SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Ligeti, Debussy, Bartók, R. Strauss: Radu Lupu (piano), Cleveland Orchestra / Franz Welser-Möst (conductor) Severance Hall, Cleveland, 17.1.2009 (MSJ)

Ligeti: Atmospheres
Debussy: “Nuages” from Three Nocturnes
Bartók: Piano Concerto No. 3
R. Strauss: An Alpine Symphony


In 1978, a carload of young musicians were crossing a bridge outisde of Linz, Austria, on their way to play Schubert, when one of the passengers, an 18-year old violinist named Franz Möst, heard the otherworldly sound of the automobile’s tires hissing across clear, black ice. Seconds later, his career as a violinist was over. In the years since then, restyling himself as Franz Welser-Möst, the young man has grown up to become a prominent, if controversial, conductor. The key to understanding Welser-Möst's sleek, restrained but at times volatile sound world is in those icy seconds before the accident. Welser-Möst’s life has become a mission to master the rapt, all-powerful silence, to continue staring down the void which in that moment tried to destroy him… and lost. Today, Welser-Möst is music director of the Cleveland Orchestra, an ensemble well-suited to fearless calm, and the players joined him on Saturday night in a transcendent search for stillness.

The theme of the program was given by György Ligeti’s Atmospheres, which opened. It will be hard to return to those old dutiful but rough recordings made in the 1960s and used in 2001: A Space Oddysey after hearing the luminous, gleaming clarity the Cleveland players brought to Ligeti’s dense yet delicate web of sound. Welser-Möst led it with calm, spacious pacing, distinguishing an incredible variety of qualities and textures, even at the most hushed volume. It was impossible to tell where it ended, with Welser-Möst continuing to beat time into the silence after all sound had dissipated.

Debussy’s “Nuages” from the Three Nocturnes followed next, with an almost shining refinement. Welser-Möst’s detractors dislike how remote, how pristine he can be in music like this, but they neglect the otherworldly poise that he achieves. I will admit that someone like Bernard Haitink has demonstrated that there’s room for personal inflection in this music, but within the context of the program exploring subtly varying atmospheres, it worked quite fine.

Radu Lupu joined the orchestra for an adorable performance of Bartók’s Piano Concerto No. 3. It was a revelation for me. I’ve heard the piece many times over the years, including in concert, but Lupu brought it to life, finding the whimsical humor of the first movement, making eye contact with players as they traded notes back and forth. The hymn-like opening of the slow movement brought a rapt contribution from the orchestra, and a touching simplicity from Lupu. The atmospheric night sounds scherzo in the middle was light and deft, combining later with the hymn on a rarified plane. The finale was full of life, with Lupu and the Clevelanders interweaving counterpoint.

The richest atmospheres of the night came with Richard Strauss’ An Alpine Symphony. It seems this often misunderstood conductor was born to lead this often misunderstood work. Dismissed so often as an overwrought travelogue, the Alpine Symphony is anything but. Vividly pictorial though it is, the piece is full of passages hinting at personal significance. For instance, the cowbells in the meadow section aren’t mere scene painting. They refer to Gustav Mahler, who died while Strauss was sketching this work. And the travelogue interpretation does nothing to explain the “Elegy” section, nor the “Vision,” which is the real turning point, making the transition from exaltation to dread.

Welser-Möst understands these things and unleashed one of the finest renditions I’ve ever heard. His ascent was swift and exhilarating, never letting the music bog down in passing moments. The summit was glorious, yet skillfully balanced—no vulgar blaring of brass here. Welser-Möst’s emphasis, rather, was on the following “Vision,” transforming simple ecstasy into something more vulnerable, more volatile. And volatile is indeed the word for what followed. Welser-Möst used a characteristic left-hand, patting gesture to keep hushing players further and further during the “Calm Before the Storm,” to the point where even the bronchial boomers in the audience were caught up in the tension. Then the storm erupted with a ferocity I’ve rarely heard Welser-Möst unleash. He made it clear that this was no mere scene-painting, driving the music with fury. The long wind-down was soothing, returning inevitably to the night with which the piece opened, and the release into black silence. Alas, the perfect staring down of the void was marred on this occasion by a jabbering husband and wife in the front row who didn’t even register the look of contempt Welser-Möst shot at them before turning back to cue the final entrance of the violins.

Mark Sebastian Jordan

Mark Sebastian Jordan is an award-winning freelance journalist, playwright and poet based near Cleveland, Ohio.


^{Back to Top                                                    Cumulative Index Page}