Other Links
Editorial Board
- Editor - Bill Kenny
- London Editor-Melanie Eskenazi
- Founder - Len Mullenger
Google Site Search
              SEEN 
              AND HEARD CONCERT REVIEW
               
              
              Brahms and Penderecki : 
              Heidi Grant Murphy (soprano), Agnieszka Rehlis 
              (mezzo-soprano), Roderick Williams (baritone). BBC Symphony 
              Orchestra; BBC Symphony Chorus Jiri Belohlavek (conductor) 
              Barbican Hall London 28.2. 2008 (GD) 
              
              Brahms -Symphony No 4 in E minor, op 98
              Krzysztof Penderecki -Symphony No 8, “Lieder der 
              Verganglichke‘
              
              
              In ‘Post-modernist’ terms Penderecki’s latest ‘symphony’ is a 
              ‘heteroglossic’ work. That is to say.  it mixes multiple 
              musical genres and idioms: it is part symphony, part song-cycle, 
              part oratorio, part dramatic cantata, part opera. It also 
              incorporates aspects of  past idioms; German ‘romanticism’, 
              French ‘Impressionism’, and from Penderecki’s own earlier radical 
              avant-garde style much admired by Hans Rosbaud. Tonight we heard 
              the UK premiere of the composer's revised expansion of his  
              2005 version of the 8th symphony, which adds settings of poems by 
              Bertolt Brecht, Hans Bethge, and Joseph von Eichendorff. This  
              version was premiered by the composer at the 2007 Beijing 
              Festival. Penderecki has subtitled the work ‘Lieder der 
              Verganglichkeit’ (‘Songs of Transience’ or ‘Songs of 
              Evanescence’). And all the excellently chosen poems (from German 
              poetry) focus (or perhaps de-focus!) on the transient fragments of 
              time and illumination, which unveil a semblance or ‘flash’ of 
              transcendence/ redemption, or bliss -  illumination, or 
              ‘profane illumination’ to use Walter Benjamin’s phrase, through 
              instant, simultaneous recognition and loss. I am very much hoping 
              that this is a work in progress and that Penderecki will add 
              settings to poems by say,  Holderlin or Trakl at some point.
              
              According to some recent critics of the work,  Penderecki is 
              merely recycling from a wide range of  German musical 
              traditions; a kind of compendium of German music. And indeed all 
              the settings are from German poetry. But Penderecki is by no means 
              uses only German influences. In ‘Frulingsnacht’ (the Fifth 
              setting) to a poem by Hermann Hesse, Penderecki incorporates 
              harmonies (especially in the woodwind) which could have come from 
              Debussy or even Messiaen.  And in the first two settings from 
              Eichendorff and Rilke, he  incorporates the tonal clusters, 
              bi-tonality, and glissandi associated with his earlier more 
              radical style. In the Goethe setting and the last Rilke setting,  
              I heard harmonic influences (especially in the mezzo vocal line) 
              from Mussorgsky and even Shostakovich, whose music Penderecki has  
              conducted frequently and reveres. In the Ninth setting of 
              Eichendorff’s ‘Abschied’ (Im Walde bei Lubowitz), the Wagner of ‘Wesendonck-Lieder’, 
              (especially ‘Traume’) could be heard, and perhaps even strains 
              from Act III of ‘Tristan’.  Thes influences are never simply 
              ‘lifted’ from another composer, but are most artfully re-worked, 
              re-cast to blend with Penderecki’s own wholly original soundscape. 
              The soprano/mezzo duet in the last mentioned setting (beautifully 
              sung by by Grant Murphy and Rehlis) had a distinct baroque feel; 
              traces of Scarlatti, or even Vivaldi, but   inflected 
              with Penderecki’s juxtaposition of rapid, nervous wordless 
              exclamations, and sensuous lyricism in the vocal line. 
              
              As with the composer's earlier ‘St Luke Passion’, and ‘Polish 
              Requiem’, a huge orchestra is deployed with a vast array of 
              percussion. Penderecki often uses these vast forces in an almost 
              chamber-like fashion interspersed with massive orchestral/choral 
              climaxes at cardinal points in the poetic narrative. And in the 
              added Brecht setting (‘Der brennende Baum’) the chorus is 
              instructed to play 50 ocarinas of various pitches, to thrilling 
              effect. This Brecht setting, dealing as it does with a highly 
              allegorical invocation of ‘natural’destruction, which also 
              translates into destruction of nature (an ‘old tree’, compared to 
              an ‘old warror’) by war,  lends itself to a rich range of 
              orchestral/vocal sonorities. Penderecki also brings all three 
              soloists into play with amazingly varied orchestral/choral 
              textures. Although Penderecki is deploying a conventional 
              tonal/harmonic frame he will frequently plunge into a remote 
              tonal, or poly-tonal register, as in the C Sharp minor sudden 
              descent on lower brass at the bleak vision of ‘heavy, severe 
              dismissive sky’ in the third Rilke setting. 
              
