Milton Court
Concert Hall
Divertimento in D major, KV
136/125a
Sinfonia concertante in
E-flat major, KV 364/320d
Symphony no.39 in E-flat
major, KV 543
Ruth Killius (viola)
Royal Northern Sinfonia
Thomas Zehetmair (conductor/violin)
A new chamber-size hall for
London as part of the Guildhall-Barbican complex: Milton Court Concert Hall –
which seems already to be abbreviated to Milton Court, though that strictly is
the name of a building including a theatre, a studio theatre, rehearsal rooms,
etc. – certainly showed its worth in this concert. The acoustic is bright,
warm, and detailed. Now if only London could finally get its act together and
build a decent large-scale hall… That, however sad and urgent the case, is,
though, an argument for another day.
Today’s concern is an
outstanding Mozart concert from the Royal Northern Sinfonia and Thomas
Zehetmair. It opened with the first of Mozart’s so-called ‘Salzburg symphonies’,
not actually reckoned as forming part of his listed symphonies, but rather a
divertimento for strings. From the very outset, the first movement, and indeed
the work as a whole, pulsated with life, Mozart seemingly as much in the
bloodstream of this country’s only full-time chamber orchestra as of the Salzburg-born
Zehetmair. Unfailingly stylish, apparently
straightforward, this performance, impelled by a proper sense of formal
dynamism, benefited from a clear sense of harmonic rhythm, the charm and
musical sense of antiphonally-seated violins, and a lively sense of
characterisation. Minor-mode excursions had a real sense of broaching new
territory. And with repeats taken, this
divertimento seemed anything but slight. The slow movement was warm, graceful,
again with a sense of ‘rightness’ to Zehetmair’s chosen tempo. Phrasing was
again unobtrusive but telling: no ‘period’ traffic-calmer bumps here. At least
as important, there was, even in a new City of London concert hall, a crucial
sense of the magical outdoor serenade of a Salzburg evening. I was put in mind
of Sandor Vegh’s work with the Camerata Academica Salzburg, and there can be
little higher praise than that. The finale was alert, witty, fresh: full of the
young Mozart’s joy to be alive, a joy already unmistakeably personal in style,
whatever its antecedents. Mozart’s counterpoint was conveyed with loving
sternness, his orchestral tricks – they ought to be Haydnesque, but they could
only be Mozart’s – despatched with loving flair.
Mozart-Divertimento K136 by gpollen
If that divertimento is a
sparkling, far from callow, early work, the Sinfonia concertante for violin and
viola is a towering masterpiece. Zehetmair was joined by his wife and regular
duo partner, Ruth Killius. Both turned towards and played with their respective
sections in the opening ritornello. The Sinfonia’s wind proved just as warm,
rounded, sparkling as its strings. Solo lines emerged from what had gone before
as the soloists turned toward the audience. (Zehetmair would turn back to
conduct when he was not playing.) There was a true experience of dialogue
between all the players, not just the soloists. Though there was plenty of
individual ‘character’ to the soloists’ performance, it seemed to be the
character of the instruments and Mozart’s writing for them, rather than the
product of externally applied – or mis-applied – ‘personality’. Oboes and horns
were equally brimming with Mozartian magic. Yet this was certainly not
prettified or manicured Mozart; beauty rather emerged through an eminently
human performance. Might I find a cavil? If pushed, I suppose there was not
much sense to be heard of the autumnal, but Mozart in springtime worked more
than well enough. The slow movement was taken quicker than once would have been
the case, but at no loss to its tragic songfulness; it still emerged as a son
of its counterpart in the E-flat piano concerto, KV 271. Killius’s viola tone
sounded, if anything still richer, Zehetmair’s perhaps less silken, more
golden. Violin and viola sang to each other as if operatic lovers. Certainly a
vital Mozartian erotic charge was present, whether in the tension of the
cadenza or elsewhere; so too was the unmistakeable quality of an orchestra smiling
through tears. The finale was bright, bushy-tailed, irresistible, and just as
full of musical energy as its predecessors. Indeed, it emerged as the miraculous
reconciler of the musical tendencies heard in them. We heard as an encore a duo
for violin and viola by Heinz Holliger, the second of his Three Sketches, expressly
intended as an encore to this work, viola scordatura and all. It benefited from
a similar questing, captivating energy.
At least as high, arguably
higher still, in the masterpiece stakes is the Symphony no.39. Though hardly a
Cinderella, it nevertheless occasionally seems a little overshadowed by the two
symphonies that follow. Indeed, I plead guilty, in a
recent programme note for a Salzburg concert in which the Berlin
Philharmonic and Simon Rattle played all three, to having slightly short-changed
it. There was no short-changing here, the first movement’s introduction imbued
with a grandeur often missing from chamber-orchestral performances. There was
already a quality of pulsating harmonic energy similar to that experienced
throughout the first half. If, in a somewhat superficial sense of sonority and
attack, Zehetmair’s performance might have sounded strikingly modern when
compared with recordings by Klemperer and Böhm, at a deeper level, there was much
in common, not least its inexorability, harmonic and motivic. And so, the
exposition proper emerged as an inevitable outcome of that introduction. One
thing I was less sure about was the agogic touches, not especially exaggerated,
and quite ear-catching in themselves; however, they worked less well, perhaps,
upon the repeat of the exposition and in the recapitulation, sounding both
unduly rehearsed and all too expected. Nevertheless, the concision of the
development section registered with due shock: the first movement of Beethoven’s
Fifth seems almost expansive by comparison. The woodwind sounded lovely,
perhaps especially so in the recapitulation, whose climax took one’s breath
away as it should. The slow movement I was a little less sure about. It says ‘Andante
con moto,’ I suppose, but
nevertheless sounded a little too much on the fast side, however sensitively
phrased. That said, I sensed a kinship with Schubert when he employed a similar
tempo marking, so the fault probably lay with this curmudgeon. The minor-key
eruption sounded properly furious; woodwind balm never quite rid our minds of
its shadow, which, in a turbulent reading, was doubtless Zehetmair’s point. In
context, the brusqueness of the conclusion made a good deal of sense. The
minuet was taken at one-to-a-bar with a vengeance, probably the fastest I have
heard. And yet, this minuet as scherzo seemed to work in practice, perhaps on
account of the security of Zehetmair’s harmonic understanding. The trio relaxed
slightly, offering delightful bubbling from the woodwind, even a small instance
of clarinet ornamentation. Whilst energetic, the finale did not mistake Allegro for Presto; it remained finely articulated and directed, with plenty of
room to breathe. Mozart’s helter-skelter twists and turns were followed and
communicated with dramatic flair. I was almost
convinced by the taking of the second repeat, blaring trumpets and all. It is
difficult to imagine any Mozartian resisting – and would anyone have tried?
