Times have changed. I’m old enough to remember when the summer season, all over the world, was musically dead, except for the odd and marvelous music festival few of us had access to. I remember dreaming of Marlboro and Tanglewood, which were usually thousands of miles away from wherever I happened to be. Even when I lived in the US for a few years, I was so busy taking care of my house and husband and children that there was absolutely no way I could get away. If the geographical distance was then perfectly negotiable, my time was completely taken up by household and family endeavors. I had then just taken up the cello and was a musical “nouvelle riche”, who craved to rub shoulders with anyone who could play better than I could, and, believe me, that was not difficult to find. The longing to be one of the festival crowd brought tears of excitement and, subsequently, of frustration to my eyes. But let me check myself before I embark on my personal reminiscences which have absolutely nothing to do with the Berlin summer season.
As I was saying, times have changed. Not only are there now hundreds, if not thousands, of music festivals everywhere, but summer music has suddenly sprung alive in big capitals as well. Classical musicians are now busy year-round, and this has probably made their life more difficult, as they can no longer take the whole summer off to teach or explore new repertoire or simply to relax. New York’s Mostly Mozart Festival is a case in point. But one can hear sounds in Vienna, in Prague, in Paris, in London, and, of course, in Berlin, the most musical place of all. Just a small digression: when I tried to argue with my Onkel Heinz that Berlin was by no means the only city which could boast a lavish musical saison, he said yes, but…it is certainly the place where music is the most accessible to all pockets. Agreed.
So, back to Berlin, where the Young Euro Classics Festival opened last week. For two weeks in August the Konzerthaus booms with sound and excitement, and I’m happy to be part of the lucky audience. This festival, as the name advertises, is dedicated to young musicians, but not only European (why the Euro, I wonder). Every year, there is a rather loose theme to the festival. This year, believe it or not, this loose theme is China – how incredibly original! But if they did have to give a nod to the Olympics, the organizers did it very lightly, as there are actually few concerts that have anything to do with China. The others are with orchestras and musicians from the most diverse origins, Germany, natürlich, but also Kazachstan (yes, Borat), Azerbaidjan, Turkey, Finland, Great Britain, France – a geo-musical kaleidoscope.
Of the sixteen concerts on the programme, I have only been able to book myself into four. Life goes on, and I’m either busy or not very interested on the other days. Of the four, I have already attended two, and I finally come to the point. Was I rewarded!
Actually, the first concert was not without shortcomings. The performers were the Philharmonia Moments Musicaux from Taipei (alright, that is just sort of China, not the real McCoy, I concede), conducted by one Ching-Po Chiang. The programme consisted of two pieces, the exciting première of the Concerto for pipa and bamboo flutes by Lai Deh-Ho and then just your run-of-the-mill Mahler symphony, the Fifth, of Adagietto fame – ah, what would our musical culture be without Hollywood and Cinecittá?! But the excitement began before the concert proper. A hymn was composed for the occasion and played by four brasses, trumpets and horns, as far as I can remember. And I’d rather not remember too far, because it was just appalling. Luckily, it’s very, very short – but they do insist on playing it before every concert, just like God Save the Queen at the Royal Festival Hall. I wonder why they didn’t save themselves the trouble of commissioning the work, considering the most extraordinary national anthem the Germans have, the second movement of Haydn’s Kaiserquartett. Never mind, it gives four very nice brass players their one and a half minutes of glory. And as there is no way one can remember a single note of it, no harm done.
A word about the orchestra, pretty competent although by no means flawless. It was almost an all-girls orchestra, very few men, and then again, the four or five males all had these tremendous mops of hair which made them hard to spot. I resorted to looking at the feet to try to count them, and the brogues did give them away. The flaws I mentioned were mainly in the wind area, as everyone knows that strings shine in the East – cf. Midori, Sarah Chang, Han-Na Chang, the Chung family and, last but not least, the most occidental of oriental musicians, our beloved Yo Yo Ma. The horns, especially, were very harsh and occasionally out of tune.
