CONCERT REVIEW: Beethoven opus packs a punch
By Bradley Bambarger
New Jersey Star-Ledger, August 6, 2005
NEW YORK -- When Beethoven's Coriolan Overture appeared in 1807, it must have seemed like the last word on musical violence. It's relatively rare when a contemporary performance recaptures some of the visceral impact this storm surge of a piece must have had back in the day.
Yet the Deutsche Kammerphilharmonie-Bremen, conducted by its music director, Paavo Järvi, delivered a Coriolan Thursday like a blow to the sternum. The chamber orchestra's dark, sinewy sonority was ideal for this tense work in C minor, the key of Beethoven's most dramatic music.
The combination of a lean, mean ensemble and an intimate space yielded the boldest of sounds, as the German orchestra filled Lincoln Center's Alice Tully Hall for an all-Beethoven program as part of the Mostly Mozart Festival. And Järvi -- eldest son of New Jersey Symphony Orchestra music director Neeme Järvi -- revealed a modernist edge as a Beethoven conductor, reminiscent of Nikolaus Harnoncourt.
The pile-driving chords and weight-of-the-world pauses that opened the Coriolan Overture proved immediately that Järvi was out to extract maximum force from the score, accenting Beethoven's dissonances and offbeat rhythms rather than smoothing them over. But even at Järvi's hurtling pace -- with a few musicians lifted up in their seats at critical points -- everything was beautifully played.
Throughout the night, Järvi's approach felt naturally musical, imbued with heat but also a taut brand of gravitas. This was a pleasant surprise; in January at Carnegie Hall, he had made an annoyingly mannered showing in a family specialty, Nordic music, with his other band, the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra.
It is Beethoven's lyrical side that comes out in his Violin Concerto. Soloist Viktoria Mullova, molded in the Russian virtuoso tradition, has turned away from her grand birthright in recent years to delve into the subtler, smaller-scaled world of period-performance practice. Her lighter tone and no-nonsense phrasing not only reflected this experience, but served as an ideal match for the fine Bremen group.
The media, especially in the U.K., have tended to dub the tall, sleek Mullova as an "ice princess." That seems unfair now. The violinist downplays her glamour (as much as she can) and doesn't allow herself the expressive leeway of a peer such as Anne-Sophie Mutter. But the fresh tone and metrical discipline of her Beethoven offered its own rewards, with even the cruelest passages concentrated and pure, like clear spring water. She played Ottavio Dantone's cadenzas -- which neatly fragmented key themes across double-stops and other challenges -- with gazelle-like vitality. And the warm audience response brought the warmest of smiles in return.
As with the Coriolan, Järvi and company's account of the Eroica Symphony placed a premium on intensity (boding well for their project to record all of Beethoven's symphonies). Tempos were feisty and the phrasing detailed -- the orchestra played music, not just notes. The opening Allegro had brio to spare, with nervous propulsion tempered by lovely wind solos. The Funeral March burned slowly until it convulsed with tragic weight. The Scherzo and finale were exhilarating, the rhythms spinning like a top.
If he were his own man during the main event, Järvi showed his genetic inheritance by indulging the packed house with two encores. There was a skipping take on a Brahms Hungarian Dance, as well as a version of Sibelius' Valse Triste that -- shorn of the foibles in his rendition with the Cincinnati Symphony -- was richly bittersweet.
New Jersey Star-Ledger, August 6, 2005
NEW YORK -- When Beethoven's Coriolan Overture appeared in 1807, it must have seemed like the last word on musical violence. It's relatively rare when a contemporary performance recaptures some of the visceral impact this storm surge of a piece must have had back in the day.
Yet the Deutsche Kammerphilharmonie-Bremen, conducted by its music director, Paavo Järvi, delivered a Coriolan Thursday like a blow to the sternum. The chamber orchestra's dark, sinewy sonority was ideal for this tense work in C minor, the key of Beethoven's most dramatic music.
The combination of a lean, mean ensemble and an intimate space yielded the boldest of sounds, as the German orchestra filled Lincoln Center's Alice Tully Hall for an all-Beethoven program as part of the Mostly Mozart Festival. And Järvi -- eldest son of New Jersey Symphony Orchestra music director Neeme Järvi -- revealed a modernist edge as a Beethoven conductor, reminiscent of Nikolaus Harnoncourt.
The pile-driving chords and weight-of-the-world pauses that opened the Coriolan Overture proved immediately that Järvi was out to extract maximum force from the score, accenting Beethoven's dissonances and offbeat rhythms rather than smoothing them over. But even at Järvi's hurtling pace -- with a few musicians lifted up in their seats at critical points -- everything was beautifully played.
Throughout the night, Järvi's approach felt naturally musical, imbued with heat but also a taut brand of gravitas. This was a pleasant surprise; in January at Carnegie Hall, he had made an annoyingly mannered showing in a family specialty, Nordic music, with his other band, the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra.
It is Beethoven's lyrical side that comes out in his Violin Concerto. Soloist Viktoria Mullova, molded in the Russian virtuoso tradition, has turned away from her grand birthright in recent years to delve into the subtler, smaller-scaled world of period-performance practice. Her lighter tone and no-nonsense phrasing not only reflected this experience, but served as an ideal match for the fine Bremen group.
The media, especially in the U.K., have tended to dub the tall, sleek Mullova as an "ice princess." That seems unfair now. The violinist downplays her glamour (as much as she can) and doesn't allow herself the expressive leeway of a peer such as Anne-Sophie Mutter. But the fresh tone and metrical discipline of her Beethoven offered its own rewards, with even the cruelest passages concentrated and pure, like clear spring water. She played Ottavio Dantone's cadenzas -- which neatly fragmented key themes across double-stops and other challenges -- with gazelle-like vitality. And the warm audience response brought the warmest of smiles in return.
As with the Coriolan, Järvi and company's account of the Eroica Symphony placed a premium on intensity (boding well for their project to record all of Beethoven's symphonies). Tempos were feisty and the phrasing detailed -- the orchestra played music, not just notes. The opening Allegro had brio to spare, with nervous propulsion tempered by lovely wind solos. The Funeral March burned slowly until it convulsed with tragic weight. The Scherzo and finale were exhilarating, the rhythms spinning like a top.
If he were his own man during the main event, Järvi showed his genetic inheritance by indulging the packed house with two encores. There was a skipping take on a Brahms Hungarian Dance, as well as a version of Sibelius' Valse Triste that -- shorn of the foibles in his rendition with the Cincinnati Symphony -- was richly bittersweet.
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