RSNO, 08/06/2024
Bacewicz : Overture for Orchestra
Saint-Saëns : Piano Concerto No. 5 "The Egyptian" (Simon Trpčeski, piano)
Lutosławski : Symphony No. 3
Ravel : Boléro
Royal Scottish National Orchestra
Thomas Søndergård
The RSNO has been covering quite a bit of Polish music over the last season, and here were two more examples, paired with two French classics and beginning with the plainly-named Overture by Grażyna Bacewicz. This was written in 1943, and given the conditions, was not actually heard until after the war, in 1946. It's bold and bright, with a lot of frenetic activity in the strings underpinning muscular statements from the brass and wind, and with a softer, if brief, central section. It doesn't have the edge to be called defiant, not in the way Shostakovich does, but it is confident in the face of adversity.
Ten years ago, when I first heard the Saint-Saëns "Egyptian" concerto live in concert, I said that of his five concertos, only the second and third were really heard with any regularity these days, while the fifth had once also been very popular. It has regained that popularity, I hear it (or parts of it) frequently on the radio now, but it is still a daunting prospect for any pianist. Simon Trpčeski had given us a delightful 2nd concerto back in February, and I was looking forward to this return visit. Alas, something went seriously wrong with the balance between piano and orchestra here. Saint-Saëns wrote very carefully; given a piano texture which is surprisingly diaphanous given its virtuosity, he was really quite careful not to swamp the soloist, yet Trpčeski was frequently overwhelmed. This was a pity because his tone quality, when heard, was lovely. The exotic second movement was somewhat episodic, not quite cohesive enough, but the last was delightful, and clearly the one Trpčeski himself enjoys the most. He was positively bouncing on his stool in the rare moments when he wasn't having to play, the motoring rhythms of an engine - whether steam-paddle or locomotive is up to your imagination - powerfully conveyed, and the whole twinkling with excitement. As in February, Trpčeski offered highly original encores; the first was an exquisitely poised reading of the slow movement of Poulenc's Flute Sonata, with RSNO Principal Flute Katherine Bryan, while the second was a teaser for the afternoon concert of Macedonian folk music planned for the next afternoon.
Lutosławski's Third Symphony was created in 1983, and although the composer insisted that the piece was purely abstract, it's almost impossible to believe that the circumstances around its composition had had no impact on its author. This was the period in which Poland lived under martial law, imposed as a defence against the rise of the anti-Communist trade union Solidarity. The symphony was created in America, just a couple of months after martial law was lifted. It is interesting to note what the piece shares with the Bacewicz Overture heard at the start of the evening; both are driven by the same motivic cell, a four-note rhythmic pattern that takes the form of the Morse code for the letter V, dot-dot-dot-dash (curiously, but coincidentally, the same as that which opens Beethoven's Symphony No. 5). Lutosławski also frequently has a similarly frenetic energy in the strings, restless movement that seems to circle around itself unceasingly. There, however, the resemblance ends; where Bacewicz's Overture exudes optimism and expectation, Lutosławski's symphony is tense and anxious. The 'V" motif intrudes repeatedly and aggressively to break up anything that might be developing in the other sections, until at the end it takes over completely. The patches of nervous activity occupy section after section in differing ways, and with different sonorities. In the end, the effect is like a textural collage, layers of contrasting or complementary materials, silk-chiffon gauziness, Fair Isle lace delicacy, robust twill strength, oppressive velvet density. The feeling of wanting to touch this music, to sense it materially, is very powerful.
The concert concluded with Ravel's most famous work (which aggravated him considerably), Boléro. He meant it as a sort of joke, but there's little denying its impact, whether in concert, or on stage as the ballet it was originally intended to be. Most staged versions are now usually of Maurice Béjart's hypnotically sensuous choreography, which is in one sense completely faithful to the original concept, and yet wholly Béjart's own. In concert, though, it's as fascinating to watch as most Ravel usually is, his meticulously planned and detailed orchestrations visually absorbing in a way few other composers' are. Søndergård led a very measured performance, tightly controlled from start to finish. I felt he kept that all-important snare drum down a little too much; after the opening, it was very nearly inaudible up until about the seventh iteration. However, the winds of the orchestra were at their expressive best, and in the end, much of Boléro rests in their hands, which proved highly capable.
[Next: 30th June]
