SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Sibelius: Nikolaj Znaider (violin), London Symphony Orchestra, Colin Davis. Barbican Hall, London, 29.6.2008 (BBr)

Jean Sibelius: The Oceanides, op.73 (1914)
Violin Concerto in D minor, op.47 (1903/1904 rev 1905)
Symphony No.4 in A minor, op.63 (1911)


Tonight’s concert confirmed, if confirmation were actually necessary, Colin Davis’s well -established stature as a real Sibelian. With the LSO on top form, he essayed two very complicated scores with an ease which was staggering and also, with Nikolaj Znaider a most persuasive advocate, a stunning account of a very old friend.

I have never heard The Oceanides live before, indeed, I doubt that many people have. Although it’s only about 15 minutes in duration – typical for a Sibelius tone poem – it’s not a typical Sibelius tone poem at all. What sets this work apart from most of the others is that it isn’t based on an episode from Finnish mythology but, like Nightride and Sunrise – another non mythological work – it creates its atmosphere from a simple idea, in this case sea nymphs. Scored for a large orchestra, including two harps, a rarity in Sibelius, this seascape is elusive in language and very colourful in orchestration. Davis understood the ebb and flow of the music, pointing the subtle and delicate movement of the work and building a shattering climax of quite astonishing intensity.

With the Concerto we were back on familiar ground. From his first entry, delicate as a whisper, Znaider was in total control of this interpretation, never overplaying the music for the sake of virtuoso effect and bringing out the poetry of the work. The long first movement, with its fearsome cadenza which acts as a development of the material, can sound episodic but not here.  Znaider and Davis knew exactly where they were going, the various episodes unfolding gradually and logically. The slow movement, uncomplicated and straightforward as a song, was subdued and muted with beautiful, understated playing from Znaider and the finale, full of high spirits,  allowed him to let his hair down. Davis was a supreme accompanist but he was never afraid to let the orchestra play when the opportunity arose. No revelations here, just a very fine performance.

The revelation came after the interval. The 4^th Symphony is probably Sibelius’s darkest work, written in the wake of an operation for throat cancer and in the shadow of the fact that the cancer could return. One of the most startling features of this work is its compactness, both lyrical and compositionally. The slow first movement is a mere 114 bars long but into that small space Sibelius seems to capture all experience in an hair raising experience of snarling brass, solo instrumental lines and intense tragedy. Davis was at his most controlled here, balancing the huge, but brief, climactic moments with periods of intense calm and, occasionally, frailty. This scherzo is no joke, despite having a strange dance-like feel to it. Davis kept it light and problem free until the tempo slowed and the disruptive elements reappeared, screwing up the forward momentum only to have the music snuffed out with three quiet beats of the timpani. The slow movement speaks of vast open spaces, the orchestration hesitant and sparse, seemingly lost in its direction. A large climax, very well handled here, crosses the landscape but fails to ignite and the music falls to quietness, Davis finding real pathos at the end. The finale includes a part for bells, and this has often been a problem for performers. The score simply specifies Glocken and most performers use a glockenspiel because that instrument can cut through the texture and ring out clearly above the whole orchestra. I have heard one (recorded) performance where the conductor used tubular bells (was it Bernstein?) but that sound is too heavy for the music it plays. On another occasion, Raymond Leppard and the BBC Northern Symphony, some thirty years ago in a live performance, used both tubular bells and glockenspiel in unison and the sound was far too imprecise. Tonight, Davis chose this latter combination again and, for me at least, it didn’t work. This music seems devoid of humanity, it’s a nature piece of gigantic proportions where people simply don’t exist – tubular bells, with their obvious reminiscence of church bells, suggest community – here we’re running through the vast wintry forests with wolves! This finale is unsettling and the glockenspiel offers the only real ray of hope, perhaps in the whole work, so to fudge this with the bells is an obvious miscalculation. How strange that Sibelius, usually so precise in what he wanted for his music, should have left this matter so open.

This was a performance of great stature; brooding and sinister however. Davis obviously sees the piece as a dramatic ritual where there’s no time for reflection and where the landscape is truly terrifying. He treated the music dispassionately, bringing out the intensely cold atmosphere and building a monolithic structure. At the end, with no slackening of tempo, the music simply stopped and the world Davis had created for us collapsed into nothingness. This was a magnificent achievement.

Bob Briggs


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