On Thursday night, musicians from the New York Philharmonic did something they wouldn’t normally do after finishing Shostakovich’s Violin Concerto No. They applauded the soloists.
In the case of the violinist of the Order of Leonidas Kavakos, the response felt justified. he is strange Music flowed out of him like a river. It was big, shimmery, and unobstructed, but it was also tasteful in its frictionless subtleties.
Shostakovich completed the concerto in 1948 at Stalin’s request, under the watchful eye of the Soviet authorities, but perhaps fearing retaliation for failing to glorify the state and its people, Stalin’s 1953 Shelved his work until after his death. series of movements. It opens with a character piece, a dark-hued nocturne that lives upside down in Chopin’s genre-defining piece for piano, and culminates in a baroque-derived passacaglia. Minute Cadenza for soloists.
Kavakos played Shostakovich’s astonishingly original score from memory, clearing danger after danger. He didn’t just spin his lines legato in exploratory, conversational nocturnes. He explained Legato’s entire paragraph in an eloquent, unbroken stream of consciousness. While shredding the scherzo, his tone was subdued and even sumptuous. Some violinists convey a sense of anguish in harsh passages – playing two melodies in a duet or playing a double-stop endless seesaw – he sounded effortless. Even his harmonics were juicy. was playing a sound.
An orchestra led by Gianandrea Noseda faded into the background. Players failed to envelop Kavakos in the shimmering, uneasy darkness of Nocturne. was. Noseda appropriately ramps up the intensity of Passacaglia in its vengeful 17-bar pattern. A shy respect reigned as the energy waned.
Without the orchestra playing, Kavakos felt nervous about his playing. In the cadenza he may have been a caged animal, rediscovering his own majesty.
It was hard to imagine anything following Kavakos’ performance, and perhaps someone in the Philharmonic felt the same way. An announcement was made that number 1 would be pushed after the break.
During the intermission, I wondered if the clean, bright acoustics of the Philharmonic Orchestra’s new hall were partly responsible for the orchestra’s performance at Shostakovich. Each instrumental section sounded crisp, soloistic and unblended.
The Walker dispels such doubts by imagining different tones. Orchestras have unanimously found a way to vocalize from pointed brass to curling woodwinds.
The final work, Respighi’s Roman Festival, gave the Philharmonic Orchestra the opportunity to show how far they had come in tailoring their sound to the enhanced acoustics of the new auditorium. Respighi, composer of Sunny Explosives, with Pines of Rome, his second work in the Roman Trilogy, inspired the ensemble’s first subscription program of the season in October. provided a perfect finale. At the time, the colors were lively and acoustic and really bounced off the walls. The perhaps overdone climax took on an ambiguous nature.
On Thursday, the orchestra showcased the clarity of fortissimo passages, percussion, brass and strings in handsome tiers. Corrosive brass and heated strings enliven Respighi’s first movement, while gray woodwinds, transparent violins, and sumptuous cellos and basses enliven the second movement.
Something of a redo of Shostakovich’s burlesque, “Roman Festivals” concludes with an antique, circus-like crowd portrait of Rome’s Piazza Navona. The Philharmonic players came to life in orchestrated chaos. It was the sound of revelers falling into a common rhythm, and orchestras relearning how to play themselves.
new york philharmonic
The program repeats through Saturday at David Geffen Hall in Manhattan. nyphil.org.
