This was a Russian-heavy National Symphony Orchestra programme with two war-horses guaranteed to pull in the crowds: Rachmaninov’s Second Piano Concerto and Rimsky-Kosakov’s Scheherazade. With the virtuosic brilliance of pianist Kirill Gerstein and the charm of conductor Jaime Martín, it proved a winning formula.
The concert opened with the ominous sounds of Ian Wilson’s Man-o’-War; whether the title referred to the frigate or the nasty jellyfish it wasn’t quite clear. The brass and percussion were key to establishing a sense of vivid gloom and despondency from the off, while the erratic beat of the bass drum notched up the tension further. Even the crescendos were a source of menace here while the stratospheric strings screeched with horror. If it hasn’t already been done, this piece could usefully form a backdrop to some film of terror. The xylophone, the crack of the wooden block and the piercing piccolo all cleverly alternated to create this miasma of menace. The use of quarter-tone intervals made the first and second violins disturbingly out of tune to one another. It was all very evocative and it was with a sense of relief that the rasping growl of the contrabassoon died away.
There was never any doubting the virtuosic playing or passion of pianist Kirill Gerstein. There was so much to admire in his Rachmaninov, be it the finesse of dynamic control of the opening chords or the swirling arpeggios that followed it. Some of the staccato and repeated notes were executed with all the ferocity and efficiency of a machine gun. I longed though for him to luxuriate a little more in the gloriously romantic climaxes and not just hurry through them, as though speed was the principal criterion required. Nonetheless, there was something atavistically thrilling in watching the combination of surging power and virtuosic brilliance on display.
The NSO opening the second movement with much-needed calmness and Gerstein responded in kind with a touching dialogue with the flute. The middle section showed the pianist ruminating through different keys and in the outbursts, speed was not his primary concern.
Impish arpeggiated figures and glowing triplets made the third movement shine brilliantly while both orchestra and soloist oozed obvious romanticism in the contrasting second subject. Here, Gerstein found an inner stillness that spoke much more profoundly than the bluff first movement. The fugue was a little too quick and there was a brief moment where the tutti came apart as a result of excessive speed. But the final glorious moment was magnificently done, bringing this half to an electrifying close.
Before launching into Scheherazade, Martín gave a detailed explanation of Rimsky's work with illustrations from the orchestra. It was a useful help to some of the audience and, even to those in the know, it was an interesting insight into how the conductor imagines this symphonic suite. There was ferocious menace to the lugubrious bass notes of the trombone and tuba that depict the evil sultan. Leader Elaine Clark imbued Scheherazade’s melodies with an ethereal quality. The second movement featured some uneasy tremolandos, nervous plucking and a swashbuckling antiphonal exchange between cellos and violins. Martín coaxed the shy melody of The Young Prince and the Young Princess, while the clarinet played wonderfully flirtatious scales. In the final movement, Martín gave his all, bobbing round the platform turbo-charging the NSO before the beautiful calm coda.
