In these straightened times, it is easy to forget the sheer noise a full strength symphony orchestra can make. The BBC Philharmonic Orchestra, under former Associate Artist Ludovic Morlot, made haste to remind us this in his programme of orchestral fireworks at the Glasshouse. Morlot was an assured, charming presence on the podium although I was never sure if he and the orchestra were engaged in more than polite dialogue; there was communication and respect, most entries were clearly signalled and responded to, but the overall effect had a slight chill about it, as though it had perhaps spent too long in the fridge before serving.
Part of the problem was the cumbersome programming. Maurice Ravel was incapable of writing a vulgar note even when, as in La Valse, he was trying to, and a whole evening of his admittedly lush and beautiful orchestrations was too much to digest, like a wonderful meal composed entirely of desserts. I notice that these forces were giving a similar programme – Piano Concerto, Pictures and Mother Goose – in Manchester, but with the vital addition of Boulez’ exciting, challenging Notations I-IV which would at the very least have provided material for the intellect as well as the senses.
The idea that La Valse was an apotheosis of the form or a reflection of the decline and decay of early 20th-century society has been largely debunked by Ravel’s own assertion that there was nothing in it but the notes: “One should only see in it what the music expresses”. It felt at times as though Morlot was letting the music speak for itself in just such a way, although the problem with this approach is that without any choreography, it can seem directionless. We can hear that a point is being reached, but it remains just out of focus – a necessary effect in this piece, but one perhaps overdone here.
The Valses Nobles et Sentimentales were exquisitely played and featured an outstanding contribution from principal flute and from the entire double bass section, who demonstrated at the close a most perfectly judged al niente. Bertrand Chamayou gave a powerful, shimmering, electrifying account of the Piano Concerto in D major (using, of course, only his left hand), never more so than in the deeply felt cadenza just before the conclusion. The heavily augmented percussion section contributed with responding vigour and exquisite judgement here, as they did consistently throughout the evening.
Mussorgsky’s great experimental war horse Pictures at an Exhibition was written just before the composer’s final descent into alcoholism and death, orchestrated from the solo piano original by Ravel. Familiarity with this version sometimes inures us to the revolutionary, innovative spark of the original and tonight’s account went some of the way towards redressing that imbalance. Two caveats however: there were too many instances of poor ensemble in the upper woodwinds, and I question whether it was really necessary to take so long in between movements, particularly in a work that depends for its impact as much on its momentum as on its content – the recurring theme is, after all, entitled “Promenade”!
