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Transfigured Night: Works by Schoenberg, Messiaen & Strauss, City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Andris Nelsons (Conductor) Symphony Hall Birmingham  19.2. 2009 (GR)


Grouping three pieces under the title Transfigured Night was an inspired choice from those who schedule the CBSO concerts. Conductor Andris Nelsons, still in his first year with the CBSO (although such is his impact it seems much longer) rose to the challenge and delivered another stimulating and riveting evening’s diversion. Is this young Latvian conductor exercising a transfiguration of his own on the form of music he dispenses to his Birmingham audiences? Judging by the sounds that resonated across the Birmingham Symphony Hall on Feb 19^th, the answer is a most definite ‘Yes’.

The first example of the transfiguration theme was Arnold Schoenberg’s Verklärte Nacht. Originally conceived as a string sextet in 1899 (an early opus whilst the composer was still in his mid-twenties) the piece was given the revised 1943 treatment for full string orchestra by the CBSO players. Although inspired by a poem from Richard Dehmel’s collection Weib und Welt (Women and the World), Schoenberg’s mature view was that any appreciation of this particular work should be for its music alone, dissociated from any text. This comment is somewhat at odds with the composer’s even later recollections – that he treasured all his output equally because he liked them when they were written. Dehmel’s text portrays the conversation of two lovers on a moonlit night and because it dovetails with the music, I find the two interpretations difficult to divorce from one another. Indeed the dark mood of the Dehmel’s opening stanza that begins ‘Two figures pass through the bare, cold grove’, was immediately simulated by the D minor strains of the CBSO strings. Nelsons created an instant chill from his ensemble; there was a starkness in the music emphasised by the absence of any woodwind, brass or percussion.

Narrative and music are basically divided into two halves. In the first as the female figure confesses she is carrying a previous lover’s child, the atmosphere was distinctly minor and no change of key, however sudden or surprising could shake the off that initial impression. In the second half as the male figure all but rejoices in this fact with ‘Thus is transfigured the child of another man’, the key centre did change to the major, although the music was equally chromatic. However, despite the markings of schrinnig und warm and sehr warm in the score, I failed to discern any appreciable rise in temperature. Not that there weren’t some magical moments to emerge from the dissonant jungle that so often dominates Schoenberg’s uninhibited music: the wonderful vibrations from the eight double basses, the majestic presence of the cellos, the range of bittersweet sounds from the violins and a memorable viola solo from Christopher Yates.

Too often concerts are peppered by excessive intervals, but here the two 15 min ones were unavoidable to cope with the major changes to instrument groupings and personnel. The full complement of CBSO strings were replaced by a veritable army of wind, brass and percussion for the second piece, Olivier Messiaen’s Et exspecto resurrectionem mortuorum. {With this complete change of personnel I could not help but be reminded of all the current talk of redundancy; let’s hope the credit crunch does not irrevocably affect the music scene}. Commissioned by the French government under President Charles de Gaulle in 1964 to commemorate the dead of two World wars, Messiaen took his title from the Nicene Creed phrase And I await the Resurrection of the Dead. Although Messiaen envisaged Et exspecto might be performed in a cavernous cathedral, I don’t think the composer would have been disappointed by the end product that reverberated around the Birmingham Symphony Hall. No stained glass windows for this rendition, but an abundance of colour, glorious Technicolor in fact, particularly when compared to the sepia format from the Schoenberg strings.

Messiaen divided his composition into five movements, each given a scriptural quotation. He even suggested a pause of up to a minute between each part, but Nelsons’ interpretation was to virtually disregard this directive, in line with current practice. Although the whole was better than the sum of the individual parts, features from each movement that were particularly memorable included:

1. From the moment the tubas and trombones growled the opening From the depths of the abyss the sheer theatricality of the work became evident, an impression reinforced by the heart-rending cry of the upper woodwinds>

2. Christ risen from the dead, will never die again impacted me on two counts – the mélodie par manques as instruments are gradually removed from the harmony and the striking series of solo woodwind conversations.

3. No Messiaen piece would be complete without one of his beloved songbirds and this appropriately came during The hour is coming when the dead will hear the voice of God. Messiaen explained in the score preface that the call of the Amazonian uirapiru was chosen for its ‘flute-like’ tones and its relevance to the text since legend has it that ‘people hear it at the time of their death’.

4. They will be resurrected gloriously had an aura of the magnificat about it. All six percussion players contributed a major ear-shattering role.

5. The finale And I heard the voice of a great crowd had the air of a lament. It began slowly and solemnly, the ostinato of the gongs refusing to be dispersed.

But the overriding impression left upon me by this stringless CBSO was that I had heard some sounds I had not previously encountered inside or out of concert hall. Much of the plaudits for this ‘new’ music must go of course to Messiaen, but the performance is equally crucial and Nelsons must be given credit for his precisive control, not only on the extended chords but also on the fermata silences. With his long arms outstretched I wondered if Nelsons had ever played basketball.

Preferences among the audience were rife in the second interval – Schoenberg’s string offering or Messiaen’s everything but alternative. The third and final item Richard Strauss’ tone poem Tod und Verklärte employed a full balanced orchestra, surely ‘the best of all possible worlds’ to quote Bernstein’s Candide. Again the piece had words associated with it (a poetic interpretation by Strauss’ friend Alexander Ritter concerning the recollections of a dying man) but this time scripted after the music had been composed – Prima la musica e poi le parole. From the initial stuttering chords, there was a settled tempo from Nelsons in the Largo. The pensive mood was converted into one of reminiscence by the beautiful flute of Marie-Christine Zupancic – Ritter’s image of a sick man approaching death so pertinent. The timpani shattered this aura as the CBSO smoothly changed gear into the Allegro molto agitato as the angst of life’s battle surfaced. Within the discordant turmoil the transfiguration motive was introduced and the flute theme re-emerged, a brief respite from the clutches of death. In Meno mosso there was more time for violent flashes from the past before the glorious triumph of the transfiguration itself in the final Moderato movement, so Wagnerian I thought.

All three pieces on the Transfigured Night theme were of similar length and dated from 1890 and later, but they featured completely different components and interpretations. It would have been interesting to conduct a straw poll on which item most pleased the seemingly satisfied audience. I believe the chosen order, whether logistically selected or otherwise, achieved the ideal emotional build-up to end the evening on a high. The way Nelsons held the close of each number, both CBSO players and audience, illustrated how firmly his feet are planted on the Birmingham Symphony Hall podium.

Geoff Read


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