              Notable, as always in Penderecki, is the way that he can create a 
              wholly new and haunting tone or mood as in the very opening few 
              bars of the work where he deploys muted second violins divided 
              into twelve parts, each separated by the interval of a semitone to 
              create a mysterious carapace or veil of sound; never just an 
              effect but a tonal ‘allegory’ corresponding beautifully with the 
              sense of allegory invoked by the poetry in dialogue with the 
              music. 
              
              All the soloists were in superb form - Roderick Williams singing 
              the beautiful Karl Kraus setting ‘Flieder’ (‘Lilac) with just the 
              right slightly ambiguous sonority. The BBC orchestra were in 
              absolutely top form too, as was the BBC Symphony Chorus. Some of 
              the Bach-like choral part-writing was delivered with the utmost 
              contrapuntal clarity,  thoroughly rehearsed by chorus-master 
              Stephen Jackson. Belohlavek  conducted with great sensitivity 
              and authority throughout,  at all times achieving great 
              orchestral lucidity and clarity, and always allowing the right 
              space and pace for the soloists. The incorporation of the haunting 
              solo bass trumpet (off stage) in the last movement was eerily 
              effective, striking exactly the right tone of valediction invoked 
              by the final  setting from ‘O gruner Baum des Lebens’ by 
              Achim von Arnim. There is already a very fine Naxos recording of 
              the 2005 original of this work and it is very much to be hoped 
              that this UK premiere of the the revised 2007 version, which was 
              recorded, will become available as a cd or a download soon. I will 
              certainly be including this protean musical event in my end of 
              year ‘Best concert’ selection.
              
              While the originally advertised concert programmed the Penderecki 
              work as its first item with the Brahms Fourth Symphony concluding 
              , I feel it was the right decision to end with the Penderecki; if 
              only because the last movement of the ‘Eighth Symphony’ ends on an 
              ambiguous upward scale which left me (and hopefully the audience) 
              thinking. I wondered about the message of Penderecki’s current 
              statement, and if, or not, it will be further extended as a ‘work 
              in progress’. I mention this because under conventional concert 
              conditions the Brahms symphony would seem a more obvious 
              concluding work,  ending as it does, on a ‘tragic’ (to use 
              Tovey’s term) minor key note.
              
              Belohlavek gave a well thought-out, well structured, rather 
              straight-forward  rendition of the Brahms. There was a slight 
              hesitancy at the end of the first movement exposition, especially 
              in the violins, which were not always together, and which were 
              conventionally placed all on the conductor's left. This 
              straight-forwardness sometimes translated into a certain 
              four-square approach to contour and phrasing and I heard none of 
              Tovey’s ‘cloud of mystery’ at the beginning of the recapitulation 
              in G minor. The enormously powerful coda of the movement, although 
              well articulated, ultimately sounded a tad tame. The second 
              movement did not contrast sufficiently  with the first  
              in its tonal/harmonic registers. Again, there was a certain 
              prosaic quality in phrasing. And the G major re-statement of the 
              second subject lacked the solemn glow and warmth, especially in 
              the strings, heard in the greatest performances. The third 
              movement, which is really the closest Brahms ever came to writing 
              a scherzo, was rhythmically adroit, but lacked that ‘tiger-like 
              energy’ which Tovey celebrated.
              
              The performance picked up in the great 30 variation Bachian 
              finale. The whole sequence of variations was well delineated and 
              always hung together. The ‘energico e passionato’ marking could 
              have been more ‘passionately’ adhered to especially in variations 
              17 to 21 where Brahms generates an extraordinarily concentrated, 
              agitated rhythmic energy, with trombone interjections and volcanic 
              unleashing of tutti outbursts. Belohlavek ‘saved’ the 
              performance overall by correctly playing the concluding two 
              variations at a sustained slower tempo, following Brahm’s 
              ‘ominous’ ritardando marking and not succumbing to the urge  
              found with many conductors, to ignore Brahm’s instruction and 
              speed up.
              
              Geoff Diggines
              
              
              
              
              
              Back 
              to Top                                                 
                
              Cumulative Index Page 
              

