Grote Zaal,
Concertgebouw
Violin Concerto in D major,
op.77
Symphony no.2 in D major,
op.73
Janine Jansen (violin)
Chamber Orchestra of Europe
Bernard Haitink (conductor)
Two of Brahms’s greatest
works in very fine performances in the Concertgebouw: a perfect choice for one
of the hall’s 125th anniversary ‘jubilee concerts’. Without being
oppressively nationalistic – the Chamber Orchestra of Europe is, after all, by
its very nature anything but – it could reasonably be seen as a matter of Dutch
pride too: hall, conductor, and soloist representing the very best of the
Netherlands’ cultural life.
Bernard Haitink, Janine
Jansen, and the COE certainly made for a fine team in the Violin Concerto.
There was little loss in what might have been thought the ‘restriction’ of
chamber-size Brahms. For one thing, the orchestra throughout played with great
fullness of sound and no preposterous scaling down, let alone elimination, of
vibrato. That is, the size of orchestra – Meiningen or otherwise – was not the
point; this was simply a manifestation of great musicianship. A translucency
one would associate with the orchestra’s founder, Claudio Abbado, remained, but
there were few occasions when anyone would reasonably have protested at a lack
of body. The hushed moments, for instance, following Jansen’s exemplary account
of the first movement cadenza, truly drew one in to listen with great intent,
but that was not at the cost of due vehemence – minor mode passages in
particular – elsewhere. Haitink’s command of the music’s ebb and flow, above
all its harmonic rhythm, was enough to make a Schenkerian out of the most
hardened Schoenbergian. Not that there was no sense of developing variation,
either here or in the two following movements, but the work emerged as a ‘classic’
in a newly-minted yet time-honoured sense rather than a harbinger of what the
twentieth century would bring. Jansen’s intonation was well-nigh perfect
throughout, her tone perfectly centred, and her dynamic palette impressively
varied without there being a sense of undue exaggeration. So much did her
performance seem to emerge out of the capabilities of her instrument – and of
course her artistry – that this seemed to be a concerto ‘for’ rather than ‘against’
the violin. The slow movement was songful, glorious in its evocation of
Mozartian Harmoniemusik; it was not
only the principal oboe who deserved special mention; so did the entire
section, a veritable collection of serenaders. Jansen’s interaction with them
was as first among equals rather than star soloist, expertly guided with a
light yet firm touch by Haitink. The finale emerged with an utterly convincing
balance between ‘Hungarian’ virtuosity – never for its own sake – and ‘German’ Urlinie. I could not find fault with a
single aspect of this performance; nor should I wish to try.
The Second Symphony received
almost as fine a performance, my sole reservation concerning the finale. Once
again the COE’s playing was beyond praise, even though here there were times
when one might have wished for a larger band. (Not so many of them, though, I
have to admit.) All-too-easy summations of this as the ‘sunniest’ of Brahms’s
works sounded as irrelevant as they are. Deeper undercurrents, again founded in
Haitink’s harmonic understanding, were given their due: again permitted to
emerge with an art that concealed art, apparently ‘natural’, rather than
underlined. Indeed, the weight of the first movement registered to an extent
such as one rarely hears, the exposition repeat fundamental to the musical
conception rather than a formalistic nod. There are arguments either way, of
course; the question is what works in any particular case. The special
character of the inner movements was keenly observed. Once again, Brahms’s
Viennese predecessors came to mind, and more importantly to the heart’s
perception. Mozart and Schubert, rather than the first movement’s Beethoven,
were very much present: benevolent, inspiring ghosts. The finale, however, I
could not quite come to terms with. It was fast, indeed faster than I can ever
recall hearing. Crotchets per minute are neither here nor there, but Haitink,
as in some of his recent Beethoven, seemed intent on driving too hard. I can
understand the desire to rid Brahms of ‘autumnal’ clichés, just as much as
those of ‘summer’, but this music does not lose its true excitement if it is
given time to breathe. There was much to admire, and the playing of the COE
continued to impress greatly, but it did not – to me at least – seem a reading
quite in the spirit of what had gone before.
