Cleveland Orchestra
Franz Welser-Möst, conductor
Severance Hall
Cleveland, OH
October 5, 2017
Mahler: Symphony No. 6 in A minor, Tragic
The Cleveland Orchestra is pulling all the stops in opening their centennial season, with this week’s attention turned toward a monumental Mahler score in addition to Saturday night’s gala. Before the music began, Thursday’s performance saw the annual presentation of the Distinguished Service Award, this year given to Chair of the Board of Trustees Dennis W. LaBarre. Following that moment of celebration, Welser-Möst and the orchestra embarked on a journey through darkness with Mahler’s Sixth Symphony, unique amongst the composer’s symphonic corpus in that it ends in unresolved tragedy.
Franz Welser-Möst and The Cleveland Orchestra, photo credit Roger Mastroianni, courtesy of The Cleveland OrchestraThe opening movement was taken at a brisk tempo, and one could sense the immediate buildup of potential energy that would power the work’s unrelenting cataclysms. Terse, motivic cells yielded a pulsating march theme, punctuated by the shrillness of the winds. Another gesture was introduced that would recur throughout, namely the major triad collapsing into the minor, prescient of the tragic trajectory. Some contrast was to be had in the lushly flowing “Alma” theme, while the development offered a particularly striking moment with the celesta and offstage cowbells suggesting some distant, hallucinogenic dream of the Austrian countryside. Perhaps Mahler’s most classically-proportioned movement, the recapitulation brought to a triumphant close, though as was later evident, only deceptively so in this hollow victory.
There has long been contention regarding the ordering of the two inner movements. The critical edition places the scherzo ahead of the Andante, while Mahler changed his mind during rehearsals and opted to conduct the Andante first. Welser-Möst honored Mahler’s decision, not just with regards to the Sixth’s chronology, but in terms of tempo as well – as he remarked in the program notes, its 1906 premiere with the composer conducting spanned 77 minutes, and Thursday’s performance clocked in at that on the dot. The Andante is in the distant key of E flat major, a tritone apart from the A minor of the other movements, and indeed, it occupied a peaceful world far removed from the surrounding tumult. One was struck by the genial warmth of the clarinets, and in due course, gleaming solos in the cor anglais and horn.
The march theme from the first movement returned in the scherzo, this time mutated into the grotesque and exhibiting a manic energy. The percussion added a particular grimness, while the pair of trios provided some lighter moments, if only relatively speaking. Afendi Yusuf’s solo clarinet passages were filled with rhythmic swagger though perhaps a notch too loud, and answered by the uneasiness of the col legno strings. Otherworldly sounds in the celesta opened the finale, thus beginning the plunge into infinite darkness. A stentorian brass chorale of enormous power, again embodying the decay from major to minor, initiated the movement’s epic, monumental fight, albeit one that would ultimately end in futility. Moments with the apparent potential of victory were quickly snuffed out by the two crashing hammer blows, the second with even more finitude than the first, signifying the point of no return. Some tender moments in the oboe from Frank Rosenwein suggested the possibility of respite, but overtaken as if with inevitability by the hollow emptiness of the conclusion, an unmitigated tragedy after which Welser-Möst held the audience spellbound in reverential silence.
Franz Welser-Möst and The Cleveland Orchestra – note the hammer in the back row, photo credit Roger Mastroianni, courtesy of The Cleveland Orchestra
Cleveland Orchestra
Franz Welser-Möst, conductor
Severance Hall
Cleveland, OH
September 28, 2017
Beethoven: String Quartet No. 15, Op. 132 (transc. for string orchestra by Welser-Möst)
Stravinsky: The Rite of Spring
Encore:
Wagner: Good Friday Spell, from Parsifal
After last weekend’s stellar revival performances of Janáček’s opera The Cunning Little Vixen, this week the Cleveland Orchestra turned attention toward purely orchestral music in scores of Beethoven and Stravinsky – a work from late in the career of the former and early in that of the latter, both uniquely revolutionary and iconoclastic. A crown jewel of this season’s offerings is the upcoming cycle of Beethoven symphonies, and the String Quartet No. 15 in A minor served as a generous prelude, presented in a lush transcription for string orchestra by Welser-Möst himself. During the preconcert conservation with him and executive director André Gremillet, the conductor noted that Beethoven’s ethos often resonates with the values on which the United States was founded, and with regards to the late quartets, that they are “half-symphonic”, thus making the expansion to a larger ensemble a logical realization of the composer’s vision.
