VPO, 25/09/2018
Berwald : Symphony No. 3 "Singulière"
Dvorák : Symphony No. 7
Encore - Johann Strauss II : "Emperor" Waltz
Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra
Herbert Blomstadt
I cannot express how pleased I was to find that on the first occasion on which I was to experience the Vienna Philharmonic live, this was the programme. You know how it is when the great orchestras go on tour, they tend to concoct serious, not to say straight-laced programmes of mighty cultural weight, in which the three (and often four) B's feature significantly, not to mention Mahler. I am not saying anything against these pillars of the repertory, but they're not necessarily my favourite repertory, and what the VPO presented tonight was a most refreshing alternative.
Presumably it's Herbert Blomstedt's Swedish origins that prompted the choice of the Berwald symphony. Still a name that is heavily overshadowed by the likes of Mendelssohn and Schumann, Berwald had little success in his own lifetime, but is gathering an audience now, for the freshness and charm of his musical language. A hint of Mendelssohn, certainly, in the often very delicate orchestral textures, but Berwald likes to punctuate mischievously with a knock on the timps, or a blast from the horns, delivered crisply and with dry humour by Blomstedt and the orchestra. In three movements only, but with a significant Scherzo in the middle of the slow movement, the Symphonie singulière is now more or less Berwald's best-known work. It seems a great pity that the composer never got to hear it, for it was premiered almost forty years after Berwald's death.
After the break, something rather more familiar, in the form of Dvorák's 7th Symphony. Originally a commission for the London Philharmonic Society, this is also the most Brahmsian of Dvorák's symphonies, in which he voluntarily eschewed the more folkloric elements of his style (to which he would return) in favour of a more international style, but by this time, Dvorák's mastery of the orchestra was such that he could do so, and yet retain his own voice. This is a much denser texture than the Berwald, and there were times I felt Blomstedt was holding back the orchestra. They were playing in the Salle Henry Lebœuf, in the Palais des Beaux Arts in Brussels (colloquially known as the Bozar, locally), a superb Art Deco concert hall of moderate size and outstanding acoustics, the kind of venue in which you can hear everything from everywhere, and the famous Vienna horns were definitely playing with a degree of discretion I wouldn't expect from any horn section in this work, especially in the coda of the last movement. The overall result was a little less Dvorák, and a little more Brahms, than I usually prefer in this symphony, which is not to say that it was not a beautifully delivered and inspiring performance.
From the start of the evening, I had been eyeing the harp on stage. I knew perfectly well that there was no harp in either the Berwald or the Dvorák symphonies, which meant that there was going to be an encore, which necessarily involved that instrument. There was a good chance it would be a Strauss waltz, but even then, I didn't expect one of the very greatest, the Kaiser-Walzer, a 15-minute encore of truly imperial proportions. This was, in all probability, as close as I will ever get, live, to the Vienna New Year's Day concert, and I have to admit it swept aside any cynical thoughts I may have had about the authenticity of that venerable event.
Blomstedt himself is an economical conductor. I imagine he's the type who says all he has to say to the orchestra in rehearsal, and when it comes to the concert, especially with an ensemble of this quality, he no longer feels it necessary to repeat himself, and keeps his movements and gestures to an efficient minimum, a discreet reminder, rather than active direction. So in appearance, in the waltz, he seemed no more or less engaged than at any time previously this evening. However, the orchestra? The orchestra was waltzing. Not just in the playing, in the sweep of the strings, and the swoop of the horns, but in their very body language. I've long believed that before the New Year's Day concert, the players are given strict instructions to remain po-faced, they've always looked almost ridiculously business-like. Tonight, without the pressure of the cameras and the millions of viewers, there were little smiles here and there, a double-bass player swaying gently with his instrument, relaxed shoulders and easy positions, a joy to watch as well as to hear. This is what the Vienna Philharmonic does with Strauss, it's real, it's tangible, and it's an absolute delight. The photograph below was hastily snapped just before the entire hall was on its feet.
