Grosser Saal, Mozarteum
Mozart – Symphony no.1 in
E-flat major, KV 16
Mendelssohn, Piano Concerto
no.1 in G minor, op.25Dutilleux – Mystère de l’instant
Mozart – Symphony no.39 in E-flat major, KV 543
This year’s Salzburg
Mozartwoche has allotted a special place to Mendelssohn, present in three of
the five concerts I have attended or will. The centenary of Henri Dutilleux’s
birth was also celebrated in this concert from the Mozarteum Orchestra and
Louis Langrée. His Mystère de l’instant (1986,
revised 1989), for twenty-four strings, cimbalom, and percussion – a clear echo
of Bartók, unsurprisingly given its status as a Sacher work – received what
seemed to me an impressive performance. I have rarely proved responsive to
Dutilleux’s music, rather to my disappointment, given the number of people I
know who admire it greatly. This, however, proved an exception. In ten (very)
short movements, we experienced a vividly pictorial, albeit not only pictorial,
drama-in-miniature. Balances were well judged throughout, all of the solos (be
they cimbalom, percussion, or string) well taken. Rhythms were not only
precise, but propulsive. The appearance of the SACHER cipher in the tenth
movement, ‘Métamorphoses’, inevitably put me in mind of another, slightly
younger French composer, whose music I know much better.
Alexander Melnikov had joined
the orchestra for Mendelssohn’s First Piano Concerto. It is not a work I feel
wild about, yet I have heard more compelling performances than this, especially
from the soloist. A turbulent opening to the first movement had promised well.
If very fast indeed, pretty hard-driven, the score arguably suggests that.
Melnikov’s approach, however, seemed curiously static, a series of episodes
that did not lead anywhere. His tone was a strange mixture of grand, old-style
Romanticism, and inconsequential skating across the keys. I should have
preferred everyone to calm down a little, but it was the lack of direction from
the soloist that especially troubled me. That said, Melnikov handled the
transition to the second movement well, although his strange detachment soon
again had the upper hand. The Salzburg cellos, however, sounded gorgeous. The
finale was even more po-faced, at least so far as the pianist was concerned. He
efficiently despatched everything, with considerable tonal variegation; I was
never moved, though, in a performance that seemed serious in the wrong way.
No one would claim Mozart’s
First Symphony to be a masterpiece, but by virtue of being his first symphony,
it holds an undeniable interest for many of us. This was a less warm
performance than Karl Böhm used to give, but anyone would surely have expected
that. It pulsed with life, the highly contrasting figures of the first movement
given their due. Langrée’s smiles suggested he was enjoying himself. The slow
movement was well-shaped, its textures well-balanced. What it lacks above all
is melodic genius, but that is no one’s fault. A joyful and ebullient
performance of the finale brought this first item on the programme to an
impressive close, the movement over in the twinkling of an eye.
Anyone, however, who did not
consider Mozart’s final E-flat major Symphony to be a masterpiece would be
well-advised to give up on music completely. The opening E-flat chords
inevitably brought The Magic Flute to
mind, although equally, the development thereafter reminded us this was a very
different work. The first-movement exposition clearly grew out of the
introduction. (That should, but alas does not, go without saying.) Langrée had
a few rather irritating agogic touches (especially upon repetition), but nothing
too grievous. For the most part, direction was clear, the concision of the
development section truly a thing of wonder. The concluding bars did what they
should: properly triumphant, thematically integrative, resounding with an
inevitability that would surely have made Haydn proud. The slow movement was
well-shaped, taken at a relatively swift tempo, the minor mode episodes making
a strong impression. Langrée was sometimes prone to exaggerated tapering off of
phrases, but I have heard far worse. A graceful yet vigorous minuet made a
strong case for being taken one-to-a-bar. Orchestral detail was always finely
etched. The trio flowed nicely, whilst offering proper relief. Langrée’s tempo
for the finale sounded effortlessly right, allowing everything to slot into
place (which is not, of course, to minimise the achievement of that happening).
It was full of Haydnesque purpose, whilst, in its characterisation and sheer
drama, never permitting us to forget that this was the composer of the Da Ponte
operas. I could find no fault whatsoever in this delightful finale.
