Posts Tagged ‘Beethoven’

Plush Strings of Luxembourg

Wednesday, December 31st, 2014

Philharmonie in Luxembourg

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: December 31, 2014

MUNICH — Lëtzebuerg Stad, a.k.a. Luxembourg-Ville, population 100,000, holds a spiffier position these days in the musical firmament. Its orchestra has graduated from the legendary but somewhat seedy aegis of Radio Luxembourg — once a commercial thorn in the national broadcasting sides of France and Britain — and now operates as the Orchestre Philharmonique du Luxembourg in an arresting white 9-year-old hall on a rock, a mile from the Grand Ducal Palace. Credit local economic prosperity, with new bases for Amazon, Apple, Cisco, eBay, Microsoft and more, not forgetting the Cour de justice de l’Union européenne (the E.U.’s Supreme Court), whose duties and lawyer count expand with each passing budget.

The metamorphosis has blessed the ensemble with a glowing and intense string sound, evident all through a MünchenMusik tour stop here Nov. 19 in the (awful) Gasteig. Guest conductor Joshua Weilerstein let the strings speak eloquently for themselves in Ravel’s Ma mère l’Oye (1911); woodwind contributions varied in quality. Nudging the pace here and there and supporting legato lines, Weilerstein brought coherence to the suite, and charm, notably in Petit Poucet, the movement about the boy whose breadcrumbs vanish. On the concert’s first half, the Luxembourgers demonstrated lively partnering skills for Beethoven’s Violin Concerto (1806) and soloist Hilary Hahn, who established her authority from the moment she entered. Fresh, alert, technically brilliant, she chose ideal tempos and mustered considerable drama, her tone pleasingly full, her fingering secure. As rousing conclusion came Gershwin’s An American in Paris (1928). Here however, with the extra brass and possibly varying ideas about how to swing, coordination three or four times faltered, and conspicuously.

Photo © Ministère de l’Économie du Luxembourg

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Pollini Seals His Beethoven

Monday, November 24th, 2014

Beethoven Piano Sonatas played by Maurizio Pollini

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: November 24, 2014

MUNICH — It took him 39 years, but Maurizio Pollini has now completed his recorded survey of Beethoven sonatas here in the Herkulessaal, where the project began. The final sessions, for the Opp. 31 and 49 pieces, were held in June this year, and the resulting CD set is due for U.S. release on Dec. 2, according to Amazon.

In all, twenty-three of the sonatas were taped in the 1,270-seat shoebox hall, part of Munich’s Residenz arts complex and a favorite venue of the 72-year-old Lombard pianist since he used it for his legendary Chopin Etudes disc in 1972. First built in 1842 as Bavarian King Ludwig I’s throne room, bombed during World War II and reopened for concerts in 1953, the stately but drab Herkulessaal remains this city’s one acoustically satisfactory venue for symphonic music and is a home to the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra.

Pollini’s slowly deliberated cycle, involving no second passes, started with the Opp. 109 and 110 sonatas in June 1975, when he was 33. Munich sessions continued in 1988, 1991, 2002 and 2007, while nine sonatas were recorded in Vienna and Lucerne. The record label is Deutsche Grammophon.

Photo © Rosanna Sibora

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Salzburg Coda

Friday, October 31st, 2014

Academy of St Martin In the Fields

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: October 31, 2014

SALZBURG — Alexander Pereira is now gone from the main festival here, and two tenuous summers are in the offing before Markus Hinterhäuser replaces him as Intendant in 2017. His exit, under a cloud, ends a budget tempest but threatens reversals of worthy initiatives he took: lengthening the schedule to six weeks, deepening the commitment to sacred music, insisting on fresh stagings for opera. Pereira did not adapt to the old-boy (and old-girl) Salzburg bureaucracy but he restored an element of decisiveness that had been lacking since Karajan and later Mortier ran things. And despite fiscal overages and gripes about casting, his programs were a Karajanesque blend of tradition and vetted novelty, exemplified on three August days in the paired artistry of Vilde Frang and Michail Lifits; concerts by the Mozarteum-Orchester and the Academy of St Martin In the Fields; and new productions of Fierrabras and La Cenerentola.

