In 1983, conductor Iván 
          Fischer co-founded (with Zoltán Kocsis) the Budapest Festival 
          Orchestra, the first of this year’s Prom visitors. Its frequent appearances 
          at music festivals throughout the world has sealed its reputation as 
          a fine orchestra and the opening work of this concert, Beethoven’s The 
          Creatures of Prometheus – Overture showed why: this was a crisp 
          and buoyant performance, with Fischer taking the work at the 
          correct frantic pace.
        
        The orchestral balance was perfectly 
          judged, with all members of this distinctive orchestra shining through. 
          Notable was the sound of the eight double basses which were placed at 
          the back of the platform, providing a firm foundation for the rest of 
          the orchestra. The BFO play with the sensitive ears of chamber players, 
          giving the orchestra a distinctly taut and dark, refined but rugged 
          paradoxa of sounds: unified but never homogenised.
        
        However, the conducting of the 
          first movement of the Brahms’ Piano Concerto No. 1 in D minor 
          was laboured and dragged, with Fischer lacking forward momentum, drama 
          and the necessary tension that this emotionally charged music requires. 
          The conductor’s stodgy conducting was mirrored by Stephen Hough’s heavy 
          handed and turgid playing.
        
        Unexpectedly Hough’s playing took 
          on a tranquil sensitivity in the Adagio, floating his phrases 
          with a subtle refinement and delicacy, almost fragmenting the notes 
          yet never allowing the music to topple into anarchy. Fischer gave the 
          illusion of making the music sound very slow and distant due to the 
          subtle, delicate playing of the antiphonal violins and mellow, refined 
          woodwind.
        
       
            
        Unfortunately, Hough resumed his 
          aggressive playing in the Rondo with the notes sounding excessively 
          loud and congested and the phrasing blurred. In the closing passages 
          the pianist made an arbitrarily elongated pause purely for effect. Fischer 
          was in far more sympathy with this movement, conducting it with a rhythmic 
          tautness and lilting swagger.
            
        Just as Gustav Mahler (1860-1911) 
          was considered primarily as a conductor, so Sergey Rakhmaninov (1873-1943) 
          was known principally as a prodigious virtuoso pianist, and both their 
          reputations as composers were somewhat marginalized in their lifetime. 
          
        
        It is interesting to speculate 
          why many great conductors (such as Toscanini, Cantelli, Walter, Furtwangler, 
          Klemperer, Monteux, and Celibidache) never recorded any of Rakhmaninov’s 
          three Symphonies. Perhaps one of the reasons why this music seems to 
          have been undervalued in comparison to that of his contemporaries is 
          its overt romanticism, which has unjustly led the works to being seen 
          as schmaltzy film music, with a certain vulgarity and sentimentality. 
          None of this was evident in Fischer’s subtle and refined interpretation 
          of Rakhmaninov Symphony No. 2 in E minor (1906-7) – a performance 
          which stripped away any rhetorical excesses and theatrical effects by, 
          if anything, understating the score.
        
        While the Brahms was unevenly 
          conducted, after the interval Fischer had regained total control of 
          dynamics and tempi, leaning toward classical severity rather than overt 
          romanticism. The slow long introduction - Largo; Allegro moderato 
          - was wonderfully reserved and never dragged and the conductor 
          brought out the snarling dissonances in the horns, consequently making 
          the work sound far more sinister than usual. An exquisitely played oboe 
          solo introduces the first subject while a poignantly played clarinet 
          heralds the second, its short phrases wailing memorably. 
        
        The Allegro molto was conducted 
          with a laid-back yet sprightly lilt, coaxing the orchestra to play with 
          chamber-like intimacy and precision. The Adagio was sublime: 
          one felt an uncanny tension and hushed concentration from the audience 
          who seemed to be mesmerised by the sensitive playing of the strings 
          which often seemed suspended in time. Again the music never lingered 
          and it was Fischer’s sensitive reserve that permitted the lyricism to 
          seep through.
        
        This was a deeply moving experience, 
          with the score sounding newly-minted, and heard properly for the first 
          time. The memory trace of this movingly hypnotic experience hung like 
          a ghost into the Allegro vivace which sounded almost superfluous. 
          Fischer’s mastery of the orchestral balance and delicacy of phrasing 
          made this often grandiose sounding movement elegant and refined: in 
          the climactic moments every member of this superb orchestra could be 
          heard. The symphony’s resounding conclusion was hugely celebratory without 
          sounding merely bombastic.
        
        The Promenaders showed genuine 
          enthusiasm for this majestic performance and kept calling the conductor 
          back, until he finally announced the encore as: "Johann Strauss 
          II’s Eljen a Magyar!" Fischer treated this light, easy-listening 
          party piece in the right carnival spirit, with the BFO giving their 
          patriotic all in this Austrian composer’s tribute to the Hungarian people, 
          rightly bringing the house down. 
        
        
            Alex Russell