Ingo
Metzmacher has made a speciality of imaginative
and thought-provoking programming, and this
superb concert provided an ideal example of
that: it could be called the ‘anti-military’
presentation of music with a martial theme,
and if the aim was to reflect upon the sadness
of war rather than its supposed glory, then
the evening was a triumphant success. Adès’
short piece was his earliest one for full
orchestra, and was first heard as the introductory
piece to a performance of Britten’s War
Requiem, a fitting juxtaposition given
the later work’s mood of quiet remembrance
and acceptance. The sound world presented
here is built up of contrasts between the
dulcet patterns created by antique cymbals
and triangles and the more robust development
of the initial sketches provided by the full
orchestra, and the LPO under Metzmacher’s
highly spirited direction managed to make
it seem like a chamber work despite the huge
forces involved.
Mahler’s
set of ‘military nocturnes’ and folk song
settings lend themselves to varying methods
of presentation, with the whole set sung by
two or three singers, or as here, with a strongly
connected group of seven, all sung by Matthias
Goerne who made it abundantly clear that this
music is about the desperate sadness of war
and the loneliness and isolation of its more
vulnerable participants rather than any glorification
of battle. Goerne clearly loves this music
with a passion, and he characteristically
takes risks with it – this is daring, thought-provoking
singing, not without its white knuckle moments
for both performers and audience, but that’s
what happens when you take risks rather than
settling for the more usual combination of
blandness and heartiness. ‘Wo die schönen
trompeten blasen’ immediately revealed the
exceptional intimacy of accord between conductor
and singer: taken unusually slowly and quietly,
Metzmacher’s spacious pacing allowed Goerne
to achieve the most astonishingly quiet pianissimi
whilst still being audible, and to caress
phrases such as ‘Bei meinem Herzallerlieble’
which was given in a single arc of the most
golden tone. This is an elegiac, poetic interpretation
of the music, without swagger but full of
foreboding.
Goerne
is however able to assume a vocal swagger
when required, as in ‘Der Schildwache Nachtlied’
where he demonstrated his forte and
his technical assurance – a wonderfully evenly
controlled diminuendo at ‘Rund!’ and the most
perfect progression of tone at that final
‘Verlorne Feldwacht / Sang es um Mitternacht…Feldwacht!’
The two ‘lighter’ songs, ‘Lob des hohen Verstandes’
and ‘Des Antonius von padua Fischpredigt’
were effectively placed between the sentry’s
song and a wonderfully selfless performance
of the challenging ‘Urlicht:’ without any
undue histrionics, without any egotistical
withdrawing into the self, Goerne simply states
the lot of Mankind, and it is his directness
in such music which makes his singing so affirmative
even when the burden of the song is a bleak
one: ‘…das ewig selig Leben!’ can seldom have
been so glowingly suggested.
Goerne’s
breath control and variety of vocal colour
in the ‘Tralalei’ sections of ‘Revelge’ were
amazing, but so eager was he to sing ‘Ich
muss wohl meine Trommel ruhren’ that he tried
to come in with it too early, not once, but
twice, and had to be restrained by Metzmacher’s
hand firmly placed on his elbow… no harm done,
they got it all back without damaging the
musical line – that’s just what happens when
you take risks in a live performance. ‘Der
Tamboursg’sell’ was a fitting conclusion,
evoking all the drummer-boy’s sense of foreboding,
his attempts at bravado and his forlorn stoicism:
Goerne managed to suggest the boy singing
to console himself in the dark, and it is
precisely this sense of being temporarily
let into a private world which characterizes
his uniquely perceptive singing.
I’ve
spent much longer than I know all the other
critics will on the Mahler, simply because
this repertoire is my speciality, and I know
that others will provide a full assessment
of the Shostakovich, but this is not to disparage
the marvellous performance of the C minor
8th. No disputes here about the
character of the music: Metzmacher had made
up his mind that the composer was speaking
from the heart rather than just for the official
record when he opined that the work was ‘optimistic,
life-affirming’ and that its overall concept
can be summed up as ‘life is beautiful.’ Of
course, this fitted perfectly with the tenor
of the evening: Metzmacher led a performance
which, although not by any means weak in terms
of grandeur or sense of urgency, was characterized
by its stress on the more lyrical, personal
aspects of the work, and, dare one say it,
by its Mahlerian sense of elegy.
The
wonderful Cor Anglais solo which forms the
work’s most individual moment was played with
limpid beauty by Sue Bohling, not as a triumphal
announcement of the ‘hero’ but as an almost
hesitant expression of his presence. The same
kind of quiet, intense dignity was especially
evident in the final movement: you really
did get a sense that this was ‘bright, joyful
music of pastoral quality’ from those silvery
trumpets and softly pulsating double-basses.
One would seek in vain for any raw, visceral
quality in this interpretation, but this was
as valid a concept as any other I have heard,
and certainly in accord with the composer’s
declared intentions. This was my first experience
of this conductor, who with a pleasing appropriateness
has since 1997 distinguished himself as General
Music Director of Hamburg, the city where
Mahler was once Chief Conductor, and who will
take up the prime post of Chief Conductor
at the Netherlands Opera in 2005: he’s clearly
a real individual, with a highly impressive
technique and obvious rapport with the players
– he wields a pretty firm singer-grabbing
arm, too.
Melanie Eskenazi
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