Rerurn to Romy the Cat's Site

A New Bridge to Old Russia
By Heuwell Tircuit

When the rather newly minted National Philharmonic of Russia ended its local debut concert, Sunday evening in Davies Symphony Hall, the audience was on its feet, wildly cheering and even whistling. Under the sound leadership of violinist-turned-conductor Vladimir Spivakov, you would have thought this was an orchestra with a 100-year-old tradition, so beautifully balanced and flawlessly stylish were its performances. But no, the orchestra was founded only in 2003, with support from the Russian Cultural Ministry on a commission from President Vladimir Putin.

Spivakov opened with Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet Overture Fantasy, followed by Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor, Op.18. After intermission, Spivakov led the orchestra in Rachmaninov’s last orchestral work, the Symphonic Dances, Op. 45. As an encore he offered the Trepak from Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker ballet. The young virtuoso Olga Kern served as soloist in the concerto, and added a solo encore, Rachmaninov’s transcription of the Gopak from Mussorgsky’s unfinished comic opera, Sorochintsy Fair.

Although recently formed, the National Philharmonic has gathered a large number of fine, experienced players — likely by raiding other, existing organizations. (There were no shortage of gray-haired musicians on stage.) They sat in classical formation, first violins to the left and seconds to the right, which added much clarity to the textural interplay common in these scores. The warmth of the overall string section, along with great precision of intonation and bowing, no doubt at Spivakov’s insistence, made a stunning first impression.

Rare Refinement and Beautiful Sound

Then, too, the orchestra’s attention to minute dynamic shifts was as polished as the Boston Symphony’s during the legendary Sergei Koussevitzky era (1924-1949). They consistently maintained gradations between piano, mezzo-piano and pianissimo, and louder volume levels as well. As remarkable as this was, their strongest asset was a beauty of sound that almost never faltered (More on that later.) Make no mistake, this ensemble must now be counted among the top 10, internationally: It is as fine an ensemble as any I have encountered.

Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet, a one-movement symphony that he chose to designate “Fantasy Overture,” opens with a quiet chorale. The National Philharmonic played it most delicately, before all hell broke loose in the sonata-allegro heart of the piece. When the funerary coda rolled around, it proved, in this performance, as impressively moving as anything in the composer’s operas or symphonies. Of course, the work is like mother’s milk to most any orchestra or concert audience. But this fact only made the orchestra's singular performance more remarkable. It wasn’t an “oh, that warhorse again” event, but a refreshing experience.

Pianist Kern is young and tall, with flowing blond hair, and fingers that posses all the dexterity and speed of a falcon. Those assets no doubt helped her win the Rachmaninov International Piano Competition and the 2001 Van Cliburn International Competition. You might have seen her gold medal performance of the finale of Rachmaninov’s Concerto No. 3 on TV’s Classical Arts Showcase program. In either concerto, her problems were consistent.

A Headstrong, Unmusical Soloist

First, she had rhythmic flaws and was inattentive. During complex virtuoso passages, tempo be damned, she would dart ahead, paying little or no heed to what the orchestra was doing. She caused ensemble sloppiness several times during this performance. Then, too, her feeling for rubato in the solo passages always took the hard-sell path. Her cadences did not so much slow down as expire.

Carrying the showbiz element even further, when the piano was silent for a purely orchestral episode, she mimed ecstasy, swaying back and forth, head raised to the heavens, eyes closed. (I loathe that kind of overt egoistic sham, which is all such behavior amounts to.) Her encore, Mussorgsky’s Gopak, was so squeezed and distorted that the end result was a model of vulgar playing.

Here’s a trivia question: How many symphonies did Rachmaninov write? Well, the answer can be three, four, five or six, depending on how you care to look at it. The standard numbering is, of course, three. But there is also his unnumbered choral symphony, The Bells, Op. 35. Then there is the one surviving movement of an early symphony in D minor, the so-called Youth Symphony, which brings the total to five. And finally, if numbers interest you, the Symphonic Dances counts as another symphony, one with too modest a title.

Rerurn to Romy the Cat's Site