Tagesspiegel
October 7, 2024
Tagesspiegel
Christiane Peitz
No, not everything was better in the past. Nevertheless, in these days of crisis, one sometimes wished for a state of carefreeness, such as the young Shostakovich may have experienced. He was 27 when he sat at the grand piano for the premiere of his concerto for piano, trumpet and string orchestra in 1933. Stalin's regime had not yet set its sights on him.
The composer's high spirits, who immediately turn satirically after an "Appassionata" quote and mix up further quotes, are matched by Seong-Jin Cho's daring. The young Korean, artist in residence with the Berlin Philharmonic, combines unbridled virtuosity with great precision in the changes in tempo and mood. The pianist is full of mischief when he sometimes goes overboard like a clown, sometimes ecstatically, declaring the grand piano to be a percussion instrument, only to wallow in melancholy in the second movement to a Mahlerian Adagietto trance.
Guillaume Jehl, solo trumpeter of the Philharmonic, joins him with dry humor, while regular guest Paavo Järvi on the podium encourages the musicians to gallop at high speed, conjures up plays of timbre and twilight endings. An exuberant collage that one would like to hear more often in the concert hall.
The opening Overture No. 2 (1959) by Järvi's Estonian compatriot Veljo Tormis turns out to be a wild ride: at times the entire orchestra mutates into a percussion section. A burst of energy that is still noticeable in Bruckner's 1st Symphony in C minor (in the early version from 1866). Bruckner's sound column architecture still seems like a cheerful, almost innocent game with building blocks, the melodies still flow out, and Järvi draws wide, organic arches. The composer is said to have called his first a "cheeky little Beserl". In the final movement, however, the relentless Bruckner gradually asserts himself, with stormy bursts of sound and brass trumpets. They announce the end of innocence.
Comments