RSNO, 3/12/2011

Debussy: Printemps
Shostakovich : Piano Concerto No. 1 (Steven Osborne)
Debussy: Jeux
Shostakovich : Piano Concerto No. 2 (Steven Osborne)

Royal Scottish National Orchestra
Stéphane Denève

The interesting thing about this programming was that the works stand in pretty much the same position in their respective composers' lives, the first an early work from a rising star, the second written some 25 years later by a mature creator.  That said, there's little in common between them, and the comparison does make Shostakovich look a little more retrograde than he truly deserves.  Had the comparison been made with, say, the 4th and 11th Symphonies of Shostakovich, the development in the Russian's style might have been more evident, whereas the evolution between the Debussy pieces is truly spectacular.

I've known Printemps for some time, but never seen it; it was intriguing, to say the least, to find that what comes across in recordings as the nearest Debussy ever got to a piano concerto is really nothing of the sort, and that the piano part is for four hands, not two.  Also, the orchestration is not actually by Debussy, though done under his supervision in 1912.  It's a little hard to tell what might actually have been had Debussy finished the job at the time of composition; there are certainly Wagnerian touches, but I heard something here I've not noticed before, and that is that Printemps musical child is unquestionably Charpentier's Louise.  Given that Louise was premiered in 1900 (but was commenced, like Printemps, at the Villa Médicis, just a couple of years later) I couldn't help wondering if the orchestrator, Henri Büsser (who was Dutilleux's teacher) wasn't operating somewhat under the influence.  A question to which I'm not likely to get any answers, and which did not affect my enjoyment of the piece.

Jeux is a rather different matter.  It is Debussy's last major orchestral score, and one of his most enigmatic.  Denève made a big point about it being a ballet, and not being the abstract piece it's often depicted as.  I have to disagree somewhat - although it follows a programme, it doesn't really tell a story.  I've seen Jeux as a ballet on a couple of occasions, and although there is activity, there is no plot.  In fact, does what happens really happen?  Or is the ball that bounces on stage at the start the same ball as bounces on stage at the end, and the action in between merely a dream or a fantasy?  Usually, I've found the choreography more distracting than illuminating, and infinitely prefer concert versions.

Denève chose to emphasise the dance rhythms in his reading, which was quite a heated one, playing up the lusher aspects of the score, and making it rather less nocturnal than I've heard it, but it was a perfectly valid choice, and he defended it well.  One or two blurred edges in the playing, but on the whole a convincing performance.

Hearing Shostakovich's two piano concertos in the same programme was definitely a new experience.  As mentioned earlier, Shostakovich seems almost to be taking a step back, rather than forward, between the two pieces, though under the circumstances it's not too surprising.  The 1st concerto was written for himself in 1933, when he was still (more or less) the Golden Boy of the Soviet musical establishment, three years before his fall from grace.  The 2nd dates from 1957, when Stalin's death may have freed him from the worst of the repression he suffered (though he would never be completely free of the cloud of suspicion), but written also for a more relaxed occasion than usual, his son's birthday.

The 1st Concerto is certainly a rather madcap piece, edgy and sarcastic, the trumpet part (taken by the orchestra's principal trumpet, John Gracie) not exactly a second soloist, but more like a (frequently rude) commentator.  Steven Osborne negotiated the brightly discordant, cheerfully vulgar style with aplomb, as he did the more light-hearted solo part of the 2nd Concerto.  This was particularly well-served by the orchestra, and avoided undue affectation in the gentle, twilight promenade of the second movement.  Shostakovich being sentimental can sometimes come across as saccharine, often  ironically, even mockingly so, but that was a pitfall neatly side-stepped tonight.  The last movement's brilliant cascades of chromatic sequences, cocking a snook at the academic finger exercises that were probably all-too familiar to the young Maxim Shostakovich, were zipped through at a breathtaking pace and with exemplary clarity.

[Next event: 8th December.  Possible event: 5th December]