It was very much the
performance as expected from the St Petersburg Philharmonic under their veteran
chief conductor Yuri Temirkanov. But that is saying a very great deal: they are
one of the greatest orchestras in the world, and their sound is quite
inimitable.
This is what
orchestras used to sound like in the golden age. There are 65 strings, with the
extra cellos and basses (by proportion, and in comparison with what we usually consider
a large orchestra) lending marvellous depth of tone, and Temirkanov enhances
the effect (already considerable because of the committed way they play) by
tucking his brass away at the side of the platform.
Never look at the
brass – it only encourages them, Richard Strauss used to say. Well, he does
look at them, but they certainly know their place. The orchestra is dominated
by its strings and percussion. And (as we soon heard in the Adagio Of Spartacus
And Phrygia from Khachaturian’s ballet, Spartacus – aka the Onedin Line theme)
it’s an orchestra that breathes and sings its music. Temirkanov’s baton-less
beat is clear but wonderfully flexible, and they know how to follow it and
sound spontaneous while retaining unanimity.
The other Spartacus
excerpt – Dance of the Gaditranian Maidens and Victory of Spartacus – may not
be greatest music ever written, but it was richly coloured and glamorously
presented. Temirkanov was even almost seen to smile.
Then came Nicolai
Lugansky, one of Russia’s greatest virtuoso pianists (possibly the last of a
long tradition of hot-house brilliance schooled from infancy), in Rachmaninov’s
Rhapsody On A Theme Of Paganini. A reduced string body allowed the orchestra to
provide beautifully precise articulation in the lighter, faster passages … we never
could forget that theme was written for violin and by Paganini! The playing was
full of rhythmic life and there was some glorious expressive playing in the
real Russian manner – they even managed to make the lovely major-key variation
18 sound melancholic, just as with the Adagio from Spartacus.
Rimsky-Korsakov’s
Scheherazade is meant to be a showpiece for orchestra, with its vital solo role
for violin (expertly played by leader Lev Klychkov) and its lovely horn and
woodwind solos. Oddly, things began a little less precisely than before and
somewhat lifelessly: maybe trying too hard to make the piece sound ‘symphonic’
(though that’s a word they over-used in the 19th century to mean
anything where an early theme gets transformed or reprised as the work goes
on).
But once Temirkanov
put his spectacles on again in the second movement and gave his principals a
gleaming spotlight (the horn solos were faultless, and the principal oboe
followed the maestro’s every twitch) it took off properly. The third wove its
familiar Romantic spell, and the fourth ended with a striking sound-balance in
the final bars as Klychkov’s pianissimo high harmonic hovered over the gentle
growl of those rich cellos and basses.