Peter Stein, wise yet out of fashion, told Schubert’s 1823 Carolingian tale straight, using monochrome flats and simple lighting tricks to paint and speed between differentiated, handsome scenes (Aug. 22, Haus für Mozart). His target: the seated theater audience, not roving DVD cameras. He stressed Christian values of compassion and peace, contrasting the vehemence of the Moors; Fierrabras was Fierrabras, destined for conversion, not an impersonation of the composer. But coarse horn playing marred the presentation of a score much dependent on that instrument, and conductor Ingo Metzmacher tended to allow the Vienna Philharmonic winds to swamp the luscious strings, the orchestra to swamp the singers. Of the six principal roles, Julia Kleiter’s silvery-voiced Emma did the music fullest justice. The Vienna State Opera Chorus sang magnificently, also magically.

Taking for La Cenerentola the opposite but these days routine path, Damiano Michieletto deployed hard-surface, camera-friendly sets and updated Perrault’s story (Aug. 23 matinee, same venue). His homey cafeteria, “Buffet Don Magnifico,” buzzed with credible characters and tightly calibrated action; a startling scenic transformation added depth. Angelina, in her middle years, found love at first sight while busing tables, and goodness triumphed at the close through gifts to her wedding guests: rubber gloves, buckets and soap; as those guests were put to work, she blew bubbles. In a probable farewell to this signature role, Cecilia Bartoli (48) exerted feisty charm, her sound opulent, the vocal ornaments expressive and fresh as ever. Mirroring her comedic sincerity, Javier Camarena sang a stylish Ramiro and a modest one, too, until Sì, ritrovarla io giuro. This he peppered with loud highs and a long last C brightened in a timbral arc. The basso roles were contrasted: Enzo Capuano a bully of a Magnifico with lucid patter and smooth legato, Ugo Guagliardo a cupid-magician Alidoro of rich tones but somewhat graceless phrasing, and Nicola Alaimo a robust Dandini who overplayed his comic hand. Jean-Christophe Spinosi and the Brest-based Ensemble Matheus rose to the witty occasion.

Tour appearances by the 55-year-old London orchestra (same day, at the Felsenreitschule) haven’t always validated the high standards of its early records. This one did. Tomo Keller’s work as guest concertmaster blazed with virtuosity and seemed to ignite all desks. Although uncredited by the festival, he led Mendelssohn’s D-Minor Sinfonia (1822) by himself, finding elegance and mature ideas as well as precision in the four movements. Seven winds and conductor Murray Perahia then joined the 24 strings for an exceptionally refined reading of Haydn’s Symphony No. 77 (1782) filled with neat contrasts and fresh turns of phrase; the airy Andante sostenuto could have spun for an hour without losing appeal. After the break, Beethoven’s Fifth Piano Concerto (1809) emerged in fluid streams of sound, the rhetoric measured, the attacks vivid. Perahia deftly balanced poetry and drama, piano and orchestra, signaling with his arms when not occupied at the keyboard.

Ivor Bolton, beloved Chefdirigent of the Mozarteum-Orchester, sandwiched ardent arias of Gluck and Mozart between G-Minor Sturm und Drang symphonies (Aug. 24 matinee, Mozarteum), packing quite a punch. Resilient rhythms, vigorous angular themes and tidy dynamic shifts enlivened Haydn’s Symphony No. 39 (1765), capped by an Allegro di molto that expertly whirred along. In Mozart’s Symphony No. 25, written eight years later and inspired by the Haydn, Bolton elicited equal cohesion and propulsion, favoring tautness over repose, but the volume of sound pushed the limits of the 800-seat hall. Rolando Villazón brought astounding degrees of verbal expression and ample vocal luster to his three Mozart arias — Per pietà, non ricercate (1783), Or che il dover (1766) and, as vehicle for clowning, Con ossequio, con rispetto (1775) — buoyed and gamely resisted by Bolton and the orchestra. In Gluck’s Unis dès la plus tendre enfance, from Iphigénie en Tauride (1779), the tenor delivered the French words with operatic flair.

