Royal Albert Hall
Brahms – Symphony no.3 in F
major, op.90
Franz Schmidt – Symphony no.2
in E-flat major
Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra
Semyon Bychkov (conductor)
I should have been fascinated
to hear the following evening’s Vienna Philharmonic Prom, with that orchestra
performing The Dream of Gerontius
under Sir Simon Rattle, not least since I am always interested to hear
non-English orchestras in Elgar. One cannot do everything, however, and I was
keen to hear Semyon Bychkov with the VPO in Brahms and intrigued to hear an
early-twentieth-century for the first time, whether live or recorded.
Brahms’s Third Symphony
opened in grand fashion, preparing the way – at least in retrospect – for considerable
scaling down and subsiding in a serenade-like second group. Bychkov’s tempi
were flexible. There was one point at which I wondered whether he were slowing
too much, but otherwise I was convinced. The first movement’s development
section had a real sense of new departure, and an urgent one at that.
Reaffirmation in necessarily transformed circumstances was the hallmark of the
recapitulation. On the whole, Bychkov emphasised the often-downplayed
turbulence and darkness of this work. The opening material of the second
movement sounded nicely ‘late’, even archaic, recalling Brahms’s profound study
of early music, but Brahmsian method soon informed us in no uncertain terms who
was in charge. And how gorgeous those Viennese violins sounded! I liked Bychkov’s
questing way in the third movement. There were no easy answers in what is
perhaps the most obviously ‘personal’ movement of all. Alas, as in between
every movement, we suffered half-hearted applause from a strange few. Please,
stop it! The finale also benefited from a notably dark reading, sounding
ambivalent even by Brahms’s standards. (That is surely one of the respects in
which he comes closest to Mozart.) The brass sounded wonderfully resigned.
Immediate applause clearly frustrated Bychkov’s wishes – and most of the
audience’s. If one were actually listening to the music, that is the last thing
one would want without a moment of reflection.
I am afraid I found myself
somewhat nonplussed by Franz Schmidt’s Second Symphony. I certainly do not
begrudge it a first Proms performance, and, insofar as I could tell from a
first hearing, Bychkov and the VPO gave an excellent account of it. However,
for the most part, it seemed to me over-extended for the material, which in
itself did not grab me as it clearly did many others. Perhaps the fault was
mine; I shall give it another try, especially since many people whose judgement
I respect, not least Bychkov, think very highly of it. (He describes it as ‘magnificent’.)
I was a little at sea with respect to how the first movement hung together, not least with
an odd intrusion from what sounded like the world of Eric Coates. There were
some attractive Straussian sounds in the orchestra. Bychkov likened them to Daphne, which, independently, I had
thought too; however, Schmidt’s symphony (1911-13) came first. To my ears, the
orchestra veered between ravishing and slightly patchy, but I think that might
have been an oddity of the acoustic. (It is so difficult to tell in the Albert
Hall.) The strange ending: well, perhaps Schmidt fans can explain to me its
peremptory nature. The second movement, a theme and variations, offered the VPO
woodwind ample opportunity, definitely taken, to excel. It seemed to me more
successful, if undeniably conservative, even reactionary. The strings too
seemed quite at home in what sounded like often treacherous yet always
idiomatic writing. (Schmidt was a cellist.) However, the movement went on – and
on. Again, I was not sure that I always understood where the third and final
movement was going. Sometimes, as indeed earlier, I was put in mind of a slight
caricature of Max Reger. Conductor and orchestra clearly relished what they
were playing, though. As I said, the problem may well have been mine and I
shall try again.
As an encore, which, somehow
I guessed, perhaps with the following night’s Prom at the back of my mind, we
heard ‘Nimrod’. I am afraid it made me wish we had heard the Enigma Variations or an Elgar Symphony
instead. Here the VPO sounded at its most golden; Bychkov directed its progress
subtly, allowing the music, as the cliché has it, to ‘speak for itself’, which
generally takes a great deal of understanding as well as self-control. Maybe I
should have been better off with the Elgar Prom after all.
