A coincidence no doubt, the visit of the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra to the Royal Festival and the London Philharmonic Orchestra's concert the next evening gave us a snapshot of quite how varied the motivations behind musical endeavour at the end of the Nineteeth Century could be.
Anton Bruckner was at the early stages of trying to work out a finale for his Ninth Symphony when he died in October 1896. Just a couple of months previously, Strauss had put the finishing touches to his Also sprach Zarathustra, a tone poem 'frei nach Nietzsche'. The symphony is the product of a composer of unfailing religious belief, its score dedicated 'Dem lieben Gott' yet, in its incomplete, three movement state it leaves the listener with a disturbing feeling of insecurity. Strauss's work, although ostensibly ending in philosophical uncertainty, often comes across as just as swaggeringly sure of itself as any of his other works.
Zubin Mehta led a performance of the Bruckner – the same work, with the same orchestra, with which he made his recording debut over forty years ago – that he movingly dedicated to the memory of Christopher Raeburn, the Decca producer who had resided over so many of both the conductor's and orchestra's recordings for the label. Whether or not the sad news of Raeburn's death the previous evening gave this reading an extra emotional power or not is difficult to say. In the vast opening movement, however, the massed ranks of the Vienna Philharmonic played as if their lives depended on it, with Mehta making no attempt to cover the music's darkness, spilling over several times into anger.
All this was allied to playing which showed the Vienna Philharmonic at their very best. Again there was an embarrassingly paltry female contingent among the orchestra's ranks, but the richness of the string sound – not only powerful but constantly inflected – and the warmth of the brass – particularly the cushion provided by the horns on their first entry – are quite unlike any other band. The lyrical second subject swelled irresistibly but provided only brief consolation from the darkness elsewhere. Although there were times when Mehta could have pared the sound down, particularly at the start of Bruckner's grand build-ups, the visceral thrill of the finale bars was simply overwhelming.
The Scherzo was rather less successful and, one suspects, a little under-rehearsed. Yet the occasional loss of synchronisation in the Trio section was not especially worrying and, by and large, Mehta was successful in conjuring up that same, elemental power that defined the opening movement; he even slowed slightly at the tutti statements of the Scherzo's pounding rhythms to give greater weight. There can be few violin sections one would rather hear launch Bruckner's final Adagio and the effect as the brass joined in for the first fermata was glorious. If Mehta's desire to wring every last drop of emotion led to an occasional loss of structural overview, this was still a deeply affecting reading, stunningly well played.
I'm sure Raeburn would have appreciated this more than the performance of Haydn's 'London' Symphony we heard in the first half. The same expressive vocabulary was employed to give a glossy performance, some of it sounding unrehearsed, that seemed to reflect little of the work's essence; a spirited performance of the Finale did little to dispel the feeling that we and the players were simply being warmed up for the second half.
Jurowski's concert, on the other hand, was weighted toward a long first half that coupled Rachmaninoff's Isle of the Dead with Mozart's A Major Piano Concerto No.23. Rachmaninoff's symphonic poem is exactly the kind of score in which Jurowski excels, and he marshalled his forces with skill and to powerful effect.
Leon Fleisher was soloist in the Mozart in a moving but occasionally uncomfortable performance. Fleisher – who can trace the musical genealogy of his teachers from Schnabel back to Czerny and Beethoven – only recently recovered the use of his right hand, after a neurological condition had confined him to the left-hand repertory for several decades.
While it was clear from this performance that sadly Fleisher's right hand is still considerably weaker than his right – some passage work was messy and he took every possible opportunity to employ the left in its place – the modesty and integrity of his musicianship brought ample compensation. It was difficult not to let technical problems slightly affect one's enjoyment of the opening Allegro yet the Adagio was deeply moving and Fleisher rallied to produce an ebullient account of the Finale.
Strauss would probably have balked at programming Also Sprach Zarathustra after one of the greatest works of his favourite composer and Jurowski's reading did little to hide the score's occasional brashness. The opening sunrise can hardly fail, and didn't here, blasted out with assuring conviction by the LPO brass. 'Von den Hinterweltlern' was carefully built up and the pedantic fugue of the 'Grablied' was suitably straight-faced and free from emotion. Elsewhere, however, Jurowski seemed too happy simply to push the orchestra hard and didn't quite have the measure of the 'Tanzlied'. The LPO displayed considerable virtuosity – with guest leader Carmine Lauri largely excellent in his solos – but it was a performance that only emphasised the work's antimetaphysical core. With help from the Viennese, Bruckner's piety had one this battle.
By Hugo Shirley
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