After the recital by Frang and Lifits (same day, same venue), one woman asserted aloud that Frang couldn’t possibly play the violin to full potential for lack of flow in her body movements, while another attendee bemoaned pianist Lifits’s gum-chewing facial mannerisms. What was certain was that two unique personalities had made music. They combined best in the pieces that opened and closed their program, Brahms’s Scherzo for the Frei aber einsam Sonata (1853) and Strauss’s similarly confident and classically formed E-flat Sonata (1888). Results: clear lines, passionate phrasing, ideal balances, a definite sense of structure. Lifits could be heavy in the left hand and seemed not always aware of his partner, but she proved able to enlarge her tone when she chose, adding volatility. The stylistic jump from Brahms to Mozart’s Violin Sonata in E-flat, K481 (1785), had the effect of Frang receding: Tashkent-born Lifits played as if on solid ground and the Oslo violinist looked happy to let him dominate, especially in the crisply articulated Allegretto. Beethoven’s A-Major Sonata, Op. 30/1 (1802), after the Pause, suffered slow tempos and a lack of drama.

Where the Salzburg Festival goes now, post Pereira, will be partly evident next month when the 2015 summer plans are announced. In all likelihood there will be cost-cutting to counter past overages, such as for 2013 when a reported $5 million went out the door beyond the approved $76 million. Once Hinterhäuser fills the Intendant void, the danger is of a well-bookkept but artistically dithering institution — a return, in effect, to qualities of the ten summers preceding Pereira’s 2012 arrival; Hinterhäuser, a pianist, participated in management for some of those years and is not known as a forceful character. The compass at present is with Sven-Eric Bechtolf, grandly styled “Artistic Master Planner 2015 and 2016” (a promotion from heading just the theater programming), and the festival’s indomitable Cost-Cutter-in-Chief, a.k.a. Präsidentin, Helga Rabl-Stadler.

Photo © Silvia Lelli

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Festive Sides

Friday, August 29th, 2014

West relief and mosaic tympana of the National Theater in Munich

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: August 29, 2014

MUNICH — Staged works and the legendary Lied evenings hold the limelight here at the annual Opernfestspiele, begun 139 years ago. But veins of chamber music and, since 2008, choral programming run through the five-week schedule, lending scope and affirming organizer Bayerische Staatsoper’s depth of musicianship. The chamber offerings can be hit or miss, depending on the precise collaborations of Staatsorchester members and their scores; string trios on July 24 proved a hit. The choral initiatives attempt to thread back to the company’s 16th-century roots as a Kantorei, drawing on Staatsopernchor members passionate about church repertory; Rossini’s Petite messe solennelle on July 23 proved a stretch.

David Schultheiß (violin), Adrian Mustea (viola) and Allan Bergius (cello) teamed collegially at the ornate Cuvilliés Theater. Their nervous way with Beethoven’s C-Minor Trio from Opus 9 left the 1798 piece sounding brittle and oddly pale, but in Dohnányi’s charming, unpredictable, five-movement Serenade in C (1902) things shifted into vibrant high gear underpinned by Bergius (who once had another career), peaking in the chromatically salted Scherzo. Mozart’s E-flat Divertimento, K563 (1788), with its searching Adagio and rich minuet movements, served as flattering vehicle for the stylish and technically assured work of Schultheiß, one of the orchestra’s concertmasters. Mustea’s unusually resonant viola, here and throughout, provided a firm sense of ensemble and ensured a memorable night.

The 1863 Mass was a feasible festival choice for the reborn “Münchner Hofkantorei,” not needing an orchestra. Even so, its ironic jolts and the matter of choral direction versus leadership by the principal piano tended to defeat efforts at the Court Church of All Saints. Staatsopernchor member Wolfgang Antesberger aptly paced the score and directed robust performances of the Gloria and Credo choruses. But Rossini leaves much of the initiative to the first pianist, requiring bold propulsion and phrasing that Sophie Raynaud at times lacked, although her Prélude religieux took good shape. Solo singing varied widely in quality and approach.

