Shostakovich and Sibelius: New York Philharmonic, Sakari Oramo, Conductor, Lisa Batiashvili, Violin  Avery Fisher Hall New York City 14.04. 2007 (BH)

 

Shostakovich: Violin Concerto No. 1 in A minor, Op. 99 (1947-48)
Sibelius: Symphony No. 6, Op. 104 (1918-23)
Sibelius: Tapiola: Symphonic Poem for Orchestra, Op. 112 (1926)

 

In a fascinating juxtaposition, guest conductor Sakari Oramo countered the unbridled rhythmic propulsion of Shostakovich with the more introverted flow of Sibelius.  My hunch is that there are more than a few listeners who would enjoy one but not the other, borne out by the friend with me who loved the rougher contours of the Shostakovich, but found the Sibelius a bit on the meandering side.  (I’m not agreeing, just reporting the news.)

For his first violin concerto, written when he was forty-one, Shostakovich concocted one of his most enigmatic works, with two mournful slow movements framed by two high-spirited romps.  Oramo chose somewhat moderate speeds overall, eschewing outright fireworks, and the result was a more genial reading that allowed every single note to be heard.  Exuding steely confidence, Lisa Batiashvili plunged into the opening Nocturne with unflinching focus, almost overwhelming the slightly more laid back orchestra.  Even the most fearsome passages had impressive accuracy and articulation.  The grotesque Scherzo that followed, an impish devil-dance, was no less effective taken at a moderate speed.  As is often the case, the great Passacaglia emerged as the cornerstone, with Batiashvili often gazing straight ahead, playing with piercing directness almost to the point of brutality.  During the final Burlesque, my companion compared her to a murderous Louise Brooks in Pandora’s Box, and certainly Batiashvili’s controlled fever, coupled with the onslaught from the orchestra, was fiendishly exciting.

Sibelius’ Sixth Symphony can seem like a sweet-natured stepchild, compared to the popular Second and Fifth, so I was surprised when Oramo strode out to lead it without a score.  Brimming with confidence, he led a clean, yet emotional performance.  Considering the composer, the Sixth is more mystical than say, the Second, with its clear-cut, hard-won triumph.  One could imagine a snapshot taken from a mountaintop of a serene valley below.  Often the orchestra creates the feeling of hovering in air, with trees bending in gentle breezes.  The third movement, marked Poco vivace, has restless energy, diving and swirling in on itself in little curlicues from the strings and winds.  Rapture finally arrives in the last movement, occasionally with thunderous climaxes, but ultimately the music fades away, as if disappearing in the distance.  Oramo seemed so natural, so right in this score, capturing its flickering qualities with grace.

I first grew to love Tapiola through Vladimir Ashkenazy’s Sibelius cycle with the Philharmonia back in the 1980s, so I was a little shocked to see that the New York Philharmonic hadn’t performed it since 1934, with Artur Rodzinski.  Imagine: one could attend the Philharmonic’s concerts for almost seventy-five years and never hear this exquisite bit of luminous writing, and that is slightly shameful.  Has it really had no champions here since the early part of the 20^th century?  Perhaps we are in the midst of a Sibelius renaissance.  I’m still puzzled, but no more ranting.  In this short tone poem, the composer summons up icy winds, rushing about through dark pine forests, in one of his most evocative portraits, which in its bleakness somehow sounds quintessentially Finnish.  Again Oramo seemed enchanted by the work’s mysterious beauty, diving into its constantly shifting surface with complete command, with the Philharmonic’s brass section particularly sensuous in its ebb and flow.  In a letter to Sibelius after its New York premiere, Walter Damrosch wrote, “I consider Tapiola to be one of the most original and fascinating works from your pen.”  If only audiences heard it more, they might be inclined to agree. 

 

Bruce Hodges