SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Brahms, Liszt and Scriabin: Leif Ove Andsnes (piano), New York Philharmonic, Riccardo Muti (conductor), Avery Fisher Hall, New York, 19.1.2008 (BH)

Brahms: Concerto No. 2 in B-flat major for Piano and Orchestra, Op. 83 (1878-81)

Liszt: Von der Weige bis zum Grabe (From the Cradle to the Grave), Symphonic Poem No. 13 (1881-82)

Scriabin: Le Poème de l’extase (The Poem of Ecstasy), Op. 54 (1905-08)


In the first of two weekends with the New York Philharmonic, Riccardo Muti began with an imposing yet unpretentious Brahms Second Piano Concerto, with Leif Ove Andsnes at the keyboard.  Andsnes, whose renown with Grieg and contemporary composers might make him an unlikely Brahmsian, was hugely successful: one friend at intermission said he had never heard the piano part played with such clarity.  Hyperbole aside, it was a reading to savor, one in which each of the pianist’s gestures mattered, and every phrase could be heard riding above the orchestra.  Muti, with characteristic control, kept the ensemble at a congenial volume level, allowing Andsnes to emerge without hammering.  And Andsnes wasn’t the only star.  Mellow horn figures at the beginning appeared later, equally intact, melding well with the churning orchestral texture.  Andsnes offered virile accents, supple arpeggios and in general, keen interplay with Muti and the other musicians.  Principal cellist Carter Brey made the most of the opening solo in the slow movement, arguably the high point of the entire performance.  The orchestra offered carefully groomed accompaniment (not to be confused with ”cautious”), and when Brey returned, he sounded if anything, even more searching than before.  At the ovation, Muti stood and applauded him not once, but twice.

Liszt’s 14-minute Von der Wiege bis zum Grabe (From the Cradle to the Grave) hadn’t been performed by the orchestra since Bernard Haitink did it in 1978—hard to believe—until you notice that its first appearance here was only seven years earlier, in 1971 with Michael Gielen.  Inspired by a print by Hungarian artist Mihály Zichy, Liszt created this tone poem in three parts, the first with just violins, violas, two flutes and harp, and the second for full orchestra.  In the finale, the entire orchestra is used to reprise some of the opening.

Muti’s gentle hand here created a cloud of delicacy, with the softest moments of the night, including the ending, fading away in death.  The strings, often muted, had the gentle breath of an infant, the woodwinds, the murmurs of a child.

Once again, master annotator James Keller unearthed a gem, this time from author Henry Miller, who after hearing Scriabin’s music deemed it ”a bath of ice, cocaine, and rainbows” (Nexus, 1960).  Muti has long championed such a plunge, capturing its hallucinations in the relative safety of the concert hall.  Last season with the same orchestra, he conducted the composer’s Third Symphony, ”Le Poème Divin,” which is much less concise than L’extase, yet Muti was able to make Scriabin’s sometimes repetitive, meandering score sound tighter than it is.  This performance was even more memorable.

The ecstasy described is of the spiritual kind, in which humankind enters a sort of paradise garden, a unity of souls, an ascent into a light-filled universe, rather than a more earthly ecstasy borne of sexual union.  Despite this, the work has a mounting orgasmic frenzy, with plateaus every few minutes that seem to trump the previous one.  The orchestra’s brass section, topped by principal trumpet Philip Smith in crack form, rolled out wave after wave of diabolic fascination.  It is the kind of piece that will leave an audience screaming at the radiant fortissimo conclusion, and why not?  Sonic bliss doesn’t get more dazzling than the last few white-hot bars.

Bruce Hodges


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