RSNO, 16/04/2016

Rachmaninoff : Caprice bohémien
Prokofiev : Piano Concerto No. 4, for the left hand (Nikolai Lugansky, piano)
Prokofiev : Suite from Cinderella

Royal Scottish National Orchestra
Alexander Lazarev

Despite the numerous rather po-faced photographs that exist of Serge Rachmaninoff, he was, apparently, perfectly capable of appreciating a good joke, but you wouldn't know it from this early orchestral work either, composed when he was about 20.  The orchestration is heavy, the mood is rarely cheerful (and certainly not capricious), Rachmaninoff's lush melodic gift does not appear to have flowered as yet, and even he marked the central section "lugubrious", which it definitely is.  Although this "fantasy on gypsy themes" ends on a more lively note, a brooding shadow remains hanging over it, and despite Lazarev's visible enthusiasm for the piece, I can't say I was sold on it.  The short opera Aleko, which dates from around the same period, is a more interesting and more successful composition, in my opinion, while the Caprice bohémien seems like a curiosity, which will need a more persuasive performance than this to raise its status for me.

Prokofiev's 4th Piano Concerto, like the Ravel D major heard last week, was a commission from Paul Wittgenstein, the Austrian pianist who lost his right arm in 1914, but determined to continue his career despite his handicap.  Unlike the rich textures of the Ravel, the Prokofiev piece is light and subtle, almost delicate, the left hand drawing filigree patterns over the chamber orchestra's playing, requiring crystal-clear precision from the pianist.  Nikolai Lugansky was the ideal interpreter for this, his playing beautifully articulate, apparently effortless, every phrase deftly shaped, the outer movements graceful, evanescent bookends for the more lyrical inner movements.  This was a superb performance, elegant and expressive, exactly what one expects from this wonderful pianist.

Lazarev was Music Director of the RSNO from 1997 to 2005, and it's fair to say he taught the orchestra to 'play Russian' when necessary.  He was also, prior to that period, Artistic Director of the Bolshoi Theatre, conducting both opera and ballet performances.  Although what we heard of Cinderella was a sort of suite adapted from music drawn primarily from the first two acts of the ballet, with numerous links and passages that are not actually part of the original score, but devised to make a cohesive whole of the compilation, the theatre was still very much present, particularly in the ever-increasing tempo of the Pas du châle, as the quarrel of the stepsisters over the embroidered shawl grows ever more vicious, or in the powerful whirl of the "Midnight" Waltz.  Once or twice, the sweep of a phrase from the violins was a little thin, but mostly this glittering score was very well served, by turns sweet and spiky, humorous or anguished, diaphanous or full-blooded, and always absorbing.  At times, while conducting, Lazarev would turn towards the audience, arms spread wide, as if to say, "Listen to this, isn't it marvellous?!"  Well, yes, it was.

[Next : 21st April]