Elgar : Introduction and Allegro for Strings
Stravinsky : The Firebird - Suite (1919)
Ravel : Piano Concerto in G major (Steven Osborne, piano)
Respighi : The Pines of Rome
Royal Scottish National Orchestra
Peter Oundjian
This was an interesting programme, all the pieces dating from the 1st quarter of the 20th Century, all exploring new sonorities in the orchestra of their time, beginning with one of Elgar's finest works, which was both a commission to show off the strings of the newly minted London Symphony Orchestra, and a nod in the direction of the neo-classical zeitgeist, as the piece is roughly in the form of a concerto grosso. Oundjian is generally good at early 20th Century English music, and both the rich, open sound of the strings, and the sense of the polyphony, were completely appropriate for the piece. What I missed was a clearer sense of the string quartet soloists; they blended too much into the general body of strings.
Reputedly, Diaghilev had originally entrusted the score of his projected new ballet The Firebird to Anatoly Liadov, a much respected Russian composer and teacher, but Liadov's legendary indolence delayed delivery to a point where Diaghilev lost patience and contacted the 26-year old Stravinsky, then largely unknown. The rest, as they say, is history. In fact, it's not at all certain Liadov ever accepted Diaghilev's commission in the first place, but while a Firebird from his pen would not have lacked interest, we have hardly lost in the exchange. The young Stravinsky is still steeped in tradition, and the weave and colours of his music immediately conjure up not just the Fokine ballet, but the vivid folkloric images of Ivan Bilibin. The performance tonight, while generally good, lacked a certain degree of theatricality, the wilful exaggeration necessary in order to convey thought and gesture - in short, it was a bit too well-behaved, instead of convincingly conjuring up fantastical creatures, gloomy forests and lovelorn princes and princesses.
Steven Osborne is an elegant, light-fingered pianist with a clear, delicate touch well-suited to the whimsy of the Ravel G major concerto. It's a good piece to put alongside early Stravinsky, because the start has always reminded me of the fairground music of Petrushka, as if it was a similar scene but seen through Ravel's eyes. Osborne and the orchestra fairly danced through the outer movements, but the long, melancholy piano solo that opens the 2nd movement was so complete in and of itself that the orchestra seemed almost intrusive there.
Like Stravinsky, Respighi was, at least for a short while, a student of Rimsky-Korsakov, and it certainly shows in his handling of orchestral colour. He was perhaps the only true Italian Impressionist composer, but the key point is that he was Italian. The term Impressionism immediately conjures up the subtle, aqueous tints of the French repertory, but Respighi revels in the heat and light of the Roman landscape, and for the first time this evening, I really got the feeling that the orchestra was actually enjoying itself with this opulent, expansive score. The brass and woodwinds are particularly called upon throughout, from the glittering whirl of the opening movement to the imposing march of the last. However, the strings made the most of their opportunities too. The Janiculum third movement was given a lush, romantic reading, full of moonlight and allure. As usual, though, it was the thundering, inexorable beat and the gleaming fanfares of the legionaries on the Appian Way that brought the house down.
[Next : 4th December]
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