British orchestras have a reputation for being exceptionally effective with their rehearsal time and therefore needing much less of it than their continental counterparts. That can be a mixed blessing, with the upsides and downsides clearly visible in two very different halves of the Philharmonia’s concert last night at the Royal Festival Hall – a concert challenged by an enforced late change of conductor, with Thomas Dausgaard replacing the Covid-stricken Esa-Pekka Salonen.
For many in the audience, the main draw will have been seeing Dame Mitsuko Uchida playing Beethoven’s Piano Concerto no. 2 in B flat major. Perhaps unsurprisingly, in view of Uchida being one of the world’s great Mozart specialists, her performance came down firmly on the Classical side of the age old question of “is Beethoven’s music Classical of Romantic” (in spite of its number, this is the first piano concerto Beethoven wrote and the closest in time to Mozart). Uchida gave us a peerless quality of articulation, each individual note clear as a bell even in the densest runs, with phrases shaped into elegant arabesques over a rock solid rhythmic base. She also radiated impish pleasure at simply being in this hall and playing this music, even miming chords in time with the orchestra at the beginning (the actual piano entry doesn’t come until many bars later).
Dausgaard’s conducting style was uncomplicated, using small hand movements rather than grand gestures. Conducting without a score, he was able to take plenty of care taken to make eye contact with all parts of the orchestra. The Philharmonia were clearly comfortable with this music, exceptionally accurate in their timing in a way that complemented Uchida’s style and also served them well in the opening piece, Beethoven’s Leonore Overture no. 2 with its extreme dynamics. Oddly, you could hear it most clearly in the tacets, the close of a big tutti chord being so perfectly together that you heard a beautiful blended sound fading into silence.
The second part of the concert, Sibelius’ Lemminkäinen Suite, provided an unwelcome contrast, with larger orchestral forces in which many of the musicians looked unfamiliar with their music. Although some were confident and engaged (a particular mention for the Principal Second Violin, Annabelle Meare), many heads were buried in scores.
The Philharmonia’s brass certainly made a gorgeous, rounded sound and the strings maintained their accuracy. But all too often, woodwinds and percussion entries did not display confidence and precision in their timing, which meant that many of Sibelius’ wonderful effects – a sound hitting you like a hammer blow, or a fortissimo chord suddenly giving way to a string ostinato that grows out of nothingness – failed to come across in their full glory. I hoped to be fully transported to the Kalevala’s world of potent sorcerers, ghostly lake, reckless hero and fair but deceitful maidens, but that hope only materialised fitfully.