Photo © Wilfried Hösl

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Arcanto: One Piece at a Time

Friday, January 31st, 2014

Arcanto Quartet

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: January 31, 2014

MUNICH — The 11-year-old Arcanto Quartet, heard here last Friday (Jan. 24), is everything a chamber group shouldn’t be for promotional purposes. There are no family ties. Their instruments don’t match. They share no doctrine about period practice. They don’t grind out whole cycles of anyone’s music. Not surprisingly their U.S. debuts in 2010 passed with only modest fanfare: the Washington Post reviewer found himself split yet intrigued while The New York Times gave no coverage at all. Happily the Arcanto’s record label, Arles-based Harmonia Mundi, favors substance over flack and has documented their work in Mozart, Schubert and Bartók. The latter disc took a Preis der deutschen Schallplattenkritik.

Anchored by Jean-Guihen Queyras’s nimble cello and the resonant viola of Tabea Zimmermann, the group produces a centered, refined, light sound. Three centuries happen to separate the instruments used by these two members: Queyras, longtime soloist at IRCAM in Paris, plays a 1696 Cappa. But this detail seems incidental. Antje Weithaas, artistic leader of the Camerata Bern, and Daniel Sepec, concertmaster for the Deutsche Kammer-Philharmonie Bremen, are the sweet-toned violinists. Twenty-five months ago, here at the Prince Regent Theater, the Arcanto achieved minor miracles in Ravel’s Quartet in F Major before partnering Jörg Widmann for an ardent, haunting traversal of the Brahms Clarinet Quintet. The finicky Bavarian crowd roared its approval.

Last Friday’s visit, with the final quartets (1826) of Beethoven and Schubert, took place in the cool vaulted milieu of the Court Church of All Saints, diligently filled by presenter Bell’Arte. Versatile, nuanced playing proved that each work had been considered on its own terms: the F-Major Beethoven (Opus 135) characterized by nonchalance, the grander G-Major Schubert (D887) by an emphasis on fractionalized ideas that shadow late initiatives of the elder composer.

Beethoven’s Lento assai, cantante e tranquillo ruminated in a contented, consoling way. Queyras launched the lyrical second subject of the Muss es sein? movement with spry point, matched by Zimmermann. As Weithaas danced gleefully over the music’s last measures, after the shared pizzicato, the ensemble built cheerful true resolution not only of the immediate material but of the whole score. The Schubert received an intriguing performance. Ghoulish drama laced its Andante; delicate understated voices emerged lucidly in the Trio. In the passionate sections of the last movement, Allegro assai, the players found power in especially intense collaboration. The same composer’s Quartettsatz of 1820 (D703) served as recital opener, guided with spontaneity and considerable elegance by Weithaas.

Photo © Marco Borggreve

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Tutzing Returns to Brahms

Wednesday, October 16th, 2013

Löwenterrasse in Tutzing’s Schlosspark on Lake Starnberg

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: October 16, 2013

MUNICH — Some festivals strive to be on your radar twelve months of the year, with unending publicity. Others revel in a few days.

Take the annual Brahms Days in tranquil Tutzing, south of here on Lake Starnberg. Its scale is intimate, its setting gemütlich. Its focus — at least in theory — is on chamber music of the Hamburg composer, who penned his Haydn Variations and finalized his first string quartets during a long summer in the town.

At this year’s opening recital (Oct. 13), attended by state and federal dignitaries, Lena Neudauer and Florian Uhlig wove their way through violin sonatas of Beethoven, Ravel and Brahms in the Evangelische Akademie, a breezy former palace and U.S. Army HQ.

Neudauer’s confident, relaxed way with Beethoven’s E-flat Violin Sonata, Opus 12/3, emerged in burnished sound, gutsy more than sweet. Uhlig, on a small Steinway grand (perhaps a Model S), played loudly. Technically assured violin work in the Ravel Sonata in G Major (1927) — made amusing by Neudauer in its “Blues” movement and brilliantly sustained by her in its final measures — suffered again from stridency, this time on the part of both musicians.