[Next : 26th September 2018]
Dvorák : Symphony No. 7
Encore - Johann Strauss II : "Emperor" Waltz
Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra
Herbert Blomstadt
I cannot express how pleased I was to find that on the first occasion on which I was to experience the Vienna Philharmonic live, this was the programme. You know how it is when the great orchestras go on tour, they tend to concoct serious, not to say straight-laced programmes of mighty cultural weight, in which the three (and often four) B's feature significantly, not to mention Mahler. I am not saying anything against these pillars of the repertory, but they're not necessarily my favourite repertory, and what the VPO presented tonight was a most refreshing alternative.
Presumably it's Herbert Blomstedt's Swedish origins that prompted the choice of the Berwald symphony. Still a name that is heavily overshadowed by the likes of Mendelssohn and Schumann, Berwald had little success in his own lifetime, but is gathering an audience now, for the freshness and charm of his musical language. A hint of Mendelssohn, certainly, in the often very delicate orchestral textures, but Berwald likes to punctuate mischievously with a knock on the timps, or a blast from the horns, delivered crisply and with dry humour by Blomstedt and the orchestra. In three movements only, but with a significant Scherzo in the middle of the slow movement, the Symphonie singulière is now more or less Berwald's best-known work. It seems a great pity that the composer never got to hear it, for it was premiered almost forty years after Berwald's death.
After the break, something rather more familiar, in the form of Dvorák's 7th Symphony. Originally a commission for the London Philharmonic Society, this is also the most Brahmsian of Dvorák's symphonies, in which he voluntarily eschewed the more folkloric elements of his style (to which he would return) in favour of a more international style, but by this time, Dvorák's mastery of the orchestra was such that he could do so, and yet retain his own voice. This is a much denser texture than the Berwald, and there were times I felt Blomstedt was holding back the orchestra. They were playing in the Salle Henry Lebœuf, in the Palais des Beaux Arts in Brussels (colloquially known as the Bozar, locally), a superb Art Deco concert hall of moderate size and outstanding acoustics, the kind of venue in which you can hear everything from everywhere, and the famous Vienna horns were definitely playing with a degree of discretion I wouldn't expect from any horn section in this work, especially in the coda of the last movement. The overall result was a little less Dvorák, and a little more Brahms, than I usually prefer in this symphony, which is not to say that it was not a beautifully delivered and inspiring performance.
From the start of the evening, I had been eyeing the harp on stage. I knew perfectly well that there was no harp in either the Berwald or the Dvorák symphonies, which meant that there was going to be an encore, which necessarily involved that instrument. There was a good chance it would be a Strauss waltz, but even then, I didn't expect one of the very greatest, the Kaiser-Walzer, a 15-minute encore of truly imperial proportions. This was, in all probability, as close as I will ever get, live, to the Vienna New Year's Day concert, and I have to admit it swept aside any cynical thoughts I may have had about the authenticity of that venerable event.
Blomstedt himself is an economical conductor. I imagine he's the type who says all he has to say to the orchestra in rehearsal, and when it comes to the concert, especially with an ensemble of this quality, he no longer feels it necessary to repeat himself, and keeps his movements and gestures to an efficient minimum, a discreet reminder, rather than active direction. So in appearance, in the waltz, he seemed no more or less engaged than at any time previously this evening. However, the orchestra? The orchestra was waltzing. Not just in the playing, in the sweep of the strings, and the swoop of the horns, but in their very body language. I've long believed that before the New Year's Day concert, the players are given strict instructions to remain po-faced, they've always looked almost ridiculously business-like. Tonight, without the pressure of the cameras and the millions of viewers, there were little smiles here and there, a double-bass player swaying gently with his instrument, relaxed shoulders and easy positions, a joy to watch as well as to hear. This is what the Vienna Philharmonic does with Strauss, it's real, it's tangible, and it's an absolute delight. The photograph below was hastily snapped just before the entire hall was on its feet.
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| Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra with Herbert Blomstedt Henry Lebœuf Salle, Brussels, 25 September 2018 (© the author, 2018) |
[Next : 26th September 2018]