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Handel, Vivaldi, and Tchaikovsky: Carolyn Kuan, cond., Ben Hausmann, oboe, Seattle Symphony, Benaroya Hall, Seattle, 11.12.2008 (BJ)


To judge from the composers’ names on the program, you might have expected a split between 18th-century elegance before intermission and romantic lushness after, but things didn’t turn out quite as simple as that. Stepping onto the podium for this set of subscription concerts, Seattle Symphony assistant conductor Carolyn Kuan drew considerable eloquence from the strings in Handel’s C-minor C-minor Concerto grosso, Op. 6 No. 8, and Vivaldi’s C-major Oboe Concerto, RV 447.

A purist might with some justification have complained about anachronistic indulgence in the use of vibrato. But not being a purist myself, and knowing the contemporary evidence for the expressive intensity the baroque masters displayed when they played their own works, I think generating such intensity is a more positive aspect of good baroque performance than austere avoidance of emotion.

So I thoroughly enjoyed both Kuan’s interpretation of a masterpiece from Handel’s inexhaustibly entertaining Opus 6, and her sympathetic support for principal oboist Ben Hausmann’s mellifluous playing in the Vivaldi concerto. Her pacing of both the slow and the fast movements of the Handel, in particular, was judicious. The program note, incidentally, described the Andante allegro heading of Handel’s third movement as a “somewhat incongruous tempo marking,” evidently under the illusion that “allegro” means “fast” and “andante” means “slow”–a connotation the latter term had indeed acquired by Tchaikovsky’s time. But in the context of 18th-century usage the most accurate translation that may be suggested for “andante allegro” is “moving along brightly”; there’s nothing incongruous in that, and it was one of Handel’s favorite tempo indications.

It might have been a good idea to allow Kimberly Russ, who played the harpsichord continuo in both works, the chance to offer a few flourishes at cadential points and pauses in the music. When we came to Tchaikovsky after intermission, however, there was surely no ground for complaint about Kuan’s grasp of style. She shaped the Symphony No. 1, subtitled Winter Dreams, with impressive panache, cannily blending romantic passion with classical poise.

The symphony duly made its impact as a work of precocious mastery. Except for a few minutes at the end that are blemished by rather raucous overuse of the cymbals, this is by some margin the best of the three Tchaikovsky symphonies that preceded the great final sequence numbered Four through Six. Here, especially in the slow movement, the richly saturated tone of the strings came compellingly into its own. Kuan’s repertoire of gesture and body language elicited a correspondingly well-characterized range of expression from the orchestra, vividly realizing the variety of texture that coexists in the music with a continuity of mood that the composer didn’t always achieve.

Wind and brass dissonances were gently intoned, delicate syncopations deftly touched in. The horn section majestic proclamations foreshadowed some comparable fanfares in No. 4, though without the freight of fatefulness they carry there, and Michael Crusoe’s timpani made as strong an effect at the soft end of the dynamic range as in the more obvious loud passages. Altogether the concert provided encouraging evidence of further maturing from a talented young conductor.

Bernard Jacobson

NB: A shorter version of this review appeared in the Seattle Times.

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