Franz Welser-Möst and The Cleveland Orchestra, photo credit Roger Mastroianni, courtesy of The Cleveland Orchestra
Welser-Möst’s transcription was fastidiously faithful to Beethoven’s original, with the thoughtful addition of the basses adding weight where appropriate in doubling the cello line an octave below, and imposingly aligned in the back row – a positioning preferred by the Vienna Philharmonic, an ensemble with which Welser-Möst is intimately familiar. The work’s nebulous, enigmatic opening gave way in due course to the heft of the movement proper, and for one accustomed to hearing it as a quartet, the sight and sound of so many players in precise unison was really quite astounding. The scherzo had the charm of a minuet, contrasted by a more rustic trio, its halcyon bliss interrupted by stormier interludes, bringing to mind the mercurial Schubert.
The heart of the quartet is surely the central and quite extensive “Heiliger Dankgesang”; its unassuming beginnings in the Lydian mode grew to a heartwrenchingly beautiful resound. A sprightly foil was to be found in the brief Alla marcia, effectively a bridge to the finale, with a solo passage at the end given to concertmaster William Preucil as a quasi-cadenza. The last movement was overflowing with nervous energy and angst, an affront to the string quartet’s classical origins and indeed an augur of Romanticism.
In the aforementioned preconcert talk, Welser-Möst touched upon his keenness to include watershed works in the orchestra’s centennial season, and The Rite of Spring certainly fits the bill (and the conductor noted that upcoming performances of Beethoven’s Eroica and Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde are in that pantheon as well). The impossibly high passage in the solo bassoon unleashed a performance of unrelenting virtuosity, from its cataclysmic, primal climaxes, to the strained moments of a world of sacrificial desolation, the latter particularly notable at the beginning of Part II. It was abundantly clear how deeply ingrained this music is in the orchestra’s DNA, having championed it for decades (think of their landmark 1969 recording with Boulez), yet I was struck by how Welser-Möst opted for crisp articulation and dry textures; while it boasted razor-sharp clarity, it lingered a step below the red-hot intensity other conductors might champion.
Nonetheless, the ovations that followed were richly deserved, and the audience was treated to a rarity: an encore on home turf. Welser-Möst introduced it as a “beautiful piece for a beautiful audience”, otherwise known as the “Good Friday Spell” from Wagner’s divine final opera, Parsifal. Newly-appointed principal clarinet Afendi Yusuf had a shining moment in the spotlight – a sign of good things to come – and after the ferocity of the Stravinsky, the encore allowed the evening to conclude in peaceful radiance.
Franz Welser-Möst and The Cleveland Orchestra, photo credit Roger Mastroianni, courtesy of The Cleveland Orchestra
In a thrilling close to this season’s triptych of Summers@Severance offerings, the Cleveland Orchestra joined forces with the Blossom Festival Chorus and a quartet of vocal soloists in Mozart’s enigmatic final work, the incomparable Requiem (presented in the familiar completion by Franz Xaver Süssmayr). Making his podium debut was Patrick Dupré Quigley, founder and artistic director of the South Florida based choral ensemble Seraphic Fire, who collaborated with the Orchestra in last March’s memorable performance of Stravinsky’s Threni. Not one to be restrained by the conventions of historical performance practice, Quigley opted for an orchestra and chorus expansive in number, what it may have lacked in authenticity it more than made up for in a rich tapestry of sound.
