RSNO, 23/11/2013

Messiaen : Les offrandes oubliées
Beethoven : Piano Concerto No. 5 "Emperor" (Nikolai Lugansky, piano)
Rachmaninoff : Symphonic Dances


Royal Scottish National Orchestra
Peter Oundjian


Les offrandes oubliées was Olivier Messiaen's first published orchestral work, dating from 1930, with the composer fresh out of the Paris Conservatoire, and as such, I found it something of an eye-opener.  I have a passing familiarity with most of Messiaen's major pieces, but they start a good five or six years later, and Messiaen clearly did a good deal of developing very fast.  These "forgotten offerings" come in three parts; a contemplative, mournful opening section, a brutal, rhythmic central one, and a serene, floating final section that drifts off into the ether, a contemplation of eternity, a common theme in Messiaen's music.  Instantly recognisable, too, is the type of melody he creates in the first section, modal, plangent, apparently meandering, while the violin song over a hushed chordal accompaniment of the final section seems to look forward to the achingly beautiful last movement of the Quatuor pour la Fin du Temps.  What was unexpected, and particularly interesting, was the shadow of the late 19th Century French orchestral masters in the music, particularly at the start.  We're so used to thinking of Messiaen as a revolutionary figure, and he was, but clearly he did not spring fully formed, so to speak.  A very intriguing opening to the evening.

Nikolai Lugansky's Beethoven was confident, yet curiously rhapsodic, with a good deal of flexibility of tempo, notably in the first movement.  I was, however, unfortunately distracted by the slightly blurred playing of the orchestral strings.  That triplet figure that is so integral to the principal theme of the first movement was rarely heard completely cleanly, and it nagged like a mild toothache.  It was especially obvious given that the pianist also plays it repeatedly, and it's impossible to blur it on the keyboard, particularly with as good articulation as Lugansky always displays.  The second movement was a moment of gentle reflection, before pianist and orchestra bounded gleefully into the final rondo, rhythmically robust, energetic without aggression, and my reservations about the orchestra's playing had disappeared by this point, leaving only enjoyment.

As a counterweight to the early Messiaen, the concert ended with Rachmaninoff's last, and greatest orchestral work, the Symphonic Dances.  It's a suite in three movements, and when Rachmaninoff began work on it, he wanted to call it Fantastic Dances.  Effectively, without resembling it in the slightest, there is a sort of kinship with the Turina, they inhabit a similar, somewhat surreal world, heavily shadowed by something more than a little sinister, and yet triumphant for all that.  The first movement of the Rachmaninoff again showed a touch of blurring in the strings; the insistent, chugging rhythms were not always as clean as they could have been.

However, the other two movements were excellent.  The second movement is a bizarre waltz, an unsettling hybrid child of Ravel's apocalyptic La Valse, and Sibelius's spectral Valse triste, while the last movement is a danse macabre, Rachmaninoff's favourite Dies irae theme flittering in and out of the orchestral texture, in different guises, until finally standing out boldly, revealing Death as the Master of Ceremonies.  This last movement was absolutely gripping, teasing and haunting, perfectly paced, grimly exuberant and wholly memorable.

[Next : 5th December]