One of the season’s more anticipated Pittsburgh Symphony debuts came last weekend, when conductor Karina Canellakis took the podium for the first time with the orchestra. Her program covered considerable ground, spanning works from the late 18th-century to the first years of the 21st.
The evening began in less-familiar repertoire with the 2003 work The Kingdom of Silence by Russian-Swedish composer Victoria Borisova-Ollas. At about 15 minutes, it was an unusually substantial opener, conjuring a rarefied sound world. A recurring glockenspiel motif served as a repeated motto, later echoed by the celesta and Thai gongs, while thin strands of strings lent the music a dreamy character and delicate shimmer. More discordant material unraveled into cacophony, held together by Canellakis’ incisive baton, only for the quietude of the opening to return before its fade to silence.
At the other side of the program was Rachmaninov’s Symphonic Dances which inspired the evening’s most compelling playing. Fragments of melody gathered weight in the first dance, propelled by clangorous, brassy energy. The remarkably colorful orchestration was highlighted by a lyrical solo for alto saxophone (uncredited in the program) along with substantial material for piano. In the second of the three pieces, Canellakis outlined the pulse of the waltz, but with a rhythmic flux that kept Rachmaninov’s version from settling into a conventional ballroom sway. Commanding orchestral power in the final piece, it was a study in concentrated drama, from the chilling Dies irae to the cascading spectacle which closed in grandeur.
While Russian roots and vivid orchestration may have been a connective tissue between the works that bookended the program, Beethoven’s Piano Concerto no. 2 in B flat major stood on its own. For this work, Canellakis conducted without a baton, guiding the PSO’s light, airy playing and crisp articulations through the pearly classicism of early Beethoven. The brass, however, would have benefited from better blending with the strings; at times, it felt a bit like oil and water.
As soloist, Inon Barnatan offered a transparent clarity of tone, scaling across the keyboard with ease and limber flexibility. But his interpretation seemed to emphasize its classical inheritance at the expense of the more distinctive Beethovenian character that was beginning to emerge. I wondered if there was untapped potential to explore that, although Beethoven’s individual stamp was certainly apparent in the expressive cadenza. As an encore, Barnatan selected Bach’s Sheep may safely graze in a transcription by Egon Petri. A lovely meditation, and a thoughtful contrast to the jocular finale of the concerto.
