Artist at Work

The 2022 concert season, at least pianistically, ended on a very high note with Sergei Babayan’s concerto debut with the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra.

 

Mr. Babayan had of course made his debut in Vancouver already, in a highly distinguished recital for The Vancouver Chopin Society, in the pre-pandemic days of 2017. Since then, his schedule has been very full indeed, with appearances with artists like Daniil Trifonov and Martha Argerich, recording dates, his very busy teaching studio, and appearances with orchestras. Perhaps this is why it has taken our orchestra so long to obtain a date with him. But better late than never, because Friday night’s concert was probably one of the Vancouver Symphony’s most memorable concerts since live performances began. For this concert, Babayan chose to play Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 25 in C Major, K. 503.

 

With the piano’s first entry, I immediately knew that we were in for a very special performance. I had heard this very instrument played by many outstanding artists that played with the orchestra, and in recitals, but I had not heard a musician produced such a luminous, iridescent sound from these keys. There was a sense of lightness and buoyancy with each note, and each run. And with what profound emotion he played the gorgeous G major piano theme!

 

In the second movement, the four simple descending notes, C, A, F and E, was played with such simplicity but transcendent beauty, that illuminated the entire movement. At times, the sounds emanating from the instrument were no longer piano sounds, but just sounds of pure beauty and joy. In the third movement, Babayan played the music with the enthusiasm of a schoolboy, in the very best sense of the word, with a palpable exuberance that makes one want to stand up and cheer. It was truly a breathtaking, and breathtakingly luminous, performance of one of Mozart’s most majestic concerti.

 

As with any great Mozart performance, one is reminded of the operatic nature of much of the composer’s works. Last Friday evening’s performance so reminded me of Le Nozze di Figaro, with the soloist taking all the parts, and the orchestra commenting on the action!

 

Inspired by Babayan’s artistry, the orchestra and Otto Tausk were sympathetic partners in this memorable performance. The orchestra’s woodwinds, especially, contributed much to the tapestry of sound colours. 

 

With the uncertainties and vicissitudes of traveling today, the orchestra was plagued with a couple of high-profile cancellations this season. I am glad that Vancouver audiences had this opportunity to witness the artistry of this great artist and musician, and I hope that Mr. Babayan will be a frequent visitor to our city.

Orchestral Debut - Charles Richard-Hamelin

I ventured into Vancouver’s Orpheum Theatre last Saturday for my first live Vancouver Symphony Orchestra concert in almost two years. In spite of being masked for an hour and a half, the concert turned out to be a more than worthwhile experience. The programme was tailored for a somewhat scaled-down orchestra because of our present social distancing requirements.

 

Music director Otto Tausk led the orchestra in a spirited reading of Joseph Bologne’s Overture to L’Amant anonyme. It was my first exposure to the music of this French classical composer, a contemporary of Mozart - Bologne was eleven years Mozart’s senior. Born in the West Indies to a planter and an African slave, Bologne was brought to France for education when he was seven. During his adult years, he was active not only as composer, violinist and conductor, but also as a champion fencer. The “overture”, in actuality a symphony in three movements, is composed in the gallant style, and contains a wealth of felicitous melodic materials. It is good that Bologne’s music is becoming better known and more often performed, as he is obviously a highly gifted composer. The orchestra more than rose to the challenges of the music, and Tausk lavished much care into preparing the ensemble in giving a polished performance.

 

The next item on the programme, much better known, was the Pelleas et Melissande Suite by Gabriel Faure. As in the Bologne, this performance was prepared and executed with much care. The justly famous Siciliano was played with great beauty by the flutist Chris James.

 

The great interest of the evening was of course Vancouver Symphony debut of Canadian Charles Richard-Hamelin, silver medalist of the 2015 International Chopin Competition. Hamelin had already given two outstanding solo recitals in Vancouver, but this was his long-awaited debut with the orchestra, one of the last major Canadian orchestras to feature him as concerto soloist. 

 

Appropriately, Hamelin’s choice for his orchestra debut was Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor.

 

Since 2015, when he burst onto the international music scene with his win in Warsaw, Hamelin has matured both as an artist and musician. The freshness of his playing is still there, in spades, but add to that is now a maturity and depth in the music he plays. 

