These two works form such an ideal pairing that it seems odd that this
was the first Proms outing for the Shostakovich; as it happened, the
performance of this piece was the more interesting of the evening, despite
its occasional inherent awkwardness. Both works here celebrate unity
of aspiration and the brotherhood of man, although the Russian symphony
is, of course, far more overtly political, and therein lies its problem
for many audiences; how to listen to and even appreciate a work which
is not really a symphony at all, which contains so many oddities and
which closes with a choral segment where the sung text was described
by the composer himself as ‘quite disgusting?’ It was, however, a tribute
to this orchestra, conductor and the BBC Symphony Chorus, that one’s
attention never flagged, and there were moments when I felt that this
work deserves to be heard far more frequently.
The remarkable introduction is built up from seven
distinct string parts, played with increasing volume until they slide
gracefully into a less well defined collection of sketches: Salonen
kept up such a pitch of quiet intensity here that one could hardly help
but think of Beethoven’s late quartets, a recollection continued during
the long violin solo, beautifully played by the leader. The choral section
was less successful, but only because the music itself is problematic;
its nearest equivalent is the ‘Musical Placards’ which were meant to
be the equivalent of the huge posters of Lenin and various Soviet icons
– like religious emblems they served as a daily reminder of the citizen’s
duty, and their musical forms were meant to be performed as a kind of
secco recitative. The almost – shouting in which the chorus has to indulge
here bears similarities to that style, and it was greatly to their credit
that this group of singers managed to sound totally convincing whilst
singing such formulaic language and brusque notation. I found the cries
of ‘Borba! Borba!’ (Struggle! Struggle!) quite moving, and repaired
to the bar at the interval in the happy expectation that if the same
forces could make this sound so engrossing, the 9th was sure
to be an experience to treasure.
Sadly, it was not to be. This is unquestionably one
of the great orchestras – the string tone by itself would be enough
to convince you of that – and there is no doubt in my mind that Salonen
is one of the conductors who really are worth going to see, but this
performance of the 9th was so safe, so sanitized, so bland,
that it was on the wrong side of neutral. The playing was never less
than precise, beautifully detailed and lovingly shaped, but the overall
sound was cool, distant and lacking in passion. The Allegro was tentative
at times, and the Adagio lost some needed tension in the middle, becoming
rather soggy and in need of momentum. The brass playing was generally
superb, but the introduction to the Finale did not provide the desired
moment of drama, and the whole of the Choral part seemed hurried, as
though they really wanted to get it over with, rather than savouring
this miraculous piece or even, perhaps, trying to bring it to us as
if it were fresh and new.
I sigh inwardly every time I read that we are to hear
a ‘quartet of international soloists;’ is it necessary to ship singers
in from all over the place for so short a moment of glory, especially
since, in the case of the sopranos, it’s really a bit of a scream –
on part? Not that either Melanie Diener or Paula Rasmussen did exactly
that, but they were rushed through their already – minor parts, as indeed
were the men. It’s rather touching to see a veteran like Eike Wilm Schulte
described as a ‘Debut Artist,’ but he clearly knows ‘O Freunde’ very
well indeed; his singing was confident but lacked that final element
of power in reserve, and despite being able to give words such as ‘feuertrunken’
their proper weight the overall impression of his performance was rather
perfunctory. The American tenor Robert Gambill was another ‘debutant,’
with a very winning stage presence and excellent diction, but this really
is a part which needs a heavier voice; the line is ‘wie ein held zum
Siegen,’ not ‘wie ein Lyrisch - tenor zu singen’ and his voice was lost
in the chorus at that part, although he was a stalwart in the ensembles.
The BBC Symphony Chorus sang lustily, but the performance
as a whole lacked what Beethoven’s 9th should always have;
a sense of real drama, a feeling of momentous, passionate endeavour
and perhaps even a certain element of risk-taking, all of which were
conspicuously absent last night.
Melanie Eskenazi
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