Patrick Dupré Quigley
From the opening bars of the Introit, one was struck by the gripping intensity and seriousness of purpose, and the resonant tones of the pair of basset horns offered an early instrumental highlight, while Joela Jones’ organ gave matters an almost monastic quality. With graceful gestures, Quigley adroitly held all the moving parts in tight alignment, and soprano Lauren Snouffer provided and heaven-reaching solo passage. The brief Kyrie was marked by an intricate fugato, with all voices deftly balanced and clearly delineated.
Ample fire and passion filled the Dies irae to open the extensive Sequence, and rapid execution was to be found in this technical tour de force. The Tuba mirum constituted a further highpoint, with the heft of bass-baritone Dashon Burton in dialogue with the trombone, and the more strained quality of Steven Soph’s tenor offered effective contrast. The full force of the chorus was rallied in the ensuing Rex tremendae, coming together in especially striking fashion on the word “majestatis”, a majestic moment indeed. All four soloists had their due in the Recordare; in spite of the relatively youthful age of the quartet, they attained a balance and chemistry one would expect from a much more seasoned group.
A menacing vigor drove the Confutatis, with particular grit in the strings, only to be countered by the angelic voices of the female choir. A resounding major closed the famous Lacrymosa, a glorious moment which could hardly have been anticipated by the innocent sighs with which it began. The polish of the Blossom Festival Chorus (incidentally, a volunteer group) truly shone in the Offertory, and further in negotiating the counterpoint of “Osanna in excelsis” which concluded both the Sanctus and Benedictus.
Melancholy returned in the august Agnus Dei (this is, after all, a requiem), and the wistful introspection of the opening was invoked in the concluding Lux aeterna, surely the most inspired moment of Süssmayr’s completion. Snouffer was effective in her final solo, and the weight of the chorus built to one last fugue. A dramatic pause kept the audience spellbound before delivery of the concluding line, a memorable finish to a very successful summer season at Severance Hall.
Cleveland Orchestra
Susanna Mälkki, conductor
Bertrand Chamayou, piano
Severance Hall
Cleveland, OH
July 28, 2017
Scriabin: Piano Concerto in F sharp minor, Op. 20
Schumann: Symphony No. 3 in E flat major, Op. 97, Rhenish
After opening the Summers@Severance season with a bread-and-butter all-Beethoven program, the Cleveland Orchestra turned to less familiar repertoire for the second installment. Two firsts for the orchestra were to be had in the opening selection of Scriabin’s youthful piano concerto: it was a vehicle for the Cleveland Orchestra debut of the French pianist Bertrand Chamayou, as well as the inaugural performance of the work in the ensemble’s century-long history. At the podium was Susanna Mälkki, a dynamic podium presence who never fails to strike me in her attention to color and nuance (and parenthetically, this was right on the heels of her memorable performance I caught in Chicago last month).
Bertrand Chamayou, photo credit Marco Borggreve
The Scriabin piano concerto is firmly in the grand Romantic tradition, in no way anticipatory of the revolutionary atonality the composer’s works would soon embrace. That being said, it’s a relatively compact work, the three movements cumulatively clocking in at under a half hour, and tends towards restraint over bombast. Opening with solo passages for the horn and clarinet, the wistful piano entrance piano entrance was unmistakably Chopinesque, displaying the influence of Scriabin’s muse at the time, and later countered by a more jestful theme. Arching melodies swelled in the orchestra, Mälkki skillfully balancing the dense orchestration with the solo piano, and movement built to a grandiose conclusion.
The central movement was cast in variations, an unusual form for Scriabin. Serene strings introduced the theme, while the first variation was marked by delicate filigree in the piano in dialogue with the clarinet. More animated material was to be had in the following variation, evidencing Chamayou’s considerable technical arsenal, while the third variation – and heart of the movement – was a somber funeral march, grounded in the piano’s lowest registers. A dramatic flourish in the piano opened the finale, Scriabin at his most extrovert. This gave way to a deeply passionate melody, of the kind one could easily mistake for the composer’s fellow Moscow Conservatory student Rachmaninov, and a display of blistering virtuosity and rich orchestral texture continued unabated through the resounding final chord.
