SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Ketting, Prokofiev, Brahms: Yefim Bronfman (piano), Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, Mariss Jansons (conductor), Carnegie Hall, New York, 5.2.2008 (BH)

Otto Ketting: Die aankomst (The Arrival) (1992)
Prokofiev: Piano Concerto No. 3 in C Major, Op. 26 (1917-21)
Brahms: Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 73 (1877)


If only the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra would bring more rare items like Otto Ketting's Die aankomst.  In the last few years—or at least, in New York—the orchestra's repertoire has seemed more conservative than what they offer in Amsterdam.  (So far, Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic have the best track record of the "big name" orchestras in presenting recent music.)  I can't even recall seeing Ketting's name on a program here, so good for them for addressing that oversight.

Ketting describes one aspect of his work as "like a steamship which has docked and the machines are still heard running softly," and I would add that that one can also discern foghorns, splashing and spray, all of which emerge from the gently pulsing surface.  The feathery shimmer increases near the end when the glockenspiel finally enters, and the piece ends in a burst of radiance.  Several people behind me were commenting on John Adams, and Ketting's ostinatos bear some resemblance to Adams's chugging patterns.  Conductor Mariss Jansons and a smallish orchestra captured every jewel-like moment.

Most of my outings with the Prokofiev Third Piano Concerto lately have been with Martha Argerich, who has turned it into something of a signature piece, albeit often something of a speed-skating competition with her collaborators.  (Don't get me wrong: it's fun to hear her.)  But it was a pleasure to hear Yefim Bronfman play it more moderately, with something other than Argerich's "bat out of hell" tempi.  In the first movement, his subdued introduction gave way to much more barbarism, so much so that at the fiery conclusion the spontaneous applause turned to chuckles as Bronfman took a quick little bow.  The second movement, again never too fast, emerged as a highly articulated dream world, always in focus and never blurred, with the orchestra gentle yet precise.  The final movement began from a slower boil than usual, a river of string color wrapping around itself, slinking through the hall.  Bronfman's keystrokes were always audible, right up through the violent conclusion.  To quiet the very vocal audience, he returned for an encore, Chopin's "Revolutionary" Etude, which in its breathless presentation seemed slightly anticlimactic, happy as Bronfman's fans must have been for the gift.

In Brahms's Second Symphony, I kept thinking that the Concertgebouw horns and cellos should have their own recording label.  The latter, especially, were silvery, leaping up like panthers—sometimes almost literally, encouraged by Jansons, who is often athletic on the podium.  The cellos returned for more glory in the second movement, majestic to the core yet able to break out into a storm at a moment's notice.  In the third movement the oboe was like an insistent lover, tugging at you to return to bed.  And to end it all, an allegro con spirito that, after a quiet opening, positively exploded in sprays of Dvořák-ian rhythms.  I must have heard this symphony dozens of times live, but the old saw proved true: I've never heard it sound like this.

Two expertly played encores capped off a generous evening: Brahms's vivacious Hungarian Dance No. 6 in B-flat Major, and a rousing Elien a Magyar (Hail to Hungary) by Johann Strauss, Jr.

Bruce Hodges


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