The first piece then was this concerto for pipa and bamboo flute. For obvious reasons, in my complete ignorance of Chinese instruments, I thought the pipa was some kind of fife. It’s actually a sort of lute, at least the bottom half. The top half is rather like a giant crinkled French-fry. Four strings, just like in the violin family, run from top to bottom, but they are plucked, not bowed. It seems terribly difficult to play and I gather it is responsible for the famous tinny sound in Chinese music. The bamboo flutes are just that, bamboo flutes. The soloists, Hsi-Jong Wang and Chung-Sheng Chen, were both extraordinary virtuosi, and the double concerto quite pleasant and interesting. According to my husband, Oboe d’Amore, the composer was a Chinese version of the Brazilian Villa-Lobos. Very perceptive of him, including the obvious references to Bach. The concerto could be dubbed a Chinese Bachiana.
After the intermission came Mahler, and that, of course, was an act of bravura. And it was not all bad, but not all good either. As I said before, the winds were not up to par, and the performance in general was very heavy-handed. Of course, it is very possible that my judgement was impaired by the fact that what I heard throughout was really a very loud quarter of a symphony, as I was sitting on the extreme right of the first row, a far from ideal hearing-point for symphonic music.
A couple of days later, I attended the second concert I had seats for. That was a whole different ball game. What attracted me was the fact that the conductor was the master cellist Heinrich Schiff, leading a great programme – Webern, Lutoslawski and Tchaikovsky. The orchestra was announced as the Schleswig-Holstein Festival Orchestra. Schleswig-Holstein of course has many claims to fame, the most obvious of which are the historical territorial dispute between Denmark and Germany and their excellence in dairy products (although the Holstein cow is actually Dutch, which to me is in the same league as the Three Musketeers being actually four and, why not, the pipa being a string instrument). But I was not aware that it also boasts a fabulous music festival (yet another illustration of my opening remarks) and orchestra. The orchestra is, I believe, an ad-hoc formation originating in the festival’s Orchestral Academy, which explains the numerous obviously non-Germanic faces one could see at the stands. Can that also explain its excellence? At any rate, their sound was simply beautiful.
We first had to hear the inescapable anthem again, but that was very quickly disposed of. Then, the orchestra already in place, in marched the inimitable Schiff, a pudgy, red-faced, balding man and an absolute giant of a musician. His cello-playing has suffered with the years, and that is something alas inevitable for string players who lose their intonation and their agility (lucky pianists who can play until they are 103). But his musicianship is all there, and he is a sensational (in my modest opinion) conductor. I had heard him play and conduct the D major Haydn cello concerto in this very hall, and I had already commented then that the conductor had definitely come to the cellist’s rescue. Here, he wisely chose to conduct only, and left the cello playing to his Swiss ex-pupil Christian Poltéra, a musical giant in his own right, and not only because he has the biggest hands I have ever seen (barring David Soyers’).
The first piece, or rather pieces, were Webern’s haunting 6 Pieces for Orchestra. The atmosphere was poignant, especially in the gripping Marche Funèbre, and the precise conducting and the virtuosity of the young players did justice to the delicate musical lace-work. Schiff and the orchestra took many deserved bows and Schiff retreated to the wings.
