Bavarian Radio SO in New York (III): Lang Lang, Piano, Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra, Mariss Jansons, Chief Conductor, Carnegie Hall, New York City, 05.11.2006 (BH)

 

 

Rolf Liebermann: Furioso (1947)

Beethoven: Piano Concerto No. 1 in C Major, Op. 15 (1795)

Sibelius: Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 43 (1901-02)

 

 

 

 

Mariss Jansons sure knows how to throw a party.  Tonight’s concert, one of the highlights of the fall season, was notable for including not one, but three encores, including Lang Lang’s stunning “Spring Dance” that followed his impressive Beethoven First Piano Concerto.

Kicking things off was Rolf Liebermann’s Furioso, which from 1947 was the second-newest item on all three programs.  (Strauss’ Four Last Songs from 1948 barely eased into first place.)  Liebermann was primarily known as an audio engineer and orchestra administrator, but found enough time to create operas, cantatas and other works, including this bristling little exercise.  It opens with rapid-fire runs in the strings, shivering up and down like tiny electric eels, with a prominent piano part done commandingly by the orchestra’s Barton Weber.  The middle section could be lyrical Prokofiev, stirred with a bit of Bernstein.  It was all highly enjoyable, and the Bavarian Radio ensemble played it as if they might never again have the opportunity to show it to an American audience.

I’ve now heard Lang Lang live twice, and while I can still sense the skepticism of some who think he has been marketed out of existence, it is clear that he is a piano virtuoso of the first order.  If the Beethoven occasionally seemed a study of willful accents almost to the point of parody, this was more than offset by some crystal-clear phrases, even at low volumes, and an intense rapport with Jansons and the orchestra.  In the second movement the pianist’s articulation was virtually faultless.  After starting the final Rondo at super-high speed, some of the middle section had the jazzy ease of Scott Joplin, and there was simply nothing to complain about Lang Lang’s poise, confidence and control, making every single moment sing to the heavens.  And thankfully there was little “looking to the heavens” as has been noted in some of his performances, but now I’m already prepared to simply glance away, should his body language become more of a liability than a show of empathy.  On this occasion, at least, it wasn’t a problem.  The orchestra, similar to the Beethoven Seventh Symphony the previous night, summoned up some exuberant, danceable rhythms that only underlined the camaraderie onstage.

I continue to think that some of Lang Lang’s choices, like this concerto, are simply too easy for him.  (Rest assured this is no oblique comment on Beethoven.)  But I wish something by Xenakis or Ginastera would catch his eye – a furiously wild piece that would fully engage his astounding technique.  We got a brief glimpse of what that might entail with a brilliant encore, a traditional Chinese melody arranged as if carved up in a war between Conlon Nancarrow and Tan Dun.  The fairly traditional sounding opening is soon eclipsed by a violently showy center, with blitzes of notes splintering all over the place at high speeds, before the piece returns to some semblance of calm with an enigmatic final chord that could have been lifted from a Scriabin sonata.  Lang Lang could do the piano world an inestimable service by starting the process of considering commissioning some works from living composers, who could challenge his talents to heights I can only imagine. 

From the first few bars of the Sibelius Symphony No. 2, one could tell that a mesmerizing reading was in store, with Jansons adeptly capturing that uniquely Sibelian feeling of being buoyed along on gusts of wind.  Just when the music seems calm, the strings whip up things into a climax, the winds tossing about in glittering good humor.  The second movement, with some notable work from Eberhard Marschall and Marco Postinghel on bassoon, seemed to rise up as if summoned by an ancient incantation.  The sprightly third movement, the windiest of all, was given a true vivacissimo, light as silk, before the finale strode into view, preening in that curious Sibelius mix of haze and sunlight.  This was quite simply one of the most breathless yet coherent views of this warhorse I have ever experienced, with Jansons taking full advantage of every magnificent phrase, shaping each one as if it mattered more than any of the other repertoire in the three evenings.

With a cheering audience as backdrop, Jansons waited until the room was completely quiet to begin the haunting opening of Sibelius’ Valse triste, whose admirers must have been floored with the colors cracked open in the middle.  The evening ended with the final waltz from Richard Strauss’ suite from Der Rosenkavalier, giving those who didn’t hear the whole thing on Friday a glimpse of what they missed.

 

 

Bruce Hodges

 

 

Photo © Michel Neumeister