What’s the difference between a Largo and a Larghetto? In this instance one describes the heart and soul of a symphony, “a Soviet artist’s creative response to justified criticism”, whereas the other is the title of a work commissioned in 2017 by the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra to celebrate Manfred Honeck’s ten years as Music Director. Though Honeck was again in charge, this time it was the European Union Youth Orchestra giving voice to James MacMillan’s Larghetto.
Though the personnel might radically change (it’s two years on since I last heard the EUYO in this venue), the commitment of these players is never in doubt: youth orchestras bring a special freshness and eagerness to whatever they play. MacMillan’s work resonates with a spiritual eloquence, echoes of ancient plainchant and contemplative liturgical chorales coupled with the eerie desolation reminiscent of Sibelius’ Fourth Symphony, here enhanced through the spatial effects of solo brass players positioned in the higher reaches of this hall. There was a warm embrace from the strings at its close, the brass splendidly radiant.
A tangy cocktail glass mixed with sweet and sour is what Prokofiev’s Piano Concerto no. 3 in C major is all about. There is so much motoric energy in the first movement alone it’s hardly surprising that early audiences were discombobulated. Benjamin Grosvenor unleashed an amazing powerhouse of potential in his fingers: they stabbed the keys ferociously, relishing the opportunities for virtuosic display, a case of muscle and might. The central slow movement brought about a welcome mood change: here Grosvenor made much of the haunting opening tune and the following five variations in E minor, caressing the keyboard mesmerisingly during the fourth Andantino meditativo. In the Finale the soloist’s big sound, matched by a very full orchestral complement grounded on ten double-basses, left just enough space for the composer’s sardonic touches to emerge. Impressive though this all was, the charm factor was found a little wanting. However, in Grosvenor’s encore, Ravel’s sparkling Jeux d’eau, the magic was on full display: captivating cascades of notes, a downward splash across the full keyboard, and a beautifully crystalline touch conjuring forth myriads of pianistic colour.
Do you need to feel the pain in the Largo of Shostakovich’s Fifth Symphony? I think you do. Honeck was very effective at characterising the elements of brutalism in the first movement, his massive strings attacking the jagged rhythms with gusto, the icy edge to the woodwind emphasising the chill factor. At its central climax Honeck speeded up noticeably. With the orchestra in full cry the music now became a howling rage of the downtrodden masses. The start of the Finale saw the bows flying off the strings at high speed (two players had to repair back-stage during the performance with broken strings). Together with the venom-spitting brass this created dizzying whirlwinds of sound.
Nevertheless, if you already approach the coda with the pounding rhythms and full force tearing the guts out of you, there is not much left for the repeated As of the final bars. You can play them in celebratory fashion (as the Soviets wanted) or, as here, in sheer defiance but the powder must be kept dry up to this point. Honeck’s tendency throughout this performance was to stretch the dynamics to extremes. If you create too many passages of ultra-hushed string playing in the first two movements, accompanied by a drop in forward momentum, you have already played all your trump cards by the time you reach the Largo. This exceptionally moving testament to deep personal and collective anguish must sear the soul. Here, it simply didn’t.