When he came back to conduct the orchestra and Poltéra in Lutoslawski’s cello concerto, he was alone. Suspense in the audience. Had he decided to sideline his pupil and play himself? But he carried no cello. The explanation was not long in coming. Don’t worry, he said, Poltéra is fine and will be on stage shortly, but I would like to say a few words about this work. This is the third time I see this happen. Once, the Brazilian conductor Eleazar de Carvalho decided not only to give an explanation about a contemporary piece the composer and title of which I don’t recall, but played it twice so that the audience could get a second chance at liking it or get a darn good reason to thoroughly dislike it. The second was a priceless pre-performance description of Stravinsky’s Petrouchka given by Rostropovitch, then principal conductor of the National Symphony, to which his thick, guttural Russian accent gave a special flavor, and now this one. Unfortunately, I only understood about 70% of what Schiff said, my German being what it is, but I did get the gist of it and I thought it was great to get a few listening guidelines, contrary to one member of the audience who shouted a teutonic version of “enough, already, get on with the show”. I thought that was very rude, as Schiff was actually being very nice and saying pertinent things. I agree, he went a little overboard and could have done it in five minutes instead of twenty. But Poltéra did finally make his entrance, a very handsome man, with huge hands which almost make extensions unnecessary. He played the hair-raisingly difficult concerto with ease and elegance, and again was superbly supported by Schiff’s knowledgeable and careful conducting. The explanation as to how the concerto is actually a confrontation between the lone cello voice and the mass of the orchestra was enough to give the piece more sense, at least to me. And I became even more acutely aware of this in the course of the second movement, when the cello plays in unison with the orchestra and completely disappears. I had never noticed that before, but then, I had never seen the piece played before, only heard it many times. I particularly like Peter Wispelwey’s recording. There is definitely something to be said about live concerts, all you couch-potatoes out there. Recordings are great, and are getting better and better, but the combination of sound and movement is irreplaceable. How much better you follow the structure of the music when you actually see the musicians dialogue! Musical snobs will of course disagree. Poltéra gave an encore, the Bach’s G major Sarabande, with the same elegant and confident style he had displayed in the Lutoslawski, but it came a bit as an anti-climax, and the Bach suites are maybe better served by other great cellists.
Speaking of musical snobs eases me into the last part of the programme, Tchaikowsky’s Pathétique. I confess to have been a snob of the worst kind regarding Tchaikowsky, at a much younger, brasher and more foolish age. And then I heard Souvenir de Florence, and the piano trio, and finally the Rococo Variations. And I matured: I am no longer ashamed to rave about Tchaikowsky. And that is precisely what I did with Schiff’s utterly beautiful interpretation. My husband, Oboe d’Amore, once commented after a performance of the 5th symphony by the Berlin Philharmonic (no less) under Christoph Eschenbach, that he had found the interpretation far too dry. I thought I had quite liked Eschenbach’s rigorous and no-nonsense approach. Until I heard Schiff and his youngsters. I’m sorry Oboe was not with me, as I’m sure he would have appreciated this emotional, heart-felt, eloquent rendition, which was yet never schmaltzy or kitschy. It gave the music a free, flowing rein and let it express everything that Tchaikowsky most probably intended it to. That, of course, took not only expert direction, but also the instrumental talent which this orchestra was brimming with.
As I once again walked into the Konzerthaus for the third concert in the festival I had tickets for, three days later, I thought things could get no better. I was mistaken. That Wednesday evening, August 6th, the NJO Summer Academy-Orchestra of the 19th Century, a seasonal spin-off of the National Youth Orchestra of the Netherlands (or so I gathered), was to play Mozart , Beethoven and Schubert under the direction of Belgian conductor Jos van Immerseel. It was specifically to hear him that I got tickets, never having heard the Dutch pianist Ronald Brautigam who was slated to play Beethoven’s 1st (C-major ) concerto.
I had been issued tickets in the first row, as the first evening. I was disappointed, but better sitting in the first row than at home in front of the TV watching some silly movie. But, oh my! I spotted at the edge of the stage, right in front of me, four chairs and four stands and I thought the now familiar and inevitable festival anthem, played by horns, bassoon and trumpet, would simply blow me off my seat, or even worse, burst my tympani and ruin the rest of the evening for me. I was about to retreat to the foyer to wait for the blast to be over, when I saw four charming young string players take those seats. Aha, so the anthem was to be played by a string quartet, for a change. Some improvement! It still sounded like the Lexington Avenue Express coming to a screeching halt and the rush hour crowd scurrying away. But, luckily, as I said before, it did not last longer than the subway stays in the station.