Schumann’s Rhenish symphony made for a fitting counterpart to the concerto. The opening movement was majestic, the orchestral lines flowing together as one to bring to life the work’s namesake river, and it exuded the heroic potential of its key of E flat major, by no coincidence the same key as Beethoven’s Eroica. Widely-spaced strings characterized the scherzo, as if gently gliding along the water, and a choir of gentle winds highlighted the slow movement, later contrasted by the lushness of the strings. The crux of the symphony – and where Schumann breaks from his classical forebears – is in the penultimate movement, a stirring brass chorale, presaging the awe-inspiring solemnity of Bruckner (who was also quite fond of the movement in question’s marking of feierlich). While not without some unfortunate flubs in the brass, the effect was nonetheless imposing; the finale, however, was of unfettered jubilation, offering spirited playfulness to counter the stoicism of the preceding.
Cleveland Orchestra
Franz Welser-Möst, conductor
Severance Hall
Cleveland, OH
July 14, 2017
Beethoven: Overture to Egmont, Op. 84
Beethoven: Symphony No. 1 in C major, Op. 21
Beethoven: Symphony No. 5 in C minor, Op. 67
As a respite from the sometimes problematic conditions of al fresco performances, the Cleveland Orchestra offers the opportunity to hear them indoors through the summer at Severance Hall (which, incidentally, was recently featured on CNN as one of the finest music venues in the US) in tandem with their usual Blossom residency. Matters opened in auspicious form Friday evening, with music director Franz Welser-Möst leading an all-Beethoven program as a preview of sorts for the upcoming season’s Beethoven symphony cycle.
Summer festivities at Severance Hall, photo credit Roger Mastroianni
The Egmont overture made for a dramatic opening, apparent from the sustained introductory chords which which given with a glowering intensity. The principal winds were particular standouts when in dialogue with one another, and Welser-Möst had taut control of the work’s sonata form architecture. A piece of unrelenting Sturm und Drang, it was only occasionally mitigated by brief forays in the major, hardly enough to hint at the work’s jubilant conclusion.
In similar fashion to the preceding, the Symphony No. 1 in C major boasted a deftly-shaped chordal introduction, but otherwise this sprightly early work was worlds apart. The theme of the movement proper crept in unassumingly, and burst with the self-assurance of the young composer. A secondary theme was very finely given in the oboe by Frank Rosenwein, and with the Austrian on the podium, the orchestra sounded like a proper Viennese ensemble. The genteel slow movement oscillated back and forth between playing in unison and various instrumental combinations in counterpoint, while the vigorous abandon of the third movement was a bona fide scherzo in all but name. The finale opened in a stately manner, echoing the symphony’s beginning, only to proceed in unabated high spirits.
Beethoven’s Fifth, that rather well-known quantity in the parallel minor of the First, rounded off the evening, for which the orchestra swelled to 19th-century proportions. Welser-Möst’s tempo choice was brisk and exacting, and despite the familiarity of this territory one never felt he was merely coasting on autopilot. Rosenwein’s solo passage in the development was a striking moment of stasis in a world otherwise defined by searing drama. There was a wonderful, burnished richness of the strings in the slow movement, and the winds were of note in the variation that perhaps interpolates La Folia.
In the penultimate movement, granite blocks of singularity gave way to delicate string filigree, although a somewhat more conservative tempo choice in the latter perhaps would have yielded clearer articulation. This led attacca to the brassy exultation of the finale. Welser-Möst opted for minimal dynamic contrast, which had the interesting (and perhaps intended?) benefit of making the ghostly return of the gesture from the third movement all the more haunting. That mood of course wasn’t maintained for long in this archetypal journey from darkness to light, and there was no ambiguity that we had firmly arrived at C major in the extensive coda. This drew a rapturous ovation from the packed house, and if Friday was any indication, next season’s traversal of the nine symphonies promises to be enormously rewarding.
