One of the most lovely features of the Wu Tsai Theater in the newly renovated David Geffen Hall is the clarity of texture. It is possible to hear layers of music interacting in a way that often got swallowed in the old Avery Fisher Hall. However, last night it became clear that the hall does not magically do this by itself. Conductor Semyon Bychkov led the New York Philharmonic in a rendition of Richard Strauss’ early tone poem Don Juan in which foreground obliterated background, squashing Strauss’ overstuffed orchestration into two dimensions. The pleasures of this kind of approach were certainly evident; the plentiful string turns soared, and the brass at their loudest sounded rich and sweet while flattening us back in our seats. The galloping momentum of the main theme, though, would have been even more exciting had we been able to hear the woodwind triplets behind it.
Things got markedly better after that. Bryce Dessner’s 2017 Concerto for two pianos, composed for – and performed here in its New York premiere by – the legendary duo Katia and Marielle Labèque, is a terrific piece of music, engaging and appealing. At the beginning, a simple four-note motif gives the listener a handhold, while layers of complexity and fascinating detail arise from and around it. The musical language is eclectic, but coherent. There’s a huge debt to mid-career Steve Reich, and I heard moments that recalled George Crumb (a dissonant filigree over a quiet chorale) and Dave Brubeck (an extended section in the same irregular meter as Blue Rondo à la Turk). An extended riff from the snare drum evoked Dessner’s parallel life in pop music, as a member of the indie-rock band The National.
It’s often more like a concerto for orchestra – if an orchestra had a piano section – than simply a showcase for its soloists. Bychkov’s deft, meticulous handling of the score stood in marked contrast to what we’d heard previously. Dessner gave the Labèques challenges ranging from ghostly half-pedaled memories to repetitive grooves and violently physical chordal attacks, all of which they delivered compellingly, anchoring the piece but not dominating it.
Rachmaninov’s Symphonic Dances also fared well in Bychkov’s hands, with bombast replaced by balance and a much more three-dimensional texture than in the Strauss. The portions of the piece that actually do reference dance rhythms had an earthy physicality or, in the case of the second movement’s waltz, a sinuous vitality. The strange but wonderful woodwinds-only passage in the first movement, featuring an alto saxophone, was indelibly lovely; the re-entrance of the strings, harp and piano afterwards sounded like angels sighing. The third movement is discursive until the final Allegro vivace, changing tempos and intentions frequently, like late Beethoven. I did not find Bychkov’s route through that thicket completely convincing, but the finale, with its Dies irae quotes and the return of dance rhythms, was entirely satisfying.
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