Concluding their three-concert series at Carnegie Hall, Gustavo Dudamel and the Vienna Philharmonic played a program of Charles Ives’ Second Symphony and Tchaikovsky’s Fourth Symphony at Carnegie Hall this Sunday afternoon which met with very different fortunes.
Ives’ Second Symphony, completed in 1902 but not performed until 1951, consists of five movements amalgamating an impressive range of musical styles and influences. From Brucknerian tremolandi and Wagnerian harmony to outright quotations of passages from Bach, Beethoven and Brahms, the symphony is as much an eclectic potpourri as an American classic.
Conducting without a score, Dudamel energetically led the orchestra as it traversed through centuries of music history. The Vienna Philharmonic’s lush sound was well-suited to this symphony, and the strings especially shone throughout the first movement, where the oboe solo was equally laudable.
The Allegro featured several memorable moments, from a lilting flute duo to a deliberately bathetic percussion crescendo. Dotted rhythms abound in the score, and Dudamel’s sharp conducting ensured a crisp rhythmic uniformity across the orchestra. Of special note was the startling effect produced by the two upper trombones playing two accented fortississimo notes amidst the orchestras piano backdrop in the last measure.
The Adagio cantabile featured a flute-cello duo and a quotation from Tristan und Isolde, both of which were executed very well. The fourth movement continued in this lush and harmonically rich style, going attacca into the rapid finale. As the counterpoint became increasingly complicated and instruments began to split up into multiple divisi groups, some of the musical lines were overshadowed by others, but these stretches of contrapuntal complexity were counterbalanced effectively with more chamber-like moments. The coda was as “pungently” ironic as the program note promised, escalating to an exhilarating climax but ending unexpectedly on a grating eleven-note dissonance instead.
A beloved concert staple, Tchaikovsky's “Fate” Symphony is at once programmatic and not; as the composer wrote to his former student Sergei Taneyev, “Of course my symphony is programmatic, but this program is such that it cannot be formulated in words.” But what remains germane to an understanding of the music is the fate motif that introduces the symphony and interjects itself back into the symphony at several junctures, most notably as a rude interruption in the final movement.