Hall One, Kings Place
Anton Reicha – Overture in D
major
Mozart – Piano Concerto no.4 in
G major, KV 41Mozart – Piano Concerto no.3 in D major, KV 40
Schubert – Symphony no.2 in B-flat major, D 125
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| Rehearsal picture (Nick Rutter) |
Having greatly enjoyed the opening concert in the Aurora Orchestra’s five-year-long exploration of Mozart’s
piano concertos, and having had to miss, alas, the second, I greatly looked
forward to this, the third, in which the orchestra was joined by Robert Levin
for the third and fourth concertos. Expectations were certainly met so far as
the orchestra was concerned; likewise with respect to interesting programming. If
I had some reservations, and I should not wish to exaggerate them, they related
to Levin’s playing and conducting. His podium style, embodying a sort of gauche
would-be razzamatazz, would certainly not have been for everyone; nor was it
entirely clear to me what the punching in the air, the jumping and dancing actually
contributed to the orchestral playing. That playing nevertheless remained at a
high level throughout.
The concert opened with a
rarity, Anton Reicha’s Overture in D major. Its slow introduction sounded
promising indeed, reminiscent of other Bohemian Classical music, although
certainly not without its Italianate qualities (Rossini?) Were those echoes of
Weber too? It certainly all had the sense of a curtain-raiser, even though this
is a concert work. Alas, the interminable main body of the work had little of
interest beyond its bizarre quintuple meter; Tchaikovsky this was not. Like so
much other ‘minor’ music of the Classical era – I suppose it should be counted
as such, rather than ‘early Romantic’ – it chugged along, and it continued to
chug, and it… The performance was fresh, alert, seemingly giving the work every
chance it could. I doubt I shall be returning to Reicha’s piece, though; I feel
no more tempted to do so than I ever have been by his wind quintets.
Reicha had long been settled in
Paris when he composed his Overture. It was in Paris that Mozart’s two
concertos – or, if you prefer, the music of other composers to which the boy
added orchestral parts – were published, and it seems likely that much, at
least, of the ‘original’ music became familiar to the Mozarts during their
visit to the city in 1763-4. The order reversed for good programming reasons –
variation in orchestral forces and key – we heard no.4, in G major, first. Its
opening Allegro was lively, if
somewhat driven (a hallmark of Levin’s direction, it seems). Levin was
certainly unafraid to use a modern piano, but I was often left longing for rather
more variation; it was often all rather dogged, indeed heavy-handed. The
playing of the two flautists, Juliette Bausor and Emilia Zakrzewska, however,
proved a joy. A little more string vibrato, especially from the first violins,
would have been welcome in the Andante.
The finale was lively, any problems lying with the original material, which
perhaps might be characterised as vin
ordinaire. Levin’s cadenza – improvised, as his wont – was convincing,
well-proportioned, if again a little lacking in performative chiaroscuro.
The Third Piano Concerto
returned us to D major, oboes, trumpets, and drums replacing flutes. This
immediately sounded like D major in ‘effect’ as well as tonality. It was a
vigorous performance that we heard; again, at times, I wished the piano would calm
down a little, but the effort and reality of Levin’s cadenza was again much
appreciated. Might another director/conductor have made the Andante less four-square? Perhaps. But
there was no gainsaying the quality of the finale, originally the work of a
decidedly superior composer, CPE Bach. Here, the ‘surprises’ all worked. Every
musician in the orchestra was on excellent form; I especially relished contributions
from the horn players, Nicolas Fleury and Richard Stroud.
Schubert’s Second Symphony had
the second half to itself. Levin took the first movement very fast, perhaps too
fast, but the playing was excellent: as fresh, as alert as anything on the
programme. There was, moreover, no doubting the emergence of the second group
from the first: often easier said than done. I am not sure that taking the
exposition repeat was entirely justified, but anyway… Schubert’s stiffness of
form was especially apparent in the development; whereas a Colin Davis or a
Riccardo Muti can convince one otherwise, such was not to be the case from
Levin. The Andante was taken, as is
fashionable, at a swift tempo. All instruments, save for trumpets and drums,
were given ample opportunity to shine – and took it. A vigorous, unambiguously
one-to-a-bar minuet gave way nicely, necessarily to a significantly-relaxed
trio. In the finale, I missed the coherence that a great conductor can impart
to the music; it needs help. Nevertheless, the playing of the Aurora Orchestra
musicians offered a great deal in compensation.
