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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



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