Royal Festival Hall
Schumann
– Violin Concerto in D minor, WoO 23
Bruckner
– Symphony no.8 in C major
The
Schumann Violin Concerto remains a problematical work. Too good to discard, not
quite coherent enough ever – yet? – entirely to convince, it hovers on the edge
of the repertoire. Renaud Capuçon, the LPO, and Jukka-Pekka Saraste made a very
good case for it. The opening orchestral tutti
sounded properly symphonic – Schumann-symphonic, that is, with various hints of
the composer’s symphonies. And when Capuçon entered, we were treated to a
performance that was not only sweet-toned, but which clearly knew where the
work was going, insofar as that be possible. Indeed, whilst remaining
characteristic, this was a solo performance that nudged the work closer to
Brahms, no bad thing at all, especially for a violin concerto. There were times
when Saraste seemed a little too much the mere ‘accompanist’: partly a
consequence of the work, though only partly so. Yet they should not be
exaggerated; this was in most respects an excellent performance from both
soloist and orchestra. The slow movement seemed just ‘right’ in terms of tempo
and general mood. That is not to say that it could not be done differently, but
rather that it convinced, again insofar as that be possible. Poised nicely
between chamber and orchestral music, the movement as a whole benefited from
the example of give and take afforded by solo violin and cello. A relatively
small orchestra could, moreover, call upon weightier tone when required. If the
transition to the finale did not convince, then I am not sure there is much
more the performers could have done. Once settled down, it again worked well,
Saraste’s ear for harmony and rhythm especially propitious. Throughout, of
course, Capuçon’s well-nigh Old World style worked its wonders.
Such
a work offers no mean first half, when the second is Bruckner’s Eighth
Symphony. I find myself rather in two minds about Saraste’s performance, intriguing
and somewhat unconvincing in more or less equal measure. (Such is not a comment
upon the orchestral performance as such, which, bar a little evident tiredness
towards the end of the finale, was less ambiguous in its quality.) The first movement, marked Allegro moderato, was not necessarily
excessively fast, but certainly sounded more Allegro than I can recall having heard previously. That need not
have been a problem; indeed, in many ways it proved refreshing. But there were
times when greater flexibility would have been in order. Such, after all, is
the nature of Bruckner’s sonata forms and ‘deformations’. Urgency, then, was
welcome, but not at the expense of variety within unity. A few moments of
(relative) stillness seemed to look forward to Mahler, but it was not always
clear how we had arrived there. As a consequence of that movement’s swift
tempo, the scherzo came as less of a contrast, more of a continuation (perhaps
not entirely like Mahler’s Sixth Symphony, at least for those of us who
continue to prefer placing the scherzo second in that work). Here, rhythm and
harmony were better aligned; it was rather impressive. However, the trio
relaxed in the wrong sense; rather than offering a degree of relief, it seemed
merely to meander.
The
slow movement was on the swift side again, though not unreasonably so. There
was some beautiful playing from the strings in particular, harps included.
Saraste’s conception might have be considered ‘objective’, though I think that
is probably a misnomer. There was certainly for the most part a general sense
of shape, but that did not always translate into formal dynamism. All the more
difficult, I know, in a slow movement, but then, that is what a conductor is
for. The brass, here and the finale, sometimes displayed a tendency towards
undue loudness. My overriding question remained, however: what does this, or at
least might this, mean? Saraste seemed less enigmatic than uninterested. For
the most part, the finale proved convincing. Notwithstanding those few slips
previously mentioned and a certain brass crudity at times, the LPO offered a
powerful and in many ways subtle performance. There was a good deal of light
and shade, allied to the general progression of the musical argument. (And yes,
Bruckner-sceptics, there is a musical argument, if not of a Brahmsian variety!)
Schubert seemed to haunt a number of passages, the movement torn between such
backward glances and something more modernistic. Moreover, the ambiguity of
major-mode passages registered splendidly; there was still battle to be done. Alas,
much of this very good work was undone by Saraste’s bizarre rush to the finish,
almost as if embarrassed by the final peroration. It went for nothing, not even
superficially exciting: a great pity.