Marc-André Hamelin, piano
Gartner Auditorium
Cleveland Museum of Art
Cleveland, OH
March 21, 2017
Haydn: Piano Sonata in C Major, Hob. XVI:48
Feinberg: Piano Sonata No. 1 in A major, Op. 1
Feinberg: Piano Sonata No. 2 in A minor, Op. 2
Beethoven: Piano Sonata No. 23 in F minor, Op. 57, Appassionata
Scriabin: Piano Sonata No. 7, Op. 64, Messe blanche
Chopin: Piano Sonata No. 2 in B flat minor, Op. 35
Encore:
Debussy: Reflets dans l’eau, No. 1 from Images, Book I
Marc-André Hamelin has built much of his reputation on fearless exploration of the byways of the piano repertoire, and his recital at the Cleveland Museum of Art – presented by the Cleveland International Piano Competition – was no exception, juxtaposing the familiar with the obscure. All the works on the program bore the title “piano sonata”, although none adhered very closely to the standard model of the form, a true testament to the medium’s protean potential. Hamelin delivered the program with his signature peerless technique, yet this was far from an evening of vapid virtuosity, but one of probing artistic discovery.
Marc-André Hamelin, photo credit Rachel PapoThe survey of piano sonatas appropriately began with Haydn, in the two movement C major sonata, Hob. XVI:48. Given Hamelin’s association with the fingerbusting works of the 19th– and 20th-century, Hamelin and Haydn might sound like an unnatural fit, but as he as shown in his extensive recordings of the composer’s sonatas for Hyperion, it’s an inspired coupling to be sure. From the onset, the performance was marked by deftly nuanced articulation and crisp ornamentation. There were sporadic moments when matters felt a bit heavy-handed which lesser pedaling perhaps could have ameliorated, but overall this was a study in precision, replete with minor key excursions that foreshadowed Beethoven, and the all too brief finale exuded joie de vivre.
Certified rarities followed, the first two piano sonatas of the Russian composer and pianist Samuil Feinberg. His cycle of twelve piano sonatas is a remarkable achievement, unjustly neglected, and Hamelin is rumored to be recording them. These two sonatas, in A major and minor respectively, were of a similar aesthetic, the consecutive opuses hardly demonstrating Feinberg’s eventual compositional developments (both dating from 1915; the final sonata dates from 1962), yet Hamelin presented them with a singular intensity and an unflinching commitment to this little-known music.
The First Sonata was of a brooding Romanticism, while the dense textures would have sounded murky in lesser hands, Hamelin achieved a lucid clarity of voices, and delineated a clear trajectory in spite of the composer’s tendency to meander. A touchingly lyrical melody characterized the Second Sonata, and a highpoint came in its dramatically cascading climax.
Beethoven’s mighty Appassionata is a recent addition to Hamelin’s concert repertoire; I’ve been eager to hear his take on this durable work, and he certainly didn’t disappoint. The opening movement built to massive climaxes that carefully avoided bombast. There was much-needed repose in the slow movement, enhanced by the adroitly voiced chordal melody, while the finale had an unrelenting nervous energy in its breathless race to the tragic end, given at a dangerously brisk tempo.
One of Hamelin’s first recordings of his long and fruitful association with Hyperion was of the complete Scriabin piano sonatas; the arresting Seventh Sonata is a work that has been in his fingers for a very long time. Explosive and mercurial, the sonata proceeded with inevitability towards the trilling, mystical ending, shrouded in enigma.
Chopin’s B-flat minor sonata concluded the program, and in the passionate first movement Hamelin drew out a fluid melody over an undulating accompaniment. He eschewed the repeat of the exposition, although in this case I would suggest the repeat is a wise interpretative choice given the movement’s proportions. There was a menacing determination in the scherzo, while its middle section was indulgent in sumptuous melody, quintessentially Chopinesque.
No empty sentimentality was to be had in the tragic heights of the famous funeral march, and Hamelin had a velvet touch in the contrasting lyrical section. His utter and absolute command of the keyboard was on full display in the moto perpetuum finale, yet phrases were keenly shaped to make the sonata’s revolutionary ending more than mere volleys of notes.
Hamelin obliged the modest but enthusiastic audience with an encore in Debussy’s Reflets dans l’eau, shimmering and liquescent.