 

From the first chords of his entry in the first movement, it is easy to see why this young Canadian captured the hearts of the Varsovians and the ears of the jury members, for he demonstrated a complete identification with the Chopin idiom, as well as the logic of the composer’s melodic invention. Even with the large number of pianists who make Chopin a major part of their repertoire, there is only really a handful of true Chopinist in every generation. Charles Richard-Hamelin obviously belongs to this very small and select group. 

 

Hamelin played this work with a large palette of tone colours. His sound is always round and beautiful, and never forced. The shaping of each melodic idea was obviously well thought out, but without sacrificing the feeling of freshness and spontaneity. Every inflection was beautiful and poetic. In the second movement, Hamelin drew us into the very intimate sound world of the composer, and highlighted the great inner beauty inherent in the music. There was a hushed quality in his playing of this music, and the audience responded with the greatest compliment that can be afforded to any artist – silence. The Krakowiak rhythm of the third-movement, a stumbling block for many pianists, was brought to life under Hamelin’s hands. 

 

Chopin’s writing for the orchestra has been the subject of much derision. But if one were to examine the score carefully, one can see that the composer’s orchestration is not only highly sensitive in highlighting the solo part, but offers much beauty in itself, especially in the writing for the woodwinds. Tausk and the orchestra acquitted themselves admirably in playing this difficult score, sensitively supporting Hamelin from first note to last. 

 

The years following the winning of a major competition can be difficult ones for a young artist. After the initial buzz and attention of the musical press (and critical opinion can turn without a moment’s notice), a musician can continue to grow and develop into musical maturity, or an initially promising career can fizzle out if he or she merely keeps riding on the initial sensation. It is apparent that Charles Richard-Hamelin has now firmly established himself as a seasoned and mature artist, and we, the listeners, look forward to the coming chapters of his musical and artistic journey.

 

 

 

A New Friendship

One of the most significant events in any orchestra’s history has to be the appointment of a new music director. The Vancouver Symphony Orchestra’s music director-designate, Otto Tausk, returned to town to conduct the orchestra this past weekend. I had the privilege to hear the same concert two days in a row, and many of the things I heard this weekend suggest to me that the orchestra will be in good hands for the next chapter of its life.

The programme Maestro Tausk chose consists of three of the most beloved works of the symphonic canon – Berlioz’s Le Carnaval Romain Overture, Dvorak’s Cello Concerto in B minor, Op. 104, and Brahms’s Symphony No 1 in C minor, Op. 68. At the same time, the very familiarity of these iconic works makes it a challenge for both conductor and musicians alike in bringing a fresh perspective to the music.

The orchestra sounded great throughout Le Carnaval Romain. The tricky ascending and descending scales in the opening with the strings and then the woodwinds sounded confident and energetic, and the ensemble was perfect. English Horn soloist Beth Orson played the theme at m. 20 ravishingly, with beautiful phrasing, a lovely sound, and a wonderful shading of colours. Perhaps inspired by Orson’s playing, the violas sounded equally lovely when they picked up the theme at m. 37, giving a richness of sound and a dark colour unique to that sometimes maligned instrument. The subito pianissimo entry by the first violins at m.61 was beautifully placed. And I loved the bright open sound the orchestra created at the final A major chord. All in all, it was a very good reading of this great orchestral showpiece. It was apparent that Tausk has an acute sense of balancing the horizontal and the vertical aspects of the music.

Dvorak was apparently inspired to write this B minor cello concerto after hearing his friend and American colleague Victor Herbert’s cello concerti. The result was one of Dvorak’s most inspired and masterful works, and a touchstone of the cello repertoire. In this concerto, Dvorak takes the musicians and the listeners through a gamut of emotions, from the very dramatic to the most intimate. I believe that a successful performance of this challenging piece lies not only in securing the services of a world-class cellist, which the orchestra did, but in the conductor’s awareness of the symphonic nature of the work.

I had only known Tanja Tetzlaff as a chamber musician, and I was very happy to have heard her as a concerto soloist, for she has a rich, bold sound that really projects. There were many things about the performance that I liked. In the first movement, Tausk and Tetzlaff chose an opening tempo that was faster than I hear it, thereby affording the music a sense of urgency. The ascending scale for the woodwinds at 4 measures before rehearsal number 2 was, to my ears, a little heavy-handed and metronomic. I was sorry that the gorgeous horn solo in the orchestral exposition (12 measures after rehearsal number 2) had some real intonation problem, and sounded insecure. 

