Cadogan Hall
Sinfonia concertante, for violin and
viola, KV 364
Symphony no.41 in C major, KV 551,
‘Jupiter’
Andrew Haveron (violin)
Andriy Viytovych
(viola)
Arensky Chamber Orchestra
William Kunhardt (conductor).
This was the final instalment of a
three-concert series, Revolutionaries of
Vienna, from the Arensky Chamber Orchestra. Unfortunately, I was unable to
attend the previous two concerts, devoted to Beethoven and Haydn, but was keen
to hear whether Mozart would receive his due, which in large part he did.
Regular readers, should I have any, will be aware that there is no composer
about whom I am touchier or more exacting – delete according to taste – than Mozart,
so that is no mean praise, especially for so young an orchestra.
Or perhaps not, for I was encouraged to
think that maybe what used to be called the 'green shoots of recovery '– none of
us today even thinks those exist economically – might be seen in the battle
against the monstrous regiments of authenticity. Maybe it is actually the case
that the absurd zealotry of the Leonhardts, Hogwoods, Norringtons, et al., will die with them. Certainly
this performance of the Sinfonia concertante for violin and viola suggested
that there were still musicians who were willing to treat Mozart as music,
rather than as some preposterous parody of a pseudo-archaeological exercise.
Conductor William Kunhardt’s tempi were well chosen, seemingly dictated, or
rather suggested, by the music, instead of imposed upon it. There will always
be different options one might follow, or let us at least hope so, but even if
the slow movement were less ‘slow’ than one once might have expected, it flowed
rather than being harried – and the closing bars displayed an alert ear for
Mozart’s ineffable sense of tragedy. (The relationship between E-flat major and
C minor in Mozart is always powerful; consider, for instance, the ninth piano
concerto or the twenty-third.) From the opening bars of the first movement, the
orchestra showed itself alert, sprightly, and yet always, crucially, warm in timbre.
Soloists Andrew Haveron and Andriy Viytovych complemented each other and the
orchestra with excellence. The richness of Viytovych’s tone and the sweetness
of that of Haveron again took one back to an age that respected Mozart enough
never to make him sound remotely unpleasant. (However is it the case that we
have reached a situation in which it has become almost de rigueur?) And there was a fine sense of fun, not at least in the
finale, whose progress was shaped by an excellent command of line from all
concerned. As a welcome encore, we were treated to the slow movement of the
second duo for violin and viola, KV 424, deceptive in its apparent simplicity.
I was a little less enamoured with the
performance of the Jupiter Symphony,
though my reservations were principally restricted to the first movement. Here
I wondered, despite undoubtedly committed playing from the ACO, whether there remained
a few spectres of ‘authenticity’ to be banished. It seemed unsmiling, driven,
unwilling to relax even for the second subject. Moreover, there was a certain
astringency to violin tone such as had never surfaced in the first half. Here,
and not only here, the kettledrums were more prominent than they might have
been, very much in the fashion nowadays favoured. Nevertheless, the slow
movement flowed in a good sense. Again, one might have wished for a more
relaxed approach – though I can imagine that many, by the same token, would not
– but there were splendid details revealed along the way, especially from a
fine woodwind section. Though taken one-to-a-bar, there was nevertheless plenty
of welcome give-and-take in the minuet, orchestral musicians clearly listening
to each other as estimable chamber musicians. The miracles of the finale will
never pall; repeats were taken, for which one felt not the slightest regret.
