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| Images: (c) ISM Wolfgang Lienbacher |
Grosser Saal, Mozarteum
Mendelssohn – String Symphony
no.7 in D minor
Mozart – Piano Concerto no.27
in B-flat major, KV 595Weinberg – Sinfonietta no.2 in G minor, op.74
Mozart – Piano Concerto no.23 in A major, KV 488
My visit to this year’s
Salzburg Mozartwoche ended in style with Kremerata Baltica, augmented for the
Mozart works by wind players from Concerto Budapest, and Radu Lupu. The
festival’s Mendelssohn theme was honoured with a stunning performance of his
Seventh String Symphony, in D minor, quite the best I have heard of any of
these absurdly early works. Was Mendelssohn perhaps an even greater prodigy
than Mozart? The musical equivalent of the nouveau
riche loves to disparage Mozart’s juvenilia, keen to show that it can tell
the difference between Bastien und
Bastienne and The Magic Flute.
Yes, thank you; we all can. Nevertheless, despite the riches to be found by
those with ears to listen in Mozart’s early works, Mendelssohn’s achievement is
at least as extraordinary. The
players (led by Džeraldas Bidva) captured to a tee, in all its excitement and
life, the strange and delightful blend of Baroque and Mozart to be heard here
in the first movement. (One would not necessarily want to hear many of these ‘symphonies’
together, but as an extended overture, there is much to enjoy.) Clarity and
dynamism were as one. The key of D minor was surely recognisable from Mozart’s
own writing; Gluck’s Don Juan came to
mind too. Mozart was also strongly echoed in the Andante, even if here the echo is slightly bland. Intelligently
phrased, with its modulations relished, it is difficult to imagine the movement
coming off better. There is greater originality in the minuet and trio, not
least in the lower strings, and so it sounded, even if it does not sound like
the mature composer. A few parts of the finale do, I think, even if most still
do not. At any rate, the performance was excellent, highly convincing
throughout. Mendelssohn’s contrapuntal learning served him and the players
well.
The absolute highlight of the concert
for me was Mozart’s final piano concerto, for which, of course, the players
were joined by Lupu. Despite an ever-so-slightly shaky opening bar or two, the
performance soon settled down. The opening ritornello sounded more vernal than
autumnal; here and throughout, there was a true sense of chamber music writ
large. Lupu ornamented his line from his first entry, but it never sounded
anything other than ‘natural’. And what a touch he has, having one feel humane
depth as well as melodic delights. Lupu showed how his playing can twinkle
without sacrifice to the harmonic implications of Mozart’s score. The
oscillation between tonic major and minor, so crucial to much mature musical
Classicism, and never more so, surely, than in this work, proved so in
performance too. If the orchestra offered spring, Lupu’s playing seemed more of
an Indian summer; at times ghostly, yet always gorgeous of tone and
characterful too. One very noticeable fluff (if I remember correctly, a wrong
bass note) perturbed no one, likewise a slip at the end of the cadenza. This
was very much a tale of an elder sage and his younger disciples. The opening to
the slow movement registered divine simplicity, the warmth of the orchestral
response enchanting and consoling. That major-minor oscillation sounded, and
yes felt, truly heartbreaking. I do not think I have heard the piano line sound
so simple and yet so inimitable as here: as close, it seemed, to unmediated
Mozart as one would ever hear. And that was despite considerable ornamentation,
to which it was a delight to hear the woodwind soloists respond in kind. The
sheer ‘rightness’ of the opening piano statement in the finale, likewise the
orchestral response, set the tone for what followed. Every note in Lupu’s part
sounded both properly weighted and yet integrated into the longer line. Is
there anything sadder than to know that this would be Mozart’s final essay in
the genre? Well, yes: the sadness of his major-mode smiling through tears, here
captured to perfection. One felt the fragility of happiness, of beauty, of song, of
harmony: yet, onwards Mozart continued.
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| Kremerata Baltica in rehearsal |
I had previously been less than
bowled over by the music of Mieczyław Weinberg, although I know he has his
fervent admirers. This performance of the G minor Sinfonietta, op.74 (1960)
came closer to winning me over than any other has done. I think it was a matter
both of work and performance, the latter rarely, save, perhaps for the third
movement Adagio, overstaying its
welcome, the performance as committed as the work will surely ever receive. The
first movement opened in vehement, even frightening mode, the string orchestra
sound making me think of wartime Honegger (the Second Symphony). The second
movement sounded close to Shostakovich and, more interestingly, Prokofiev in
ghostly clockwork mode. Kremerata Baltica’s strings really dug in throughout, perhaps
still more so in the third and fourth movements. Solos were splendidly taken,
but it was the ensemble as a whole that impressed most of all.
The performance of KV 488 was
again very much on a chamber scale, but that did not mean that it lacked
orchestral contrast. Tutti passages were not only beautifully played but were
possessed of a kenn, unforced sense of drama. Lupu sounded much as before,
which is not in any sense intended to convey a lack of enthusiasm, simply to
indicate that I am in danger of running out of superlatives. Occasionally,
orchestral phrase endings were a little abrupt, but that should not be
exaggerated. Again, it was sheer ‘rightness’ that ruled for the most part in
this first movement. Lupu’s opening solo in the Adagio straightforwardly compelled one to listen. It was a proper Adagio too; one often hears this
movement taken too fast. Orchestral chiaroscuro was spot on throughout,
contributing beautifully to a dignified sadness that felt no need of
histrionics. Lupu’s awareness of the ways in which the piano line both is and
is not ‘vocal’ impressed; perhaps surprisingly, given his way with KV 595, he
left it without ornamentation. The finale was playful, spirited, but of course
not without sadness. Again, there was not the slightest sense of performance
imposing itself upon the music. This was a delight from beginning to end.