An overlong intermission led into Joachim Raff’s syrupy reduction of Tannhäuser themes (from his Three Duos on Wagner Motifs, Opus 63), written six years after the opera. Uhlig must have discovered sensitivity during the break because now his playing took on a softer, more probing manner, and in the concluding Brahms work, the Opus 78 (1879), again in G Major, we heard a masterpiece masterfully realized.

Brahms Days programming this year has more depth than in 2012, but the festival still falls short of its potential.

Organizers plan around three Sunday evenings in the palace — with lake and Alpine views, savored by Brahms (and Eisenhower and others) — but this spacing, with funding for just five events, misses the chance to unite visitors and musicians in a vibrant and immersive exploration of the composer’s non-orchestral music.

Dilution of the schedule is matched by dilution in the programs. Tango, Brahms-based jazz (what?) and music by Heinrich von Herzogenberg (who?) have found a place in Brahms Days during the last five years. Yet of Brahms’s two dozen sonatas, trios, quartets, quintets and sextets — works of genius — only nine have been heard at the festival in the same long period. Brahms’s art-song output has fared better, with full cycles of the Magelone-Lieder, the Zigeunerlieder and the Vier ernste Gesänge. But not his keyboard music, equally suited to these events.

Checklist of the missing: the popular horn trio, all the piano trios, three sonatas, two of the three string quartets, the four luminous late collections of piano music, and dozens of songs.

Tutzing offers several venues, agreeable fall weather, a bona fide Brahms connection, and a ready audience from Munich and elsewhere. With imagination, the present runs of recital dates could evolve into a unique (and world-class) annual gathering.

Photo © Evangelische Akademie Tutzing

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Modern Treats, and Andsnes

Sunday, October 6th, 2013

Eivind Gullberg Jensen

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: October 6, 2013

MUNICH — The 1909 candy-box essays by Schönberg and Webern, Fünf Orchesterstücke and Sechs Stücke, can pass by gratuitously in uncommitted hands. Not so yesterday (Oct. 5) in a Munich Philharmonic program pairing them with Beethoven concertos.

Norwegian conductor Eivind Gullberg Jensen, calm and assured, drew incisive, expressive performances. It has been a few seasons since we heard the orchestra on such form: the sly curlicues and jocular punches of Schönberg’s (Opus 16) First Piece contrasting bluntly with the foggy stasis and lunacy of his Third and Fourth; Webern’s sparing, pastoral collection (Opus 6) emerging in uncompromised dynamic extremes, much challenged by the Munich concert hall’s acoustics. A rare treat.

Leif Ove Andsnes’s luxuriant traversals of Beethoven’s Second and Fourth Piano Concertos felt like afterthoughts in context. Gullberg Jensen enforced elegance in the accompaniment to the awkward Second (in B-flat) after the Schönberg, at tempos somewhat drawn out. In the Fourth (G Major), which followed the Webern and was again taken leisurely, but with a firm pulse, Andsnes made impeccable sense of the lines and related Beethoven’s thoughts handsomely to each other. The MPhil played just as well in the concertos, reduced to half its size after the Modern scores.

Many seats were empty. It appears that the Lorin Maazel tenure is a negative for subscriber box-office, and high single-ticket prices deter spontaneous attendance at the disfigured 1985 Gasteig venue, even to hear a star pianist. The marketing staff must wish a pox on the city bureaucrats who drove former Generalmusikdirektor Christian Thielemann to Dresden.

Still image from video © Philharmonie Luxembourg

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Martha Argerich at the Musikfest

Friday, September 20th, 2013

By Rebecca Schmid

The Musikfest, Berlin’s 20th-century music festival, took a welcome occasion to revisit the opus of Lutosławski upon his centenary this year. Following the appearances of guest ensembles such as the Royal Concertgebouw, Philharmonia Orchestra and Bavarian Radio Symphony, the Staatskapelle Berlin performed his Mi-Parti (1976) under Music Director Daniel Barenboim alongside works by Beethoven and Verdi at the Philharmonie on September 15. The main event, however, was the appearance of Martha Argerich as soloist. The pianist is famous for her last-minute cancellations; health problems in recent years have further diminished public performances. She seemed in high spirits, however, as she and Barenboim took the stage. It is not to any pianist that he would cede the bench, having made the Beethoven Concertos something of a signature in performances which he has conducted from the piano with both his own orchestra and the Berlin Philharmonic.

