The cult of Valery Gergiev returned to Dublin this week, concluding a short tour with the London Symphony Orchestra that also included Paris, Madrid and Barcelona.
Breaking from the current Mahler cycle at the Barbican Centre in London (read the two latest instalments here), Gergiev conducted another all-Russian programme, featuring Stravinsky's Petrushka and Tchaikovsky's Sixth Symphony 'Pathétique'. Although Gergiev has come in for criticism by frequently conducting Russian repertoire, he does it better than anyone else: if my only criticism of the all-Russian programme at last year's BBC Proms was that it was too long, then the concert presented at Dublin's National Concert Hall disappointed solely in its brevity.
From the opening flute flutterings of Petrushka in its original 1911 version, it was clear that the partnership between conductor and orchestra, now a little over a year old, has blossomed to produce an ensemble worthy of its title as 'one of the world's leading orchestras'. Although Gergiev conducting from a score seemed a little more subdued than on other occasions, it added a sense of distilled focus to the work. In comparison with the LSO's first performance of the work with Gergiev at the Barbican Hall last year, a marked improvement was obvious. An absolute intent radiated from the stage, an almost grotesque edge captured the Shrovetide merry-go-round, shows and theatre with palpable realism and maintained a dark undercurrent even throughout the famous Petrushka chord clashes of the second scene and the glorious folk tune of the Wet Nurses dance. As always Gareth Davies excelled on flute, supported by outstanding clarinet and bassoon solos.
For Tchaikovsky's romantic Sixth Symphony, 'Pathétique', after the interval, it was almost as if Gergiev retained some of the Petrushka fair-ground personas; he took to the stage without score or podium, sometimes moving about like the lumbering bear or with the grace of the beloved ballerina. Nevertheless, the performance was a revelation: I was fortunate enough to hear Gergiev's efforts with the same symphony only weeks ago with the Vienna Philharmonic in London, but the LSO easily surpassed it.
Although Tchaikovsky admitted that there was a programme in the Sixth Symphony, he never elaborated what it may be. This, together with the adagio finale of the symphony and the mysteries surrounding Tchaikovsky's death days after the symphony's premiere, has left the work open to much speculation and interpretation.
Nearly as inscrutable as the symphony was Gergiev, offering an almost introspective and yet intensively personal reading that was shared by the orchestra and audience. A combination of luscious strings full of latent foreboding, dusky clarinets and mournful brass ushered in the first movement of a wholly intoxicating performance. The Maestro's typically ambitious tempi were met ably by the LSO, woodwind again shining in the second movement – no limping waltz here! – complemented by effortlessly light and clear strings in the third movement. Marching through to the powerful climax of the third movement, Gergiev moved to the finale as if it were written attacca, to wonderful effect. Passionate sustained strings provided the throbbing heart of this Adagio lamentoso that was so emotionally charged as to be nearly unbearable, and left the audience in utter silence at the conclusion of the work, before a lengthy standing ovation. Unfortunately, there were no encores, the orchestra perhaps drained from such an impassioned performance, an unqualified example, rehearsal time allowing, of the burning intensity that can be generated by Gergiev. In short, mesmerising.