Stravinsky, Chausson, Ravel, Rachmaninov
I attended an unplanned concert at the Moscow Conservatory – the 75th Anniversary Concert of the Russian State Symphony Orchestra. When I was deciding what concerts interested me this month, this concert had a different program and conductor, and so I had marked it off the list. But it seems that all that changed while I was away from Moscow. I swung by the afternoon before the concert to see if any tickets would be available, and there were a few left up in the top level of the second balcony (but the hall has great acoustics, so this only meant it was hard to see the orchestra, but I could hear just fine).
This is the orchestra Yevgeny Svetlanov led for 35 years before he was fired in 2000 (after Putin came in), when the Ministry of Culture suddenly questioned his patriotism. Mark Gorenstein, an impossibly dull Soviet wand-waver, was appointed to replace him. The Orchestra musicians have been miserable ever since (but stay because the orchestra pays relatively very well for Russia). Finally this Summer the musicians got up the courage to demand that Gorenstein be fired. When this did not happen, they simply refused to show up for rehearsals this Fall, and all of their concerts this season have been canceled one-by-one as a result. Two weeks ago, while I was away, Gorenstein got the axe and the young and dynamic Vladimir Jurowski was appointed in his place effective immediately. Today was Jurowski’s first appearance with the orchestra in his new position.
The program opened with Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite. This is still the most Russian-sounding of orchestras, and the flagship of the state orchestra system, so it was fitting to open the anniversary concert with a showpiece. Jurowski made the most of it, generating excitement with each scene in the suite. If he had added the entire ballet as an encore, no one in this audience (nor in the orchestra) would have objected. I have a soft-spot for this piece, since I think it was the first recording I ever owned as a child (with Erich Leinsdorf and the Boston Symphony Orchestra – a birthday present from my sister). Hearing it fresh tonight, with a fully-charged orchestra and conductor happy to be there, made me remember the joy and excitement of putting on that record for the first time way back in my childhood.
After this thrilling start, the concert unfortunately shifted to French composers. The choice for the next two pieces was curious, since they certainly do not figure in the core repertory for this orchestra, nor should they figure in the core repertory for any orchestra. While, starting in the mid-19th Century, Russia discovered classical music and has since produced enormous quantities of exciting material (possibly the only civilized thing the Russians do produce), France has inexplicably seemed incapable of having any composer other than Berlioz (whom the French ridiculed for his admiration of Beethoven) capable of consistently producing music of any reasonable quality. The French never cease to amaze me just how dull the music is that they write – and I keep listening to new pieces just hoping something will come along to break the monotony, but it never does.
So tonight we had two pieces for violin and orchestra: the Poem for Violin and Orchestra by Ernest Chausson and the Gypsy Concert Rhapsody by Maurice Ravel. Julia Fischer was the soloist. Try as she, Jurowski, and the orchestra might, nothing they could do could bring these works to life. And boy did they try. Technically, they all played very well. Fischer proved very adept. The audience dozed, and awoke at the end of each piece to give a polite golf-tournament-style applause most notable for its contrast with the roaring applause which had greeted the Stravinsky.
After the intermission, the orchestra returned to Russian music with Rachmaninov’s Symphonic Dances. These are less dance music and more somewhat-eccentric post-Scriabin-esque studies in orchestral color that Rachmaninov wrote shortly before he died. Jurowski and the orchestra kept the movements moving along, exploring their tones and rhythms until the end of the third dance, which sounded like it represented the composer taking a hop, skip, and a jump into the grave. Never has the Dies Irae sounded so whimsical. Jurowski applauded his new orchestra, the orchestra applauded Jurowski, and the audience applauded both. This applause went on for a while.