Concert Of Canons

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The New York Sun

The Philadelphia Orchestra traveled to its home away from home Tuesday night: Carnegie Hall. It brought its music director, Christoph Eschenbach, and a marquee soloist: André Watts.The program consisted of a canonical piano concerto and a canonical symphony. These pieces are not in the canon by accident.

The evening began with the concerto, Brahms’s Second in B-flat major. Frankly, I had wondered whether Mr. Watts would be able to tackle the piece. In recent years, he has not been in his best shape, with the old fluidity of technique. He has seemed constricted at the keyboard.At least that has been my experience with him. But for the Brahms, he was in good shape — certainly good enough shape.

In the opening pages, he was both commanding and elegant. He continued the first movement with big, bold, Romantic playing. It was not very subtle or clean playing, however.Often, Mr. Watts was on the verge of overpedaling, and sometimes he did so. And he has the strange habit of stomping his feet, which is not very attractive, or helpful to the music.

As for the orchestra, under Mr. Eschenbach, it was both brawny and lush, as befits the score. In all, Brahms’s first movement was noble, stirring, and even exciting. I trust you’ll know what I mean when I say the following: It was good to know that you could hear this extremely familiar music, once again.

The second movement — Allegro appassionato — began most unfortunately.Mr. Watts hadn’t really decided on a tempo, and he played tentatively. Later, he slapped at notes, vulgarly, as he had not in the first movement. He also toyed with the rhythm more than was wise.And his pedaling was so heavy, he sometimes created muddle rather than music (to borrow an infamous phrase). (This was the phrase with which Soviet authorities condemned a Shostakovich opera.)

The orchestra displayed far less intensity in this second movement than it had in the first, which was odd, because the second movement is, on balance, more intense. Tempos were harmfully elastic. And — to cap this off — Mr. Watts did some very ill-advised rushing at the end.

What about the wonderful slow movement, with its solo cello? Well, the cellist was a familiar one to New Yorkers: Hai-Ye Ni, late of the New York Philharmonic. She had been second chair, next to Carter Brey. Both cities are lucky, to have such fine cello principals. Ms. Ni played her Brahms part with her accustomed beauty and musicality.

But this movement on the whole was far too slow, and, worse, disjointed — a segmented, mushy blob (sometimes beautiful).

The final movement went much better, beginning with a nice transition by Mr. Eschenbach from the Andante. Mr. Watts bubbled along at a smart, relaxed tempo.And Mr. Eschenbach, with the orchestra, showed real Austro-Hungarian panache. Yet Mr. Watts committed some more vulgarity — some more slapping — and could not refrain from foot-stomping.

If he would only tighten up, and clean up, he would be an overpowering virtuoso. As it is, he is damn good, a lion of the piano, still roaring.

The symphony after intermission was Tchaikovsky’s Sixth, known as the “Pathétique.” Perhaps you have heard that this work is for saps; you have been badly misled.

Mr. Eschenbach knows the value of the “Pathétique,” and he conducted it with admirable commitment and heart. But some of his phrasing was awkward and mannered. Also, his tempo in the first movement was rather pokey. And his players made more mistakes than is characteristic of them. They were less the Fabulous Philadelphians than the Okay Philadelphians.

Tchaikovsky’s second movement is a waltz, and, in this account, it was thicker and less swirling than you might have liked. But Mr. Eschenbach judged it adequately.Too bad the closing pizzicatos were a wreck.

The third movement, of course, is a pulsing, thrilling march, and Mr. Eschenbach was all coiled up for it. I have frequently spoken of this “coiled” quality of his. The march appreciated his vigor, even aggression. But it could have used a touch more style, or flair.

As for the Finale — laden with tragedy — Mr. Eschenbach breathed well in it.The music did not have its full effect — its full, devastating, draining effect — but it was certainly not without impact. Tchaikovsky knew what he was doing.

After the movement ended, the audience began to applaud. But Mr. Eschenbach kept his hands in the air, fending them off. So the audience had to stop, then start again. Mr. Eschenbach has been guilty of this before, and it is a maddening affectation. If the audience is so moved or stunned it can’t applaud, it won’t.You should not manufacture silence from the podium. Mr. Eschenbach, with his experience and wisdom, ought to know this.


The New York Sun

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