Review: London Philharmonic Boldly Reinterprets Mahler and Other Staples
|
Version 0 of 1. You can understand why musicians are tempted to make a repertory staple stand out in some way. But it’s easy to go too far. A performance can come across as indulgent, even distorted. When backed by insight, though, bold interpretive touches can make a familiar piece seem almost new. This happened twice during the latest visit to David Geffen Hall by the excellent London Philharmonic Orchestra, led by its dynamic principal conductor, Vladimir Jurowski. One example came during the ensemble’s first program on Sunday: an intrepid account of Mahler’s Fourth Symphony. The other came on Monday when the violinist Patricia Kopatchinskaja, an artist of fierce originality, played Prokofiev’s Violin Concerto No. 2 on her own terms, supported by Mr. Jurowski and his willing players. Among Mahler’s cosmic set of symphonies, the Fourth has come to seem, by comparison, the most sunlit and approachable, especially in its final movement, a setting for soprano of a poem from the “Des Knaben Wunderhorn” collection, which offers a child’s naïve vision of heavenly life. But in this performance Mr. Jurowski seemed intent on showing the score’s links to the thornier, more disturbing side of Mahler. He emphasized the unnerving undercurrents of the music’s seemingly rustic moments, like the chirping, restless woodwinds and sleigh bells that open the first movement and keep coming back. Mr. Jurowski had a similar effect on the deceptively playful character of the scherzo, a movement Mahler once called “Death Strikes Up,” with its eerie fiddle tune. Even more fascinating was the way Mr. Jurowski brought attention to the teeming crosscurrents and disruptions that run through the entire work. In the development section of the first movement, blurted-out fragments, frenetic outbursts and overlapping lines came across with startling emphasis. Even the radiant, melancholic Adagio, a flowing set of variations on a sublime theme, unfolded with unusual halts and moments of tension. Mr. Jurowski made the most of nervous bits, especially the treading bass line, which seemed, more than ever, a warning. The soprano Sofia Fomina, in her New York debut, sang the solo in the final movement. Though her modest voice has a sweet quality, her singing on this afternoon seemed tentative and sometimes thin. Ms. Kopatchinskaja, who combines blazing virtuosity with ferocious instincts, did not disappoint in Prokofiev’s Second Concerto. This 1935 work offers Prokofiev in his more direct, Neo-Classical mode. But from the ominous statement of the first movement’s theme, Ms. Kopatchinskaja — performing in her bare feet and a loosefitting, modish outfit — conveyed the music’s spectral strangeness and volatility. Floods of passagework seemed here macabre streams. In the slow movement, she shifted from pale-toned lyrical stretches to bouts of chords that touched the realm of grotesquerie. The finale emerged as a raucous, rowdy dance. The soloist on Sunday afternoon’s program could not have been more different: Jan Lisiecki, the splendid 21-year-old pianist known for his consummate technique and sensitivity, played Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor. Chopin has been central to Mr. Lisiecki’s career since he came to attention as a young teenager. Perhaps he’s getting a little tired of being referred to as poetic. During stretches of this performance, Mr. Lisiecki ripped into forceful passages, dispensing burly chords and whiplash runs with steely sound and muscular energy. Sometimes these moments seemed overly driven. He was at his best during the, yes, poetic moments of the music. Mr. Lisiecki took off with abandon during the concerto’s episodes of fleet runs and complex passagework, executed with uncanny clarity and speed. At times, the result was almost sensory overload: More give in his tempo choices might have been even more exciting. Still, if at times too impulsive, the performance was consistently impressive. Mr. Lisiecki is becoming a major artist. Both programs began with little-known and charming short works by Glinka. Monday’s ended with a fervent account of Rachmaninoff’s youthful First Symphony. Mr. Jurowski may have pushed the brassy, pummeling final coda to dinlike levels of loudness, yet he certainly had this London ensemble sounding like a Russian orchestra. |