Don’t Hate Them Because They’re Popular
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

On Wednesday night, the white jackets came out, as the New York Philharmonic began its “Summertime Classics” series at Avery Fisher Hall. I should say that the white jackets were onstage, not in the audience.
The evening was dubbed “Moscow on the Hudson,” and, as you can guess, the program was all-Russian. We had the “Festive Overture” of Shostakovich, excerpts from “Romeo and Juliet” by Prokofiev, and the Piano Concerto No. 2 of Rachmaninoff. These are fantastic, ever-lovable pieces. There was once a shampoo commercial that went, “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.” Well, don’t hate these pieces because they’re popular.
There was never a piece so well named as the “Festive Overture.” It is just about the merriest, zippiest, thrillingest thing in the repertoire. It begins with a huge, pregnant fanfare, and if you’re from football country, you may think of “Band, take the field.”
Under the British maestro Bramwell Tovey — longtime leader of the Summertime Classics series — the Philharmonic played the overture admirably. Tempos were not absolutely steady, players were not absolutely together, and flubs were not entirely absent. But Shostakovich’s piece packed its punch.
I always call Mr. Tovey “your genial host,” and a genial host he was. In his remarks from the stage — extended remarks — he mentioned that the “Festive Overture” was the first piece he ever conducted. He was 15.
And I’d like to sneak in a record recommendation. If you can find Karel Ancerl conducting the Czech Philharmonic in the “Festive Overture,” buy it. You’ll wear the grooves off.
Prokofiev’s “Romeo and Juliet” is a ballet, and ideally you would have Nina Ananiashvili before you. But no ballet score can be enjoyed more than this one — enjoyed simply as music, without dancers. The Philharmonic played about five excerpts, which is a nice, if modest, package.
And the orchestra did many things well. There was color, incisiveness, and style. If you’re going to play “Romeo and Juliet” — or any Prokofiev — without style, forget it.
Also, Mr. Tovey specializes in what you might call a relaxed correctness (as opposed to an uptight one, I suppose).
But this was not an A-1 “Romeo and Juliet” performance. More rehearsal would have helped, no doubt. The orchestra was disunited, and some of the love music was heavy and clumsy. Moreover, the Philharmonic strings did not make their best sound, when they had the stage to themselves. That’s to put it mildly. An exception to this was Glenn Dicterow, the concertmaster, in his solo lines.
And the score could have used more drama, that aching drama that is natural to it.
Just as an aside, I have a question for you: Have you ever noticed that the wailing in “Tybalt’s Death” is far more Hebraic than Veronese? Both Prokofiev and Shostakovich wrote lots of Jewish music, as you know — it is seldom more pungent than here.
The soloist in Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto was Joyce Yang, a Korean-born Juilliard student in her early 20s. She made a splash at the 2005 Van Cliburn Competition without winning. And she is obviously a capable young lady.
The opening measures of the concerto were well calibrated. Some tricky, jazzy rhythm in the last movement was well handled. And Ms. Yang can play lyrically, even if the melodic line in the middle movement was somewhat jabbed at.
Overall, she has what we used to call “a good head on her shoulders.”
But Rachmaninoff’s Second Concerto is perhaps not Ms. Yang’s piece. Not every piece is for everybody, a fact often forgotten.
Ms. Yang simply did not show the sweep and command necessary for this piece. Even the mere volume was missing. The piano was strangely muted. This performance was curiously small-scale, retiring — almost Haydnesque.
I am all for trimming excess, believe me. And I am all for the squashing of bombast. But “Rach Two” needs energy, electricity, and a certain bigness. It needs a conqueror’s spirit. And Ms. Yang was not prepared to offer that, at least on this occasion.
She played an encore, and it was Liszt’s transcription of a Chopin song, “Meine Freuden.” She played it nicely. But this was an odd way to end an orchestra concert — especially a splashy one. With a soft, lovely piano song.
Oh, well. Mr. Tovey will be back at his microphone again soon. And he taught me something memorable on Wednesday night. He said that you can remember whether Juliet is a Capulet or a Montague by the fact that her name rhymes: “Juliet Capulet.” A neat device to store away.