Bringing Humanity To Beethoven

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The New York Sun

For my money, one of the best nights of the 2006–07 season was Saturday, April 14. On that night, Lisa Batiashvili, the violinist from former Soviet Georgia, played Shostakovich’s Concerto No. 1, with the New York Philharmonic. Conducting was Sakari Oramo, the formidable Finn. Everything clicked, everything found the mark. It was the kind of performance that gets under your skin. Of course, Shostakovich had a lot to do with this, but so did Ms. Batiashvili.

She returned to the Philharmonic on Wednesday night to play a different concerto: the Beethoven. This is one of the best pieces in Beethoven’s considerable oeuvre: He takes a few motives and goes to town (to put it rather too lightly). Beginning this concerto is not the violinist but the orchestra — and Lorin Maazel, on the podium, was in fine form. His conducting of the opening was a combination of strength and beauty. That, of course, is Beethoven’s combination as well. Mr. Maazel was fundamentally Classical, in the first movement and throughout the concerto; but he was not closed to Romanticism. That, again, is like Beethoven. And Mr. Maazel was particularly admirable in his rhythm: He was exact and stirring; and the rests meant as much as the notes.

Often, this conductor will make you hear things in a familiar score that you had never quite noticed before. And that happened here. In my own case, I heard a tune in the woodwinds, at some point in the first movement. Where had that come from?

When she came in, Ms. Batiashvili was not shy about rubato — that is, about license with time. But neither was she stupid about it. She was unhurried in the first movement, and you could almost say languid. But she did not lapse into soup. And Mr. Maazel followed her faithfully. Ms. Batiashvili made some technical slips, as she would in the other movements as well. But these were overridden by a clear musicality. It was important that she did not try to force anything in the first movement, did not try to bull her way through it. She let her instrument speak naturally; and she knew when to let Beethoven’s strength be quiet, even inner.

One word about technique: This violinist’s trills were notably controlled and mature. And the first movement’s cadenza — fashioned by Schnittke — was a powerhouse, almost symphonic. All of the many lines came through. And when the melody returned, post-cadenza, Ms. Batiashvili played with a simplicity that was exactly right.

Simplicity is a primary ingredient of the second movement, Larghetto, too. The music should merely unfold. And yet, here, Ms. Batiashvili did just a little forcing, making matters bigger than they needed to be. Also, this movement was too stretched out — in fact, too slow. The “etto” in “Larghetto” seemed to be dropped in favor of “Largo” itself. And yet Ms. Batiashvili, and Beethoven, still made sense.

And the final movement, that wonderful rondo, had all the zip and style we want. In her cadenza — Schnittke again — Ms. Batiashvili was both dazzling and winsome. And she played the final measures of the concerto with a matter-of-factness that was simply perfect. A few years ago, I learned a phrase from Jerome Rose, a pianist and teacher in this city. He said, “You play who you are.” This can be applied to a number of departments of life. And from Lisa Batiashvili, I believe, a humanity — some kind of goodness, sincerity, or nobility of intent — comes through.

The concert had begun with a curious little piece: Luciano Berio’s treatment of Luigi Boccherini’s “Ritirata notturna di Madrid.” Boccherini was an 18th-century Italian composer, and Berio was a 20th-century one. New Yorkers heard this piece toward the end of last season, when Esa-Pekka Salonen, conducting his Los Angeles Philharmonic, used it as an encore. The first measures may remind you of Ravel’s “Boléro,” with its snare-drum guide. And, like “Boléro,” in fact, the Boccherini-Berio piece should be precise and arresting — maybe not as erotic. (Definitely not as erotic.) Mr. Maazel and the Philharmonic did well. And the program ended with Tchaikovsky – his Symphony No. 2 in C minor, nicknamed “Little Russian.” (“Little Russia” refers to Ukraine.) Next week, the Philharmonic begins its Tchaikovsky festival: “The Tchaikovsky Experience.” So this might have been thought of as a preview.

Lorin Maazel has pronounced views on Tchaikovsky, and they are, in my opinion, right ones. In a recent interview, he said that the composer has been undermined by dippy, dopey interpreters (if I may paraphrase). Vulgarities do not occur in Tchaikovsky, he said; they occur in Tchaikovsky performers. “Tchaikovsky was a Classical composer, basically,” writing “with nobility, with restraint, with delicacy.” If you treat him right, he emerges “pure, pristine, and very noble.”

Mr. Maazel conducted the “Little Russian” just that way. His performance was intense, clean, stylish, and rigorous. The second movement — which I have always considered kind of a toy march – was a special delight. And the third movement, the Scherzo, built excitingly. As for the Finale, it was utterly bracing, with Mr. Maazel injecting just a little of his trademark jazz. I feel certain that this performance will prove one of the best of the season, ending many months from now, in June.

And speaking of outstanding performances: Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 2 can sometimes resemble a horn concerto — and the Philharmonic’s principal, Philip Myers, had a very, very good night. Let me close by telling you — probably re-telling you — one of my favorite stories concerning Tchaikovsky (and concerning music, for that matter). It was in the late 1990s, I believe, and Kurt Masur was on the podium, conducting the New York Philharmonic in this same Tchaikovsky symphony. A fellow critic of mine didn’t care for the performance, considering it too Classical, too stern — too Beethoven-like. I made a suggestion:”Maybe this was Tchaikovsky for people who don’t like Tchaikovsky.” And he said, standing in the aisle, with a loud and defiant voice, “Anybody who doesn’t like Tchaikovsky is an [expletive].”

I can’t say I disagree. Do you?


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