Above: NY Philharmonic principal cellist Carter Brey, with his colleague Eileen Moon
Thursday April 28th, 2016 – Performances of Robert Schumann’s cello concerto seem to be something of a rarity, so I was glad of an opportunity to hear it at The New York Philharmonic tonight. I always love to see the orchestra’s principal players stepping out for a soloist turn. Carter Brey’s playing was most enjoyable, as was watching him play; his colleagues swamped him with affectionate applause as he took his bows.
A new work by Franck Krawczyk opened the concert. I’m fairly open to new music; when new works are programmed, I am always hoping for two things: that the composer might go beyond good craftsmanship and somehow touch the soul, and that there would be something to remember in the music. I found both tonight in Mr. Krawczyk’s Après, having its world premiere in these performances.
Both my companion and I felt a sense of narrative in Après: she envisioned a scene in nature with large trees and roaming beasts while I imagined the final days of a war and its immediate aftermath. The program notes imply no story of any kind, but the composer does pay homage to Beethoven, Kurtag, and Dutilleux.
Après commences with a poignant, intense theme, the lower voices glowering. A big passage for strings, with the violins soaring upward and the violas then exuding calm follows; a single sustained note from the clarinet introduces somber winds, and things turn ominous. For a few seconds the music ambles restlessly, with percussive effects introduced quietly: chimes, cymbals, snare drum.
Suddenly, a clattering arises: all the musicians begin to drum on their stands or tap their instruments. The horns herald an odd dance. An unsettled feeling – almost of being trapped – develops and there’s a huge build-up which evaporates to a single note from the piano.
The crack of a whip sparks a march-like section, with loud chimes. The lower winds darken, only to give way to the work’s most fantastical passage: the mingling of solo harp and piano creates an eerie tranquility. So atmospheric! The winds re-enter, the violins lament, the harp and piano sound together again. Brass and percussion swell to a great loudness, the violas are plucked, and then, in a wisp, the harp gives us a mysterious ending.
The youthful-looking composer appeared for a bow; having heard Après – with that bewitching harp and piano motif – and having read of Mssr. Krawczyk’s musical roots (he was an accordionist), I’ll be finding more of his music to explore in the less hectic days of Summer. Of the new works presented in recent months by the Philharmonic, I rate Après very highly indeed.
Mr. Brey then appeared for the Schumann concerto. Both the work and his playing of it were thoroughly pleasing, as was the feeling he conveyed of truly enjoying the music and of listening to his colleagues attentively in those moments when the soloist is silent.
Three movements are listed for this concerto, but they are played without pauses in between so that it becomes an arc, a sort of cello tone-poem. It opens with a heartfelt, rather sad theme. Even when things become more animated, there is a sense of longing. Mr. Brey’s playing is subtle and refined in the more sustained passages: there’s a constant stream of melody for the cello over commenting strings. Rising scales recur, and the French horn has some lovely moments.
There’s an ironic waltz, with the pensive cello playing deep and lulling as the violins and violas are gently plucked. A tender cello theme leads to what ‘should be’ a cadenza, but the orchestra continues to play a part.
Suddenly a dance erupts, and Mr. Brey’s animated fiorature cover a wide range at high speed. The virtuosity continues, with the orchestra stately or turbulent by turns, to the end; the audience couldn’t restrain their applause, breaking in before the final note had faded away. The tall cellist was warmly hailed, embraced by the conductor, and lionized by his colleagues.
The program concluded with the Brahms 2nd symphony; it was (needless to say) gorgeously played, and Alan Gilbert’s vision of it is most congenial. I very much enjoyed watching the Maestro’s podium choreography tonight.
In a letter on his second symphony, written around the time of its premiere, Brahms apparently referred to the state of melancholy as a signature of this work. There is, to be sure, a tinge of sad regret that runs thru the music, but also passages of hope, romance, affirmation. Overall, it is a warmly wonderful infusion for the spirit.
The Brahms Second is rather front-loaded; the first two movements together last about 30 minutes while the final two together take less that half that time. The third and fourth movements – for all their appeal and zest – seem somewhat light-weight after the riches of the first two. Of course, everyone is listening for the famous “lullaby” – which my grandmother actually sang to us when we were small: “Go to sleep, go to sleep, it is night-time for baby.” I also remember Christa Ludwig singing the ‘Brahms Lullaby’ as an encore at a recital she gave in this very hall many moons ago. The theme recurs in various guises throughout the opening movement of the 2nd symphony.
Horns and winds welcome us, and a unison violin theme develops grandly and spreads thru the orchestra; the playing is resplendent. A horn solo lingers in the memory. The cellos play a lovely theme at the start of the second movement; horns and winds again mingle voices and the adagio moves opulently forward. Winds play over plucked celli, dancing thru the third movement towards a presto finish, and in the fourth movement a gentle start soon goes grand…and oddly Russian. The broad flow of melodies is simply delightful to bask in as the symphony sails to a spirited finale. Maestro Gilbert and his players were at their very finest here (all evening, actually) and the applause was still echoing as I walked up the aisle.
Tonight’s concert honored The Philharmonic’s retirees – four who are currently playing their final season, and several former members who were in the audience tonight and who stood for a bow. Retiring violist Irene Breslaw and violinist Carol Webb each made heartfelt speeches, recalling the high points of their years with the orchestra and speaking fondly of their colleagues. Their words were very moving.
Flautist Sandra Church and violinist Newton Mansfield (a 55-year Philharmonic veteran!) are also in their final season; and violist Katherine Greene was honored tonight as she is celebrating her 25th anniversary with the orchestra.
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