Mozart, Hindemith, Roussel, R.Strauss: Leon Fleisher, Piano, Nancy Gustafson, Soprano, New York Philharmonic, Lorin Maazel, Conductor, Avery Fisher Hall, New York City, 02.12.2006 (BH)

 

 

Mozart: Piano Concerto in A major, K. 414/385p (1782)

Hindemith: Piano Music with Orchestra (Piano: Left Hand), Op. 29 (1923)

Roussel: Bacchus et Ariane Suite No. 2, Op. 43 (1930)

R. Strauss: Final Scene from Salome (1905)

 

 

In 1923 Paul Hindemith completed Piano Music with Orchestra for its renowned commissioner, Paul Wittgenstein, who never performed it in public, and upon his death in 1961 the score was thought to be lost forever.  But in 2002 it was unearthed in a Pennsylvania farmhouse among Wittgenstein’s memorabilia, purchased by the Hindemith Foundation in Switzerland, and ultimately given its world premiere just two years ago by Leon Fleisher with Sir Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic.  At least on first hearing, it appears to be a major find.  Roughly eighteen minutes long and in four movements without pause, it is full of typical Hindemith invention and contrapuntal delights.  Its raucous interplay between soloist and orchestra and kinetic energy seem not too far removed from his Kammermusik series, written about the same time from 1922 to 1927, and all of these scores show a more playful side than some of his subsequent orchestral showpieces, Mathis der Mahler (1933) and Symphonic Metamorphoses on Themes of Weber (1943).  I’m not sure the offhand, even abrupt, ending of Piano Music will ensure a role as an audience crowd-pleaser, but those who admire the composer will celebrate its arrival like a new baby.  Let’s hope for a recording soon.

Fleisher’s return to two-handed playing has been one of the most gratifying comebacks in recent years.  With adroit companionship from Maazel and the New York Philharmonic, he deftly articulated the composer’s signature contrapuntal writing, in playful contrast to a repeated hammer-like outburst in the brass.  In places the writing for trombone and trumpets, in particular, is so vigorous it almost overwhelms the balance, but Hindemith fans are not likely to care.  With all the attention on the Hindemith premiere, it was hard not to see the preceding Mozart Piano Concerto in A major as a warm-up, but Fleisher and the orchestra dispatched it with tingling excitement, the strings especially warm and buoyant.  The middle Andante showed the pianist at his most tender, and Maazel at his most relaxed.

Thanks to yet another inexplicable programming black hole, one could have heard the Philharmonic every year since 1982 and not heard Roussel’s delightful second suite from his ballet Bacchus et Ariane.  The suite corresponds to the second act, which finds Ariane waking up after being deserted by Theseus, throwing herself off a high rock and being caught by Bacchus, who promptly kisses her.  She becomes immortal and is praised by nymphs and Bacchus, who adorns her with a crown of stars.  I wish I could give a crown of stars to violist Cynthia Phelps, who launched the work with a sensuous solo that was then picked up by concertmaster Glenn Dicterow, all leading to a luxurious tunnel of orchestral color.  Maazel is excellent in this kind of repertoire that responds to clarity and elegance, and should consider more of it, more frequently.

To end the evening, soprano Nancy Gustafson strode onstage wearing a long form-fitting black dress, aptly slit to well above the knees revealing some sparkling ankle bracelets, all creating a mildly provocative costume for the final scene from Salome.  Richard Strauss’ showpiece is one of the best-known and most difficult works to pull off, and all one had to do is let one’s eyes drift from the soloist to the hard-working ensemble as evidence.  Gustafson’s dark, creamy voice melded beautifully with Strauss’ soaring lines, and she found plenty of confidence to crouch down, glaring and hissing haughtily at the audience.  Now and then the orchestra’s climaxes almost overpowered her, but the effect of watching her swimming into a torrent of sound somehow enhanced the scene’s primal power.

 

 

Bruce Hodges