STIRRING ELGAR CONCERTO FROM THE CBSO LEADER
CBSO at Symphony Hall ★★★★
Elgar’s Violin Concerto has provided almost as many opportunities for pointless speculation as his ‘Enigma’ Variations. Who is referred to in the work’s inscription, “Herein is enshrined the soul of...”? Is it someone codenamed “Windflower” after whom several of the work’s themes are named? Is it Alice Stuart-Wortley, daughter of the painter John Everett Millais? Is it Helen Weaver, or Elgar’s mother or possibly his wife? Who cares? Elgar himself told us all we need to know about the work when he said of it: “It's good! Awfully emotional! Too emotional, but I love it.” So would any unprejudiced listener after hearing this performance played with such tenderness, fierce concentration and passion by the CBSO’s leader Eugene Tzikindelean and backed to the hilt by the orchestra conducted by Kazuki Yamada.
In the opening bars soloist and orchestra captured the mysterious haunting quality of the initial theme that recurs throughout the concerto. This performance made me realize that the concerto resembles an extended act of memory-in-music with the soloist prompting and the orchestra – with a collective “Ah yes, now I remember..” – developing, elaborating and collaborating on this epic remembrance of things past. The Andante is so tender and beautiful that it has been dismissed as misty-eyed nostalgia by detractors but it’s much more than that. Tzikindelean, persuasive and never indulgent, with elegant contributions from the CBSO wind players and gorgeous string playing, made it memorable. The Allegro molto was a mix of ice and fire. Tzikindelean, like the great Heifetz, offers a deadpan face and minimal gestures, hiding the immense energy the soloist’s role demands here with a taxing cadenza to crown his efforts. Yamada, in constant motion like the Duracell bunny, elicited fine playing from the CBSO – the cadenza accompaniment, some fiddles and violas played balalaika-style, thrummed delightfully. After multiple ovations Tzikindelean returned to the music stand and the audience hushed, anticipating an encore. After his herculean efforts he smiled, shook his head, kissed the score and walked off. Gesture appreciated, cue more applause.
After that Walton’s Symphony No.2 was an anti-climax, it’s no match for his thrilling first. There are some interesting passages like the shimmering opening presaging something revelatory and the central section of the Lento assai, strange and creepy as if Banquo’s ghost had come to dinner, the mood broken by shattering timpani. Yamada drove the symphony on and the CBSO brass and percussion were ferocious. Composing wasn’t easy for Walton, it was like squeezing toothpaste from the last millimetres of the tube, and in this symphony he ran out of ideas – lots of musical gestures, little substance. The ‘Orb & Sceptre’ march, composed for Queen Elizabeth II’s 1953 coronation, was Walton at his energetic light-music best, rousing, raucous and occasionally vulgar but good fun.
N.B. To whoever is responsible: please, please (please x 10²) stop these meandering, tiresome, tedious Yamada addresses to the audience. This one involved him interviewing CBSO player Amy Thomas. Yamada: “Do you like English music?” Thomas: “Yes”. Yamada (I translate his gestures into words) “What is the orchestra’s best section?” Thomas: “The violas.” She’s a viola player. Those were the highlights.
Norman Stinchcombe