The fat version of a chamber orchestra was already in place. I noticed the unfamiliar lay-out: violins and violas and double basses on both sides of the celli, winds and percussion. I had seen that once with Harnoncourt and the Concentus Musicus Wien, though not quite the same. Harnoncourt’s Gabrieli and Monteverdi concert was more of a mess, with the instruments strewn all over the stage and musicians milling around at every break. This was, on the contrary, almost symmetrical and actually very soothing to the eye. The acoustical result was also to prove quite rewarding. So in came van Immerseel, an absolute charmer, with a huge grin and sparkling blue eyes. He too, like Schiff a few days earlier, decided to say a few words, but only to explain that the young musicians of the orchestra had had just a few days to familiarize themselves with the “authentic” instruments and bows and that this was to be considered as a kind of experiment for them. Experiment indeed! As they launched into the Nozze overture, I felt immediately transported to the 18th century, listening to Mozart as Mozart had probably heard himself, and as excited as I get when I listen to René Jacobs. A parenthesis to say that although the cellists were all playing baroque cellos, and the instruments did have the right sound, the bows seemed to me all modern, held maybe slightly à la baroque, but not completely. Anyway, it matters very little, as the result was magnificent. And what’s more, there was none of that caricatural belly (meaning every bow has a beginning, a “belly”and an end) sound that some so-called authentic players produce.
The fragile, five-legged “Hammerflügel” had been on the stage all along, so it was no surprise that the Beethoven concerto was also to be played on the authentic instrument. And it would obviously not have made any sense to have a modern piano accompanied by an authentic orchestra. But when the pianist set foot on the stage, I think the whole audience gasped. This was overdoing it! For bowing graciously and rather self-effacingly before taking his place on the stool was Beethoven himself! Well, to be quite honest, the hair was a little longer and the coat a little shorter, but the resemblance was striking. I suspect Brautigam is aware of it and cultivates the look, but maybe not, who knows. What matters is that his playing is magical, I can find no other word. At first, when the orchestra was playing the introduction, I wondered what he was doing. He was playing along, but one couldn’t hear a note. For a moment I was afraid he would be drowned by the orchestra throughout the concerto. But when he actually started playing the solo part, his sound was crystal-clear. And the magic resided in the fact that he managed to overcome the apparent fragility of the instrument and to infuse the music with such power, lyricism, coherence and grace as I have rarely heard coming out of a modern piano. It was simply overwhelming, and van Immerseel and his young “apprentices” were right there, backing him beautifully all the way. Perfection may not exist, but this was very close to it. I was simply elated, lifted off my seat, soaring high up in musical bliss. I want to hear more of this, much, much more. Luckily, I found that both Jos van Immerseel (with his orchestra Anima Eterna, a play on his own name) and Ronald Brautigam have an extensive discography. Hallelujah!
Schubert’s Eight Symphony, also in C major, brought the evening to a fitting conclusion. I forgave even the occasional slips of the horns and trumpets, no valves, remember? The strings were silky smooth and the intonation smack on the dot. And the conducting was as superb as in the first two pieces. A final comment about the use of the symmetrical seating. There were actually first violins, second violins, violas and basses on both sides. It made a lot of sense to me, as the sound seemed better rounded, fuller, smoother than usual.
This was a pretty hard act to follow. Things could hardly get any better. But still, I had great expectations for the next concert, as by now I was sure this was an escalade of magnificent music making, all the more exciting because it was totally unexpected. So on the following evening I gladly put up with yet another rendition of the anthem, restored to the original instrumentation, a blast of brasses from the balcony. I was back in the last row of the parquet – it’s funny that throughout these performances, I navigated between the first and the last row, and I must say that apart from the unpleasantness of the lopsided Mahler, it worked out pretty well.
