The Multicolored And the Macabre
It does not happen often, but occasionally the best living conductor ends up leading the world's greatest orchestra. On Monday evening, Latvian maestro Mariss Jansons brought his Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra to Carnegie Hall to demonstrate this rare perfecta.
Although relatively new for a European orchestra, the Concertgebouw has set a high standard since the early days of the last century under Willem Mengelberg. In this French program, they immediately established their impressive qualifications.
First up was "La Mer," which was presented lovingly. The aggregate sound of this ensemble is superb; I detected not a single wrong note the entire evening. Mr. Jansons has emphasized precision; starts and stops were always arrestingly clean. The conductor has a splendid platform technique, switching from baton to open hand as he encourages his forces to soften a note or chord. Particularly kaleidoscopic was the "Play of the Waves" section, fecund and gorgeous. Quite simply, no American orchestra, at least at present, can play this way.
It is difficult to perform "Symphonie fantastique" by Hector Berlioz satisfactorily from beginning to end. No one recording consistently captures its piebald descriptive moods. Either the first and third movements are sensitively played but the ball scene is slow-footed, or the early movements are clumsy and the fourth and fifth are tremendously exciting, or — as in the old Boulez LP version — the waltz is flawless, importunate, even a bit intimidating, but the remainder of the piece is somewhat pallid. Listeners are still waiting for the performance that captures all of the colors of its complex emotional palette.
The ball scene was this current rendition's weakest point. Although graceful and pretty, it never achieved an infectious flow, never ascended to the febrile, never exhibited even a hint of the sinister. Had it been a stand-alone piece, it would have been a lovely waltz, but in context it was somewhat monochromatic. But the remainder of this multicolored work was exceptionally executed.
The "Scene in the Country" can sometimes seem a bit long, but in Mr. Jansons's hands it was timeless. He has a great ear for color, and emphasized the offstage effects of the tympani for maximum impact. Speaking of offstage doings, the employment of rung bells instead of struck chimes in the "Witches' Sabbath" was illuminating, the composer going for pitches not tuned to A440 and not meant to blend in nicely with the music. This quarter-tonal simulation emphasized the macabre expertly.
Berlioz was a great orchestrator, and many consider him the greatest. So modern orchestras are at a disadvantage when presenting such pieces as the "March to the Scaffold." Gone are the ophicleide, which gave the original score such a haunting bottom. Also missing are the military side drums with loose, or even no, snares. But for a contemporary version, this performance was sonorously spectacular. There aren't too many opportunities to praise the tuba player, but he was eloquently insistent this night.
Jansons being Jansons, there were wonderful encores. Having spent years in Oslo, Maestro is especially conversant with the music of Edvard Grieg, and led this night an exquisitely heartbreaking section from "Peer Gynt." More Berlioz — a spirited run-through of the "Rakoczy March" from his "Damnation of Faust" — ended the program. And not too many people left or put their coats on, instead urging yet another dessert from the never-ending pastry cart. But Mariss Jansons knows to leave them always wanting more and, with two additional evenings on the horizon, he took his concertmaster's hand and went home happy. So did we all.