Seraphic Fire
Patrick Dupré Quigley, artistic director
Margot Rood, soprano
Margaret Lias, mezzo-soprano
Steven Soph, tenor
Brian Giebler, tenor
James K. Bass, bass
Charles Wesley Evans, bass
Cleveland Orchestra Chorus
Robert Porco, director
Severance Hall
Cleveland, OH
March 18, 2017
Stravinsky: Feu d’artifice, Op. 4
Stravinsky: Apollo (1947 version)
Stravinsky: Symphonies of Wind Instruments (1947 version)
Stravinsky: Threni
An all-Stravinsky program that doesn’t include a note of The Firebird¸ Petrushka, or The Rite of Spring – impossible you say? Not for Franz Welser-Möst and the Cleveland Orchestra who presented a thoughtful survey of Stravinsky’s output while managing to skirt the well-worn blockbusters. Each of Stravinsky’s major stylistic periods were represented, and each work on the program was markedly different from the others, a testament to the composer’s remarkable versatility. A video of Welser-Möst speaking about the program can be viewed here:
Feu d’artifice, dating from 1908, comes from Stravinsky’s so-called Russian period that would eventually produce his watershed ballet scores for Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes. The brief but brilliant work is certainly the vision of a youthful firebrand, scored for large orchestra with some particularly striking writing for the celesta. While there was a sensuous contrasting theme, matters were largely big-boned and extrovert in this last vestige of Russian Romanticism.
Originally composed 1927-28, the ballet score Apollo (variously known by its French title Apollon musagète) was presented in its 1947 revision. Conceived for strings alone, Apollo is a major product of Stravinsky’s neoclassical period, both in terms of its language, elegant in its clarity and restraint, and its classical inspiration. The untroubled “Prologue” showcased the beauty of the Cleveland strings, and the ensuing “Variation d’Apollon” featured graceful solo playing from concertmaster William Preucil. A “Pas d’action” was characterized by long melodies well-suited to the strings which set up a series of variations depicting three of the Muses. The “Pas de deux” was delicate and given with an ineffable charm, while the “Coda” offered contrast in its jaunty syncopations. Matters were left in serenity by means of the concluding “Apothéose”, music of haunting stasis.
Apollo was suitably complemented by the Symphonies of Wind Instruments, also stemming from the neoclassical period, but earlier enough to offer some stylistic variety. Dating from 1919-20, like the preceding, it was performed in its revised version (coincidentally, from 1947 as well, also the year that the ever-fastidious composer revised Petrushka). The titular wind instruments were not restricted to just the woodwind family, but the broader category of aerophones; hence, the brass were included as well. “Symphonies”, in its intentional plurality, invoked the term’s Greek origins (literally, “sounding together”), and in the work Stravinsky accordingly was keen to explore various combinations of instrumentation.
Opening with striking, piquant harmonies, the work mercilessly jettisoned sentimentality, demanding such razor-sharp precision that its tempo changes were in a carefully proportioned 1:1.5:2 ratio. Under Welser-Möst’s taut direction, the desired effect was expertly achieved. A rhythmically-driven section recalled perhaps the primacy of rhythm in The Rite of Spring, and in spite of its apparent callousness, the work closed in a poignant chorale, meant as a tombeau for the recently deceased Debussy.
The evening’s most intriguing discovery was the final work, the rarely performed Threni, in its belated Cleveland premiere. Completed in 1958, it was the composer’s first completely serial foray, scored for full orchestra, chorus, and six vocal soloists. This weekend’s sextet of soloists were from the acclaimed South Florida based choral group Seraphic Fire. Subtitled “Lamentations of Jeremiah”, the 35-minute work sets text from the Old Testament in Vulgate Latin, punctuated by the chorus exclaiming a letter from the Hebrew alphabet which served as veritable signposts in this demanding score. Also useful in such unfamiliar territory were the detailed and informative remarks Welser-Möst presented prior to commencing.
