gorgeous confection.
And the chamberlike slow movement was beyond heartstopping,
Kantorow joining concertmaster Eugene Tzikindelean and lead cellist Martin
Smith in a colloquy of the most beautiful inwardness. Anyone expecting the Emperor
Concerto, as this Tchaikovsky was designated in the shoddily proof-read
programme, would have found here a rapt interlude to match that in the
Beethoven work.
I put my hand up and agree that Kantorow’s encore here was
entirely appropriate. To all the punters who flattered my by assuming I would
instantly know what it was, I have found out from my spies that it was Valse
Triste by Jeno Vecsey, arranged for piano by his Hungarian compatriot Gyorgy
Cziffra.
Christopher Morley
ends