Beethoven, Berg, Stravinsky and Ravel: New York Philharmonic Lorin Maazel, Conductor, Anne-Sophie Mutter, Violin , Avery Fisher Hall, New York City, 14.4 2007 (BH)

Beethoven: Leonore Overture No. 3, Op. 72b (1806)
Berg: Violin Concerto (1935)
Stravinsky: Chant du rossignol: Poème symphonique (Song of the Nightingale: Symphonic Poem; 1913-14; 1917)
Ravel: Daphnis et Chloé Suite No. 2 (1909-12; 1913)

  

Honest, I have no beef with Beethoven, but I couldn’t help musing over other ideas that might have created a different first half of this program, such as Theo Verbey’s very fine orchestration of Berg’s Piano Sonata.  Or since Berg’s Violin Concerto comes from 1935, perhaps consider something else from the same year as an unusual cross-section, such as excerpts from Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet, or maybe a real rarity like George Antheil’s Archipelago (Rhumba).   In any case, it goes without saying that Beethoven’s Leonore Overture No. 3 is worth hearing now and then, but perhaps a little more infrequently, given the wealth of music waiting to make inroads into listeners’ heads.  Maazel’s approach was elegant and patrician, and the orchestra responded in kind, but I would have liked a bit more crackling electricity (without the glare in the louder parts).

But then the temperature rose dramatically, when Anne-Sophie Mutter strode out with her short blond hair echoing the hue of a shoulderless, yellow satin dress that showed off every curve, looking utterly sensational.  Classical music could use a bit of Academy Awards-style glamour now and then.  But this wouldn’t amount to much if she weren’t renowned for her interpretation of Berg’s great concerto, in a moving and brilliant reading that encouraged the best from all onstage.  After a carefully judged introduction, she entered quietly as if suffused with regret, but that turned out to be illusory, changing into a soulful display brimming with song.  Mutter seems born to play this miraculous work, and brought out anger, sorrow, pity – a huge array of wrenching emotions countered by touchingly quiet ones – all with gripping control and fluidity.  I will never forget the final few bars, as the violin softly falls, over and over, before slowly rising up to rest on the eerie high note that seems somewhere in outer space.  The orchestral backing could not have been more fervent and glistening, and Maazel conducted it as if he and Mutter had spent the last few months poring over the score, discussing interpretative decisions.

Extracted from Stravinsky’s one-act opera Le Rossignol, the Chant has echoes of The Rite of Spring (albeit a pentatonic one), and was the inspiration for yet another Diaghilev ballet, in 1920.  Maazel’s meticulous approach served him well here.  With echoes of The Rite and Petrushka, the Chant is chameleon-like in its texture and mood changes.  Some finely wrought effects – shrieks and squawks, and superb interludes between the flute and the group’s concertmaster – all played to Maazel’s strengths, and its time period meshed perfectly with the final work on the program.By now Maazel’s empathy for Ravel is well-known, and I cited his concert version of L’enfant et les sortilèges as one of the best concerts of 2006.(Review) The second suite from Daphnis et Chloe was spectacularly delivered by the ensemble, as crystalline as a mountain spring, albeit an extremely loud one.  But who would want to resist torrents like these when they are so luxuriously seductive? 

 

Bruce Hodges