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Elgar and Dvořák: Tasmin Little (violin), Seattle Symphony, Gerard Schwarz, Benaroya Hall, Seattle, 12 and 14.3.2009 (BJ)

Elgar: Violin Concerto
Dvořák: Symphony No. 6


The pairing of one of the three greatest classical violin concertos ever written with my favorite Dvořák symphony promised an enticing feast. And the reality experienced on the Thursday evening so far surpassed expectation that I went back on Saturday for a second helping.

The estimate of the Elgar Violin Concerto offered above may, to some readers, look tendentious. Yet, aside from Mozart’s masterly but by his later standards relatively minor violin concertos, surely only those of Beethoven, Brahms, and Elgar can stand as exemplary realizations of the classical concerto principle. Following on from the example of Mendelssohn, the violin concertos of Bruch, Tchaikovsky, Sibelius, and a host of others have reached high standards of invention–and popularity–in a simpler romantic form. But it is only with the potential for subtlety of solo-tutti relations provided by the device of the opening orchestral ritornello, or first exposition, that the very greatest musical heights can be reached. The difference is essentially that between the instant gratification of the form without ritornello and the deferred kind that we get from the more ambitious design–in those three great cases, truly romantic in musical content and at the same time magisterially classical in form.

In Elgar’s case, certainly, the ambition brings with it an expansiveness of scale that some listeners find excessive. To my ears, his Violin Concerto, like Satyajit Ray’s “Apu” films or Proust’s monumental novel, is exactly as long as its wealth of beautiful and complex material demands. As the accompanied cadenza that occupies something like half of the finale follows its wistfully reminiscent course, that material reaches a fulfilment that plucks at the heartstrings. But it can only do so if an excellent violinist is playing.

For the playing we heard in these performances, “excellent” is by far too weak a word. Where has Tasmin Little been all my life? Having now heard her for the first–and the second–time, I have no hesitation in declaring that this is one of the supremely great violinists of our time. Her tone in every register was ravishingly lovely, her articulation (through all the extraordinary ardors of this exceptionally taxing work) impeccably crisp and clean, her phrasing eloquent in the extreme, her response to every one of the composer’s indicated nuances unstintingly complete. Her playing awakened, for me, memories of one violinist of an earlier generation: Erica Morini, who had a similar purity of tone, probably in part the result of uncompromisingly straight bowing, and a comparable feeling for style and expression. Little’s performance was the finest realization of this masterpiece I can remember hearing, and Gerard Schwarz and the Seattle Symphony were no less splendid in support, or rather partnership.

Then the Dvořák. Please note that I said “my favorite,” not “the greatest,” Dvořák symphony. The latter designation may perhaps belong to No.7. But No.6 possesses a freshness of inspiration, a salubriousness of tone, and a resourcefulness of thematic treatment that I find especially appealing. The subordinate theme of the first movement may well be rivaled only by a melody in the finale of the Cello Concerto and that marvelous waltz in the Scherzo capriccioso for the title of Dvořák’s most gorgeous tune. The concluding Allegro con spirito of the Sixth Symphony, at any rate, is clearly the most masterly finale he ever wrote – and the performance on this occasion was of a quality to make the whole work sound equally masterly.

It was the kind of performance you can only draw from an orchestra if you have been conducting it for nearly a quarter of a century, or if you are a great conductor–or, of course, both. Maestro Schwarz, whose interpretations of the massive works of Mahler and Shostakovich are unrivaled in these days, does not always convince equally in symphonies more closely bound to the Viennese classical tradition, but this was a performance in a thousand. If Little reminded me of Morini, Schwarz in this vein brought the spontaneity and flexibility of Victor de Sabata to mind. Like that master’s recording of the Brahms Fourth Symphony, or for that matter an incredible live performance of the Brahms Third by Riccardo Muti I heard once in Philadelphia, Schwarz’s Dvořák Sixth responded to every new idea with a generosity (sometimes expanding the pulse, at other times pressing eagerly forward) that yet never undermined the unity of this brilliantly organized structure. And the orchestra responded in turn with near-perfect unanimity. The strings were at once rich and incisive; the woodwinds – notably principal flutist Scott Goff and oboist Ben Hausmann, recently promoted from acting principal to the real deal – contributing solid ensemble work and many beguiling solos; John Cerminaro was as poetic and polished as ever in the slow movement’s frequently highlighted first-horn part; and timpanist Michael Crusoe punctuated the proceedings with remarkable clarity and rhythmic point.

The trumpets, trombones, and tuba, meanwhile, were playing in an unfamiliar position, at the back of the stage rather than against the stage-left wall. The change, apparently suggested by the players themselves, certainly did seem to result in an improved sonic focus; my impression on the Thursday was of a touch of coarseness in the tone, but by Saturday, with more familiarity, the musicians had already refined their sound. The set-up would probably be impracticable with a larger brass complement, or when there is a sizeable percussion section to be fitted in, and I am not sure whether the players need to be placed on quite so high a riser. Being a former brass-player himself – in his day quite possibly the greatest trumpeter in the history of the world – Schwarz is not the man to follow Richard Strauss’ precept, “Never look at the brass; it only encourages them.” Yet the total effect made by these expert players was by no means excessively loud. They sounded majestic, as Elgar’s and Dvořák’s brass choir should, but they never drowned out the other orchestral sections, and indeed the overall balance throughout the second evening was just about as excellent as could have been wished.

I know we are only in March as I write, but the rewards Tasmin Little, Gerard Schwarz, and the Seattle Symphony (not to mention Elgar and Dvořák) lavished on us in this superb pair of concerts established it at once as a practical certainty for next winter’s Performances of the Year list.

Bernard Jacobson


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