Beethoven & Nielsen, done justice

Dispatch November 21, 2024

The New Criterion

Beethoven & Nielsen,

done justice

by Jay Nordlinger

On a concert of the New York Philharmonic.

The classic format of an orchestral concert is overture–concerto–symphony.

Last night at the New York Philharmonic, we had concerto–symphony.

The former piece was the Piano Concerto No. 3 in C minor, Op. 37, by

Beethoven. The soloist? Yefim Bronfman. The conductor? Paavo Järvi (son of

Neeme, the venerable Estonian conductor).

Bronfman is a frequent player of Beethoven concertos. He played all five of them

with the New York Philharmonic in the 2013–14 season. When it comes to the C-

minor concerto, I have a memory—from 2007. Bronfman gave a master class at

Mannes College. He taught two pieces that are very, very familiar: this C-minor

concerto and the same composer’s “Moonlight” Sonata. He had such interesting

things to say about them, it was as though I had never studied or heard them.

Imagine someone talking about the Mona Lisa and Starry Night—and you think,

“Gee. I have never really looked at those paintings.”

If I were to write a short review of last night’s performance, it would go like

this: Bronfman played like Bronfman; Järvi conducted like Järvi; therefore, we

got Beethoven. On the podium, Järvi was incisive. Accentuation and phrasing

were right. At the keyboard, Bronfman was both reasonable and musical. He

was both sturdy and lyrical. He paid close attention to rhythm, honoring what

Beethoven wrote and intended.

His opening passages—upward C-minor scales—were like an announcement.

“Here I am. Here it is.” In the cadenza, he was masterly: alternately brawny and

poetic (and not unpoetic in the brawn).

Beethoven’s middle movement, Largo, is in E major. Bronfman played the

opening like a hymn. The music had a religioso feeling. I was reminded of

Bronfman’s playing—and others’ playing—of the Adagio in Brahms’s D-minor

concerto. Also, the music was Schubertian, which is an odd thing to say, given

that Beethoven precedes Schubert.

Bronfman did some beautiful rippling under woodwinds. The woodwinds did

not play nearly as well as they are capable of playing. (Neither did the brass in

this movement.)

When the Largo ended, Bronfman launched right into the Rondo—attacca. This

was effective. Bronfman played jauntily and supplely. His passagework is

amazingly even. At one point, he muffed a note. He didn’t play a wrong note;

but a right note didn’t sound. He and Maestro Järvi concluded the concerto

with admirable, Beethovenian vigor.

The audience wanted an encore, and I thought, “Will it be his go-to Scarlatti?

Or will he play the ‘Revolutionary’ Étude” (which he has been using as an

encore recently)? It was neither. Bronfman played an actual Schubert song, or,

the middle movement of a Schubert sonata, which is song-like: the Andante

from the Sonata in A minor, D. 784. Bronfman was subdued, graceful, and deep.

Such a mysterious fellow, Schubert.

After intermission came Nielsen’s Symphony No. 5—the penultimate of his

symphonies. The New York Philharmonic has long experience with Carl

Nielsen. Bernstein championed him. So did Alan Gilbert. Gilbert conducted all

the symphonies with the Philharmonic, and other Nielsen works as well. I recall

a button, distributed to concertgoers. I think it said, “I [heart] Nielsen.”

Under Paavo Järvi, the Fifth began with an uneasy calmness. That is the

oxymoron that occurs to me. It is as though the music, and its composer, are

trying to maintain poise. All through the symphony, Järvi proved an excellent

technician with an excellent mind. The playing of the orchestra was precise and

clear, in addition to virtuosic. You could have written the score down from what

you heard—that’s how transparent the playing was.

Nielsen gives the percussion a lot to do here. The Philharmonic’s players were

alacritous. He also gives the woodwinds a lot to do. They shone. Clarinetist

Anthony McGill, in particular, put on a clinic. At the end of the first movement,

he was ghostly and moving. If you will bear with me: it was like the notes were

imagined, rather than played; dreamt, rather than real.

In the final pages of the symphony, a member of the cello section had a big smile

on his face. So did most of the audience, I bet. This was a first-class account of a

relative rarity that should be more like standard.

Is Paavo Neeme’s son? He is. But let me pose a second question: Is Neeme

Paavo’s father? He is. Paavo Järvi is one of the outstanding conductors in music

(and has been for years).

Jay Nordlinger is a Senior Editor at National Review. His podcast with The New

Criterion, titled “Music for a While,” can be found here.