SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Berlioz, Sibelius and Rachmaninov: Nicola Benedetti (violin), Philharmonia Orchestra, Hugh Wolff, Royal Festival Hall, London, 30.4.2009 (BBr)

Berlioz Overture Le carnaval romain, op.9 (1844)
Sibelius Violin Concerto in D minor, op.47 (1903 rev 1905)
Rachmaninov Symphonic Dances, op.45 (1940)


It was obvious from the very first note of the Berlioz Overture – an overture to start a concert, how refreshing – that Wolff meant business. This was a bright and breezy reading of Berlioz’s sparkling piece, with some very distinguished cor anglais playing from Jill Crowther in the love music.

The Concerto started with such a whisper from the orchestral violins – a true pianissimo – and Benedetti’s entry seemed to float out of it, so gossamer thin and light as a feather, that it was quite breathtaking. Benedetti had us in the palm of her hand and so completely had she grabbed me that it wasn’t until half way through the cadenza that I realised the absence of the orchestra. This was a fine interpretation, indeed, one of the finest I have ever heard. Everything was beautifully balanced, the soloist was always fully audible – not always the case with works for the violin with a large orchestra – and every note really spoke to us. The slow movement was rich and spacious and the finale was rollicking good fun. Wolff and the orchestra responded to Bennedetti at every turn and worked in perfect harmony. I would willingly have listened to it again were that possible.

After the interval what is essentially Rachmaninov’s 4^th Symphony – the glorious Symphonic Dances. Wolff was in total control of his interpretation – he knew exactly where he was going from the first, tentative, notes of the violins. The ebb and flow of the first movement were particularly impressively handled, and the appearance, near the end, of the reminiscence of the main theme of his, then lost, 1^st Symphony was full of nostalgia for a vanished era. The waltz had a sinister overtone to it tonight; I have always thought that this music wasn’t as “nice” as it appears to be. Wolff has discovered the undercurrents and he brought them to the fore and made this music very uncomfortable. But it is the finale where Rachmaninov makes his boldest strokes. This music is wild and desperate, almost out of control, the horns raise their bells in the air and scream the Dies Irae, the tam tam leaves a loud stroke unstopped and the world ends. Well, that’s how it felt in this performance.

This was bold, fantastic, thrilling and, above all, as near perfect as you could hope for. It was a real show of respect for the excellence of the performance that, instead of rushing off as soon as the music finished, the majority of the audience remained rooted to their seats shouting and applauding.

Bob Briggs


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