Stravinsky, Schumann, and Sibelius: Sir Andrew Davis, cond., Jonathan Biss, piano, Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, Benaroya Hall, Seattle, 3.04.2007 (BJ)

 

“You remind me” (an uncle of mine used to say to his wife) “of Marilyn Monroe–you’re so different.” In similar fashion, though without any hint of the implied insult, Sir Andrew Davis’s performance with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra of Sibelius’s Fifth Symphony reminded me of one of the most fascinatingly individual accounts of the work I have ever heard, just over 20 years ago in Philadelphia. On that occasion, under Esa-Pekka Salonen’s direction, the work emerged almost as an abstract, an affair entirely of line and logic, in which anything so gross as actual physical sound seemed irrelevant.

Davis’s interpretation stood at the opposite extreme. Taking a piece that has too often–for example, when such conductors as Eugene Ormandy and Herbert von Karajan used to play it–been reduced to anodyne smoothness, he pointed up the contrasts, expanded the dynamic range, intensified the textural pungency, revitalized the colors, and in so doing revealed Sibelius’s astounding symphony as the deeply stirring, at times truly terrifying creation it is. Both approaches are justifiable. Salonen’s gave me a new view of the work. Davis’s instead reasserted the validity of a more traditional view, and it benefitted from mostly stellar playing by the orchestra whose artistic adviser he has been since 2005.

The Pittsburgh Symphony is clearly in excellent shape. The brass section, nothing if not brassy, perhaps falls a little short of its Seattle counterpart’s ideal blend of potency and finesse, but responds generously to the demands made on it by composer and conductor. The woodwinds are excellent, if again more on the forceful than the elegant side. The orchestra’s timpanist did impeccable work. But probably the finest and most characterful playing came from the strings, who have developed a most impressive cohesion and tonal warmth under the leadership of long-time concertmaster Andrés Cárdenes.

All of these strengths, and the preponderance of power over delicacy that they suggest, were in evidence in the Sibelius, in a rousing encore performance of the Polonaise from Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin, and  at the start of the evening in a reading of Stravinsky’s Pulcinella Suite that was not always tidy but exulted in good old-fashioned heft and brilliance. The concerto on the program, Schumann’s for piano, unfortunately fared less well. The young soloist was Jonathan Biss, who has begun in the last few years to carve out a substantial career for himself, and who has been greeted with some highly enthusiastic reviews in The New Yorker and other august periodicals.

I have hitherto failed to share or understand such positive reactions, and this performance in no way changed my mind. It is tempting to suggest that Biss’s tone lacks top and his interpretation lacks what used to be called bottom, but that is to say less than needs to be said. It is not only a ringing upper register that was missing in this performance, but any kind of richness or singing quality through the piano’s range. And as for interpretation, well, there just wasn’t any. Fast running passages were played with an absence of clarity and stability that reduced them to meaningless gabble, and in the more lyrical and contemplative stretches of the score, the pianist’s rubato, instead of growing naturally out of the music, seemed to be stuck on from outside, dredged up from a drearily conventional common stock of such bedizenments.

It should be stated for the sake of reportorial thoroughness that Biss was vociferously applauded by many members of the audience. But I think it unlikely that anyone who has ever heard a performance of the Schumann Piano Concerto  by one of its great interpreters–who, since the deaths of Solomon and Richter, have included Ivan Moravec, Blanca Uribe, and such gifted younger players as Leif Ove Andsnes–could have been among those who leapt to their feet to cheer this tedious and dispiriting run-through. Good taste is all very well, but not when it manifests itself merely in an unwillingness to do anything bold or individual. The other kind of good taste–the taste that seizes on and celebrates all those characteristics that make a work great–happily saved the evening by virtue Davis’s and his orchestra’s magnificent Stravinsky and Sibelius.

 

Bernard Jacobson