Argerich’s touch can be feather-light or bold and spontaneous, much like Barenboim, but never sloppy. She created a playful atmosphere in the opening movement of Beethoven’s First Piano Concerto, in C-major, which reflects the composer’s high spirits shortly after arriving in Vienna. The orchestra responded with a hefty but elegant sound. In the following Largo, Argerich’s pianissimo was uncanny in its gentle quality that nevertheless carried to back of the hall. The strings of the Staatskapelle in fact struggled to match its beauty until the end of the movement, while solo clarinet passages were sensitively phrased. The musicians’ energy exploded in the Rondo. Barenboim revealed one of his main strengths as he leaned back and let the orchestra go, only to dig in unexpectedly to create powerful climaxes. At times he was clearly following Argerich’s lead as she swept through the galloping chords with a tremendous freedom but immaculate articulation.

In the wake of thunderous applause, Barenboim had to grab her elbow and force her to bow a second time. He also coaxed her to give an encore before joining for a four-hand work by Schubert. Their rapport was evident in the easy coordination between registers and homogenous phrasing, although Barenboim seemed to enjoy the spotlight more than Argerich. Mi-Parti, one of the most important works from Lutosławski’s middle period, opened the program in a finely-wrought execution which speaks to the care Barenboim has invested in every section of the orchestra over nearly two decades. The strings created a transparent, glassy backdrop for the fragmented entrances of individual wind instruments, a tapestry which recurs in a rigorous structure emulating medieval fabric that is colored differently on either side.

The coda evokes a spiritual realm, moving from a celeste and harp rhythms that are picked up by the timpani until the harp is plucked over muted but screeching strings. Verdi’s Quattro pezzi sacri (Four sacred songs), alternating devotional a-cappella with fully scored operatic drama, were more uneven in performance. The first sopranos of the Rundfunkchor Berlin sounded uncharacteristically under the weather in numbers such as Ave Maria and Laudi alle Vergine Maria, while the brass section in numbers such as Stabat Mater was slightly too Wagnerian for this listener. Nevertheless, it was impossible to resist the dramatic power of the final Te Deum as a male a-capella ensemble cedes to full chorus and orchestra, a direct expression of the personal faith Verdi managed to sublimate in his art.

New York Rites

Friday, September 21st, 2012

By Rebecca Schmid

In Berlin, where contemporary music thrives from the Philharmonie to off spaces, it is a widespread perception that New York’s mainstream institutions are afraid to program anything past Stravinsky. A look at Alan Gilbert’s recent undertakings with the New York Philharmonic, notably in a hugely successful “360” concert of Mozart, Stockhausen, Boulez and Ives in June that exploited the full space of Park Avenue Armory and was streamed live on medici.tv, reveals the idea to be a fallacy. Yet it is ironic that the orchestra’s new season has kicked off with a tribute to Le Sacre du Printemps (The Rite of Spring). The concert is only the first of many events that will commemorate the centenary of Stravinsky’s ballet, which falls on May 29 of next year.

As with many works that have shaped the canon, the work was a scandal upon its Paris premiere. Choreography by Vaslav Nijinsky reportedly set off physical fights in the audience, perhaps a response to the primitive energy that Stravinsky’s music launched onstage—a far cry from the cultivated elegance high society expected to encounter on the Champs-Elysées. Le Sacre has since become one of the most widely recorded and well-known 20th-century works. Even if it doesn’t feel monumental, in the right hands, it is still hard to resist the score’s raw power.