Tetzlaff’s first solo entry had an arresting sound that captured my attention, and she played it with great authority. The crescendo for the short ascending phrase at 10 measures before rehearsal number 4 was particularly beautifully played. I thought that the octave leaps for the strings at rehearsal number 5 could have had a thicker, more substantial sound. The cello solo at rehearsal number 10 was particularly heartfelt, but somehow it failed to be “at one” with the oboe solo. It was not a matter of being together, but somehow the sound of the instruments failed to become part of the same orchestral texture. Perhaps it was because of the faster tempo, the orchestral entry after the ascending chromatic scale for the cello (6 measures after rehearsal number 12) lacked the majesty the music calls for, because it sounded rushed.

The emotional center for the entire concerto lies, for me, in the slow movement. I felt that Tetzlaff’s playing here did not convey the sense of yearning, and the sense of gentle sorrow, so apparent in the music. The orchestral entry at 5 measures after rehearsal number 2 lacked the feeling of lamentation, of a cry of sorrow, as well as an intensity of feelings. I also felt that the horn chorale at rehearsal number 6 missed the sense of intimacy, and lacked a kind of hushed quality in the sound. Moreover, at the quasi cadenza (13 measures after rehearsal number 6), perhaps the most intimate moment of the entire concerto, as if the composer was confiding his most private thoughts, the playing was, for me, too matter-of-fact. Yes, every musical and technical detail was observed, but I wasn’t being drawn into Dvorak’s inner world. Mind you, that could very well have been my own reaction to what was being played.

For me, the third movement turned out to be the most satisfying. It was rhythmically taut, and the tempo here sounded just right. The violas, celli and double basses created a beautiful string tone, with substance in the sound, in the pizzicato passage accompanying the cello at 15 measures before rehearsal number 8. Concertmaster Nicholas Wright had a real dialogue with Tetzlaff in their duet at 17 measures after rehearsal number 11. And the pizzicato passage before the rehearsal number 15 did have a hushed quality to it, as well as a keen sense of anticipation.

Is there anything more arresting than the opening of Brahms’s first symphony? And what an opening it is, with the relentless, almost obsessive strikes of the timpani! Tausk understands the grandiosity of this opening section of the 1^st movement. I did wish for more of a weight in the sound of the strings. As well, there should be, I felt, much more build-up of tension (not necessarily louder) in the strings at mm. 15 -18, and again at mm. 27-29. I also wished for more subtlety in the sound of the oboe solo beginning at m. 29. The Allegro section worked very well. The pacing was good, and there was a real sense of urgency in the forward motion of the music. Again, Tausk balanced the horizontal and vertical aspects of the music well. I had wished for more richness, more substance, in the string sound at mm. 232-236.

The second movement also moved in a very nice pace. I thought that there should have been more of a sense of direction, and more shaping, in the opening phrase. To my ears the ascending theme in the first violins at m. 27 should get lighter as it ascends, to be followed by a significant build-up in sound at m. 29. The woodwinds really shone in this movement with their beautiful playing, as did Nicholas Wright in his heavenly solo toward the end of the movement.

I liked very much Tausk’s tempo choice for the third movement. There was a real sense of urgency and an incredible feeling of forward motion with the flute and oboe theme at m. 47. The conductor evoked a real sense of tension in the opening of the fourth movement, especially in the very quietly played pizzicato notes at m. 6, leading into an incredible build-up toward the fortissimo chord at m. 12.

I was disappointed at that great horn entry at Letter B. In my mind, I always have this picture of the heavens opening and the sun shining through after that dark opening. On Saturday and Sunday, the sense of awe and majesty was missing here.

In the famous C major theme at m. 61, Tausk found a happy medium with Brahms’s tempo indication of Allegro non troppo, ma con brio. At the great A major fanfare at m. 407, I blamed the inadequate acoustics of the Orpheum Theatre, for there should have been far more sound from the orchestra in this crucial moment before the coda. I sat in two different parts of the hall for the Saturday and Sunday concerts, and my aural perception was the same on both days. I hope that one day the orchestra will have a hall worthy of their efforts. Tausk made a slight ritard right before the end of the movement, at m. 450, which I felt diminished the impact and impetus of the music.

I believe that Otto Tausk had already made a very good start with the orchestra, even before his official tenure as music director. Except in rare instances, it takes a long time for the relationship between conductor and orchestra to really gel. As Humphrey Bogart says at the end of Casablanca, I hope that this is “the beginning of a beautiful friendship”