The London Philharmonic Orchestra’s new Composer-in-Residence is Tania León. Securing the long-established, recent Pulitzer prize-winning Cuban-American composer was quite a coup and the orchestra has commissioned a new work from her, of which it will give the world premiere next March. Here, we heard the UK premiere of Horizons, a short piece for large orchestra from 1999.
Léon writes of Horizons as “a stream that widens and narrows unpredictably, following a winding course”. Static at first, a pedal adorned by fluttering flutes, before harp glissandi, piano chords and then the insistent drumming of the timpanist and two percussionists, began to propel the piece along its course. They suddenly ceased, and an oasis of calm with long notes in the violins and violas ensued, followed by a cantilena for cello, before the drumming could be silenced no longer. Structured as much by textures as by themes, it said much in ten minutes. The composer was present and clearly appreciated the dedicated playing of the LPO under Principal Guest Conductor Karina Canellakis.
Ravel’s late Piano Concerto in D major for the Left Hand was written for pianist Paul Wittgenstein, who lost his right arm in the First World War. An initially troubled work – Ravel disliked Wittgenstein’s cavalier treatment of the score almost as much as Alfred Cortot’s presumption in arranging it for two hands – was given a serenely untroubled performance. Cédric Tiberghien relished Ravel’s skill in making a pianistic virtue out of necessity, with its expressive use of the thumb, the spacing of its sarabande rhythm allowing the pianist time to accompany himself, its combination of lyrical and jazz elements. The lyrical moments were exquisitely poetic in Tiberghien’s solos, the jazz second nature to Canellakis the New Yorker – Principal Bassoon Jonathan Davies almost sang the blues at one point. The composer perversely gives the single hand a very large orchestra to combat, but only twice did brief forte passages drown the piano. Tiberghien’s encore, Debussy’s Feux d’artifice, had plenty of fireworks and, in both hands, its hint of the Marseillaise as the revellers drift away was deftly etched in.
The programme was framed by Strauss tone poems. Don Juan was quick out of the blocks, its rushing strings ushering in our hero, eager to locate the next girl. Principal Oboe Ian Hardwick’s lovely long solo was extended with some sensitivity by clarinet and bassoon. The four horns were splendidly brazen in their great fanfare, and in this very dashing account an occasional rough moment was unimportant. The composer, guest conducting an orchestra over-assiduously prepared for his visit, stopped the rehearsal saying “There’s something wrong... I know, you are playing all the notes, and I want the impression of the notes.”
While Strauss conducted the 1889 premiere of Don Juan his next tone poem Tod und Verklärung (Death and Transfiguration) was sitting virtually complete on his desk. They almost form a contrasted pair, since the expiry of Don Juan leads him to hell, and the protagonist of Death and Transfiguration departs in a heavenly blaze of glory. On this evidence, Canellakis is a commanding Straussian, pacing fast and slow sections so that each is as driven or as songful as it needs to be, but the transitions linking them seem natural. She obtained alert responses from the LPO, and her rubato leading into the final Verklärung was subtle and effective – transfiguring indeed. Strauss, in his final days, said “Dying is just as I composed it in Death and Transfiguration”. No-one dared ask if living had been just as he composed it in Don Juan!