The religious discipline was conveyed in the work’s austerity; despite being cast for large orchestra, the textures were dominated by sparse, chamber-like combinations. A brief introduction was given with declamatory seriousness by Margot Rood and Margaret Lias, soprano and mezzo-soprano respectively. The first section of the work proper (“De Elegia Prima”) was marked by very fine playing from Michael Sachs on the bugle (flugelhorn), often in dialogue with tenor Brian Giebler, and the chorus commanded a wide dynamic range, from monastic whispers to cataclysmic climaxes. “De Elegia Tertia” featured striking contributions from the booming bass of the aptly named James K. Bass, his delivery suggesting that of a monk. Stravinsky was almost certainly influenced by Gesualdo; the sophisticated pointillist counterpoint of a Renaissance motet was cleanly negotiated by all, and the closing “De Elegia Quinta” brought forth a conclusion of solemn resolution.
Cleveland Orchestra
Jaap van Zweden, conductor
Daniil Trifonov, piano
Severance Hall
Cleveland, OH
November 27, 2016
Britten: Sinfonia da Requiem, Op. 20
Mozart: Piano Concerto No. 23 in A major, K488
Beethoven: Symphony No. 5 in C minor, Op. 67
Over the Thanksgiving weekend, the Cleveland Orchestra presented a sumptuous program anchored by seminal works of Mozart and Beethoven. After being heralded earlier this year as the New York Philharmonic’s music director-designate, all eyes have been on Jaap van Zweden. The program played on his strengths, and even the most familiar of repertoire sounded dynamic and anew under his probing guidance.
Jaap van Zweden, photo credit Bert Hulselmans
The afternoon began in somewhat less familiar territory with Britten’s Sinfonia da Requiem, a work the orchestra has not performed since the 1970s. A triptych of succinct, interconnected movements, it encapsulates the composer’s pacifist leanings and is an important precursor to the watershed War Requiem. The opening Lacrymosa began quite strikingly in the timpani and piano, keyboardist Joela Jones providing an unrelenting, anxious ostinato. The oboe passages of principal Frank Rosenwein were strained and pained in a texture that built to surging brass climaxes in its ethos of despair.
Nervous flutes opened the Dies irae but the heart of the piece was in the concluding Requiem aeternam. While in lesser hands it can sound like a plodding passacaglia, under van Zweden’s baton it was peaceful and plaintive, building to an arching lyricism in serene resolution, worlds apart from the austerity of the opening.
Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 23 brought forth the remarkable young pianist Daniil Trifonov, who has an important connection to the city having studied at the Cleveland Institute of Music. The concerto opened in the airy textures of the strings, with a gesture as gentle as an exhale, and it was with that naturalness the music flowed. Trifonov’s entrance was unassuming and graceful, and he emphasized the work’s lyrical beauty and dramatic contrasts as per his propensity to the Romantic repertoire, though never in excess. The cadenza was fleet and deftly balanced, displaying Trifonov’s astonishing dexterity.
Daniil Trifonov
Cast in the relative key of F sharp minor, the slow movement was filled with longing, and the winds were almost decadent in the splendor of their singing lines. Trifonov would often glance heavenward as if seeking some divine inspiration, fitting for music this sublime. The sprightly rondo finale is inherently familiar to many Clevelanders, in its frequent appearances as theme music on WCLV. Although there were shades of darkness in its minor key episodes, the overall mood was of pure joie de vivre.
Perhaps the greatest interpretative challenge of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony is making one of the most popular pieces in the literature sound anything but trite and clichéd. Van Zweden proved amply up to the challenge as was apparent right from the crispness of the arresting opening, in a first movement that was lean and taut. Its violent contrasts were emphasized, keeping the audience on the edge of their seats as it seemingly could devolve into wild abandon at any moment, yet matters were always tightly controlled.
The slow movement began with some especially lovely tones in the cellos, and the interplay between the martial and lyrical themes was cleanly delineated. I was especially struck by the clarity of the third movement’s fugato section, the contrapuntal lines weaving in and out of the strings. The finale was an exuberant and joyous affair, and the noteworthy addition of the trombone and the piccolo heightened its sense of drama to bring the concert to a rousing close.
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