Another international youth orchestra, this time the Moritzburg Festival Orchestra – it is really amazing how many such orchestras are formed for the summer in Germany alone. So many extraordinarily talented and dedicated young musicians make you wonder what kind of future they can aspire to. Certainly, orchestras all over the world have a wealth of fresh talent to tap into, and competition is fierce. As for solo careers, I believe they are no longer just a question of talent. A combination of lucky circumstances and good marketing play just as important a role, and I wonder how fair that is. Listening to some of today’s shooting stars is in fact extremely disappointing, as one realizes that, at the very moment when everything points to the increasing impopularity of classical music and the very real struggles of the classical record industry,whole careers are being built on gimmicks and good PR, rather than on merit and talent. There are, luckily, truly brilliant young musicians who are finding their way to the top, but there are also those who are totally fabricated to compete with the pop stars. Come to think of it, although they are promoted and celebrated ad nauseam, there are far fewer of these impostors than there are genuinely good musicians on the concert scene. It is just sad that the former get so much undeserved attention and fame.
My own attention now is focused on the youngsters (am I that old?) on stage and the equally young conductor who floats in. I learn from the programme notes that he is already a confirmed talent at age 29. The first piece is Rudolf Barschai’s chamber orchestra version of Shostakovitch’s 8th string quartet, the one in which he uses his own initials (DSCH) as a recurring theme, as in the first cello concerto . It is marvelous music, as is almost all of Shostakovitch’s output, but I still prefer the original version, much clearer and more precise. And I’m really not too impressed with the orchestra and the conductor, a letdown after the ones who preceded them in this festival. The next piece is a a sort of musical joke, although I don’t think it was meant to be. The German première of a piece for piano, bandoneon and orchestra, dubbed ”Liberty leading the people”, composed by Gustavo Beytelmann who was also at the keyboard. I would rename it “Liberal use of other people’s music”. First of all, can one write classical music for the bandoneon without emulating Piazzolla? Maybe so, but Mr. Beytelmann chose the easy way out, topping his concoction with a pinch of Liszt, a tablespoonful of Rachmaninov and a two or three cups of Gershwin. Apart from the good bandoneonist, quite a forgettable composition and performance.
But what I had really come for was the post-intermission Brahms double. It is a piece dear to all cellists, whom Brahms treated regally, in his cello sonatas, his chamber music and also in his orchestral music. He wrote for the cello to sing out elegantly, poignantly and nobly, and to steal a few moments of glory away from the soloist, as in the 2nd piano concerto. But this concerto is as well-known as it is cherished, and much is expected from the musicians. In this case, the cellist being Jan Vogler, I had little doubt that it would be at least a par performance. It was , alas, closer to double-bogey.
Vogler is certainly an excellent cellist with a big, mellow tone and a solid technique to serve him. But the orchestra was indifferent, merely accompanying, and the violinist, Robert Chen, despite his credentials, pretty uninteresting, to say the least. Too often, a raspy tone and approximative intonation marred his performance. And what was most annoying was the fact that the two musicians seemed to be playing two separate concertos instead of a double concerto. Each pursued his own idea, and never managed to reach an agreement, not even in the beautiful unisons. The disparities in tone, dynamics and vibrato seemed to indicate either a shortage of rehearsals, or serious divergence in interpretation. Whichever the reason, the result was disappointing.
I shouldn’t complain. Two splendid concerts, a decent one and a mediocre one are not a bad record for four concerts practically in the same week. And all that in the middle of Summer! I have goose-bumps just thinking of what the 2009 season has in store. The programmes are all in and I should start to make my choices. But before the Summer ends, I will myself be playing once again at the Konzerthaus, a mere drop in a huge ocean of an orchestra, and only for a few minutes, but, oh, the glory of it! You will, of course, have a full report of the memorable occasion.
And now, a special report from Onkel Heinz, who attended another concert in the Young-Euro Classics festival – one I missed because I was gallivanting for a day in the realm of visual arts, seeing the beautiful Mark Rothko retrospective in Hamburg. So much vibrant music in Rothko’s paintings that I can’t really say I wandered a very long way from my natural habitat.