As has become common, this concert had a title: “An Heroic Journey”. Not that Beethoven’s Eroica was on the programme, or, if we were to take the noun as seriously as the adjective, Vaughan Williams’ Sinfonia antartica. But doubtless the programme is devised first, and the marketing folk come up with the title afterwards, or at least one hopes it is that way round. Instead we had two works which could well be called heroic, but in different ways; Brahms’ First Piano Concerto and Richard Strauss’ Ein Heldenleben – “A Hero’s Life”.
Certainly this wonderful concerto begins in a mood of heroic struggle, with a violent eruption from the timpani, and a strident and angular opening theme. The balm of the second subject here only briefly interrupted this growling turbulence. It seems this introduction is tricky to bring off in performance, and Brahms used to get the blame, back in the days when he was accused of weak orchestration. True for this Romantic storminess he deploys a very classical orchestra, with pairs of woodwinds and trumpets (and, this being Brahms, four horns). If the RPO did not execute it with perfect tidiness, that was of small account compared to their capture of the brooding, unsettled atmosphere, responding to the violent slashes of Vasily Petrenko’s baton with plenty of attack. Better some risk in the approach than a caution that neuters the work’s power. The orchestral playing soon settled into its compelling narrative and Denis Kozhukhin’s playing was exceptionally fine throughout. He has power and technique to spare – some of the trills that litter this movement were as rattling thunder – but there was much delicacy and poetry on offer in the many lyrical episodes.
The composition of this concerto was an heroic journey in itself, taking four years and with earlier incarnations as a work for two pianos and then a symphony, before morphing into a piano concerto, all during the period when Brahms’ friend and mentor (and hero) Robert Schumann attempted suicide and endured his inexpressibly sad decline in the asylum at Endenich. Surely much of that gets into the moving Adagio. Brahms wrote over his sketch of the opening the words Benedictus qui venit in nomine Dominus. (Dominus, in the sense of ‘Master’, was a term those in his circle used to address Schumann).
This account was close to perfect in tempo and feeling, from both piano and orchestra. The classical restraint of Kozhukhin’s metrical precision actually added to the touching pathos. Without pause Kozhukhin launched into the final Rondo, each episode of which was splendidly characterised. The fugal passage was especially ear-catching from the strings, in its quietly creeping Tom 'n Jerry manner, before the pianist demonstrated just how piquant his decorated version was. The coda let loose its tight succession of exchanges between soloist and band, and this formidable work completed its heroic journey. The tiny encore of Grieg’s Arietta, which Kozhukhin announced to an alarming squeal from (I assume) one of that composer’s compatriots, was as evanescent and inconsequential as the concerto had sounded mighty and enduring.