Mozart, Schubert, and Schubert/Webern: 
Christian Zacharias, cond. and piano, Seattle Symphony, Benaroya Hall, 
Seattle, 
8.03.2007 (BJ)
 
                       
                        
                        Ever since he began his recording career with an unusually 
                        serious choice of repertoire, notably including Schubert’s 
                        great G-major Sonata, I have held Christian Zacharias 
                        in high esteem. In 2000, like several of his fellow pianists, 
                        he added a conducting appointment to his portfolio, taking 
                        over the direction of the Lausanne Chamber Orchestra. 
                        My first encounter with that collaboration, reviewing 
                        a Mozart disc that cleverly coupled the “Prague” Symphony 
                        with its two nearest neighbors in the composer’s catalogue, 
                        was a pleasure; and this concert with the Seattle Symphony 
                        made a similar, and a similarly favorable, impression.
                        
                        Zacharias 
                        tends toward the gentler, more poetic end of the pianistic 
                        spectrum, but he is capable of strong stuff too–only out 
                        of the strong, perhaps, comes forth true sweetness–and 
                        his playing in one of the grandest of all Mozart concertos, 
                        No. 22 in E-flat-major, K. 482, was exemplary in its blend 
                        of those characteristics. The outer movements had plenty 
                        of heft, the piano’s incisive passages always nicely dovetailed 
                        with excellent detail in the orchestra, and the central 
                        Andante was kept flowing without detriment to its intense 
                        pathos of expression. In his own first-movement cadenza, 
                        moreover, Zacharias showed a decidedly bold freedom from 
                        convention: he brought the orchestral winds in for two 
                        short but inventive dialogues. Such a step naturally negates 
                        the idea of the cadenza as something extemporized. But 
                        that, unless you have a soloist like Robert Levin who 
                        actually does make things up as he goes along, is perhaps 
                        only to recognize reality, and in this case it had the 
                        very considerable gain of forging an early link with the 
                        serenade-style wind passages in the succeeding Andante 
                        and Rondo–projecting those, as it were, forward in time 
                        into the opening movement.
                        
                        At 
                        the other end of the program, conducting now from the 
                        podium instead of the keyboard, Zacharias offered an attractive 
                        performance of the “Linz” Symphony, No. 36 in C major. 
                        This is a work that has always seemed to me unjustly overshadowed 
                        by the four great Mozart symphonies that followed it. 
                        A local critic went so far as to say that it “isn’t one 
                        of the composer’s more remarkable symphonies,” and Donald 
                        Tovey, writing I think in the 1930s, astonishingly remarked 
                        that he had only heard it performed once. But it is a 
                        work richly endowed with wit, charm, energy, and sheer 
                        musical invention, and all of its qualities were made 
                        manifest in this performance (which observed, by the way, 
                        a decent proportion of the repeats Mozart called for).
                        
                        Between 
                        the two Mozart works, Zacharias ended the first half of 
                        the program alone on stage, playing a set of German Dances 
                        for the piano by Schubert, and then began the second half 
                        by conducting Webern’s arrangement of them for small orchestra. 
                        This is strikingly romantic music. Zacharias projected 
                        the piano originals elegantly, at the same time giving 
                        full expression to the passion that so often lies just 
                        beneath the surface of Schubert’s music. The Webern orchestration 
                        offered a large role to Seattle’s splendid horn section, 
                        but it eschews trumpets, so there were none of those muted-trumpet 
                        interjections that make most of his own orchestral music 
                        sound acidic. It was revealing to hear how much his version 
                        of Schubert emphasizes the charm and sweetness of the 
                        dances–a wistful realization, perhaps, of something he 
                        knew lay only fitfully within his own creative grasp.
 
                       
                        
                        Bernard Jacobson