The placing of Bartók’s
Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta alongside the Violin
Concerto of György Ligeti may on the face of it appear obvious.
The greatest Hungarian composer of the first half of the twentieth century
teamed up with the greatest Hungarian composer of the second half of
the twentieth century and beyond. Yet here, the choice was particularly
inspired. Indeed one of the finest programming decisions of this year’s
Proms.
The atmosphere of ghostly, other-worldliness
captured in the opening movement of the Bartók was immediately
arresting, the violins entering on the very edge of audibility - dynamic
risks that paid off with consistent effect. The driving, motoric rhythmic
writing in the ensuing Allegro had tremendous propulsion if not
always-precise rhythmic accuracy, although the notorious and treacherous
stabbing off beats on the piano and pizzicato strings were despatched
with aplomb. Again in the third movement the palpable sense of shimmering
atmosphere, here with major contributions from percussion, piano and
celesta, cast a wonderful spell, the dance rhythms of the final Allegro
molto, vigorous and effervescent with a sense of genuine exhilaration
that is captured in all too few performances.
Interestingly, Rattle chose to
deviate from the Proms Prospectus by placing the Ligeti after the interval
and not directly after the Bartók as originally programmed. Either
way, the contrast, or more to the point the parallels between the two
masters were clear. The Bulgarian dance rhythms and folk influenced
melodies of the Bartók are all present, yet ingeniously absorbed
into Ligeti’s unique, kaleidoscopic and often downright wacky musical
world. The work demands a chamber orchestra of soloists whose parts
are often as virtuosic as the solo violin and gave a rare opportunity
for the audience to hear the orchestra in what may be considered highly
uncharacteristic territory. Tasmin Little’s control of the fiendish
solo part was quite simply exemplary, the ensemble including scordatura
(re-tuned) violin and viola and a band of ocarinas played by the winds,
animated and agile. The composer’s challenge to his soloist to provide
their own cadenza (placed at the very end of the five movement work)
was here taken up by Little and although not always in keeping with
Ligeti’s request that it "should be hectic throughout", drew
material from the previous movements intelligently and effectively.
Sadly the solo bassoon had not
got beyond the taxing first bar of The Rite of Spring before
the deafening (and I do not use the word lightly) ring of a mobile phone,
the ghastly and dreaded "Nokia" tune at that, emanated from
the stalls. Fortunately Rattle had the presence of mind to stop and
hang his head whilst gasps of disbelief and choruses of tuts rang equally
loudly around the hall. There is little point in stating the obvious
thoughts that were no doubt running through the minds of most of those
present, although I suspect that one gentleman sitting just in front
of me managed to sum those thoughts up quite succinctly when he was
heard to mutter quietly but clearly "wanker".
Unfortunately it turned out to
be an inauspicious start to a tepid performance. After fine individual
playing in the Introduction, Auguries of Spring lacked potency
and simply failed to ignite. In Round-dances of Spring the orchestra
eventually erupted, yet throughout there was a nagging sense of absent
electricity – noise without menace or savagery. The slower sections
were perhaps the most successful in this respect, the introduction to
Part 2 heavy with foreboding, yet the tension stubbornly failed to sustain
itself and despite continued individual playing of quality the performance
as a whole lacked penetration and cumulative impact. Put simply, it
consistently failed to keep me on the edge of my seat.
The addition of any encore at
all would have been questionable after a performance of Le Sacre
but Debussy’s orchestration of Satie’s second Gymnopedie sat
particularly uncomfortably, albeit not as uncomfortably as the solo
oboist who clearly suffered something of a nightmare (the result, I
suspect, of a sticky valve) during the initial solo. I for one would
sooner have left the hall intoxicated with Tasmin Little’s stunning
Ligeti and the finer moments of the Bartók.
Christopher Thomas.
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