Alan Gilbert and the Philharmonic, seen at Avery Fisher Hall on September 19, made a strong account for venerating Stravinsky, investing ripping strings and grinding rhythms with the animalistic vigor that turns this music into a pagan feast. The painterly dissonances of “The Sacrifice” emerged with ethereal mystery, while the players invested the metallic, stabbing attacks of the final “Sacrificial Dance” with unrepressed drive. The delicate, overlapping wind solos of the opening “Adoration of the Earth” emerged with unpretentious clarity before ceding to the mechanical churning of the “Augurs of the Spring” that effectively wipes the unconscious of its need for soothing classical idioms.

Beethoven’s Third Piano Concerto, performed with Leif Ove Andsnes, received a less unified, persuasive interpretation. Andsnes could not quite match the heat of the Philharmonic in the opening Allegro, although his clean, incisive pianissimi nearly redeemed the performance. He and Gilbert communicated effortlessly, and yet the emotional arc from inner torment to Mozartean bitter-sweetness at times lacked conviction. The inner Largo movement felt a bit studied despite the orchestra’s sensitive phrasing, while the players’ tempered use of bombast was well suited to the final Rondo in its stormy pursuit of light-heartedness. Andsnes brought a natural, although not terribly spontaneous, playfulness to his final solo passages.

Opening the program was Kurtag’s …quasi una fantasia…for Piano and Groups of Instruments, an approximately 10-minute work that calls for the distribution of instrument clusters around the performance space while the pianist (Andnes) remains onstage in pseudo-concerto style. The rustling percussion and sparse descending piano melodies that open the piece would have been even stronger with the lights dimmed, but even more importantly than visual aesthetics, Avery Fisher Hall did not provide ideal acoustics. The snare drums behind me at one point overwhelmed the timpani onstage. Gilbert nevertheless coordinated the work with care, allowing sensuous sighing melodies to linger as strongly as the battery of percussion.

Although the piece is not tailor made for Avery Fisher Hall, Gilbert is making a concerted effort to seduce his audience base into what many listeners would consider unusual repertoire, and one hopes that he will succeed. It takes vision, charisma and daring but sound artistic choices to guide an orchestra through the current age of economic uncertainty and cultural levelling. And if Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring can teach us anything, it is that challenging the status quo is sometimes the only way to make artistic progress. As I descended into the subway after the concert, the flute melody from the opening “Adoration of the Earth” hovered mystically. It was of course just a busking musician. Even if New York does not meet the expectations of more academically-minded new music connoisseurs, one can´t deny its magic.

Opening words…

Thursday, April 5th, 2012

By Rebecca Schmid

The author Karl Scheffler famously described Berlin as condemned to forever becoming but never being. When I arrived here nearly two years ago as a DAAD grantee in journalism, the city sprawled out like an unfinished collage. The Philharmonie on the gleaming, rebuilt Potsdamer Platz where I heard Daniel Barenboim perform and conduct Beethoven’s Emperor Concerto seemed a world away from the gritty Kreuzberg district across town, where musical experimentalism thrived as an end in itself: Baroque + Yoga??

The opera houses also eluded me. After sitting through a production of Offenbach’s “La Périchole” at the Komische Oper—in German and otherwise heavily edited by the director—and  a “Don Giovanni” at the Deutsche Oper that had me fuming days later, I wondered how fate had ordained me to end up in a city that considered half-naked cabaret appropriate for Mozart (I experienced my first operas in the relatively ‘conservative’ cities of New York, Zürich and Paris).

With time, the city has gained coherence, and other aspects of musical life here—the generous programming of contemporary repertoire across institutions both mainstream and alternative, the seamless integration of classical music into the urban fabric, the sheer variety of events —have proved redeeming. By force of nature I’ve also developed a better appreciation for the risk-taking in matters of Musiktheater (and seen some Wagner productions that could beat New York or Paris any day).

Berlin is, as it apparently always has been, in search of identity. It is a very exciting time to be here as the city reclaims its roots as a bastion of multi-culturalism and all things avant-garde. My blog will cover live performance; new recordings and books; as well as classical music industry news in Germany and beyond. With institutions in flux across the globe, one wonders if Scheffler’s reflection extends well beyond Berlin—we are all eager to understand what classical music is becoming. Hopefully, my posts from the German capital will serve as a useful part of that dialogue.