Their beginnings are indeterminate, inchoate; only slivers of sound percolate through the silence. Two instruments, playing softly and unrecognizably at the extreme ends of their ranges, begin two of the pieces and the violins alone the third. Other instruments join in echoing or adding color and variety, creating a kaleidoscope of textures, pitches, and timbres all of which ultimately coalesce as the pieces finally take shape. Back from their seven-week holiday hiatus, the Boston Symphony Orchestra began with a bang, blazing through works sharing these characteristics by Tania León, Ravel and Stravinsky in a way which bodes well for a challenging second half of the season. This program also marked the appearance of the first of a series of guest concertmasters and possible candidates for the chair, vacant since September, 2019: Bracha Malkin, a BSO second violin.
Stride was commissioned by the New York Philharmonic, one of a series of works commemorating the ratification of the Nineteenth Amendment giving women the vote. The title was inspired by Susan B Anthony who campaigned for equal rights and women’s suffrage for over 40 years. Anthony and her fellow activists “made strides” thanks to their dogged tenacity. The pace might have been slow, but it was unremitting.
León uses pizzicato double basses along with sandblocks to set a slow pulse which winds through the score sometimes shuffling, sometimes slogging, often confident, but always determined. There is no discernible pulse at the outset, just the violins creating a silvery sheen from which emerges a flurry of trumpet fanfares soon contrasted by a varying mix of percussion. As more instruments chime in, the rhythm evokes a rickety locomotive getting up a head of steam until basses and sandblocks clearly establish themselves, only to be overshadowed by a turbulent passage of conflicting episodes. The momentum never falters, though, persisting until trumpets and percussion return for a celebratory outburst bringing Stride to a close on pealing tubular bells. Andris Nelsons led a taut performance rich in color and expression, maintaining both clarity and momentum. Louder passages were very loud, something that would mark the rest of the program, but volume rarely obscured the details.
Ravel’s Piano Concerto for the Left Hand jams more virtuosity into its short span than his full length concerto, composed contemporaneously. Seong-Jin Cho’s left hand scampered along the keyboard with ease, power and finesse, answering the orchestra’s initial crescendo with dark, thundering chords and a breathtaking cadenza. At times levitating from the bench then slamming back down, he threw himself into the opening Lento section with physicality, verve and controlled abandon, then tossed off the Allegro with aplomb. The “Gershwin meets Boléro” aspects were embraced and clearly delineated by both soloist and orchestra while Nelsons’s adept handling of tension and release in the build-up to the conclusion created a catharsis rarely associated with this concerto.
Cho’s encore, Liszt’s Consolation no. 3, created a moonlit moment of repose and reflection before Nelsons’s searing, visceral Rite of Spring. Most conductors give a concert hall reading which privileges drama over danceability. Nelsons is not one of them. This performance was plausibly danceable yet still abundantly dramatic, an approach which gives this often dense score a chance to breathe and reveal its riches. It also balanced the savage and the hieratic, preventing the first part from overshadowing the second. The orchestra responded with gusto. Clarity, color, contrasting sonorities and crisp rhythms were the hallmarks. Enthusiasm sometimes muddled the balance, but this was a performance that hit you in the solar plexus; never more so than in the closing bars when the timpani landed gut punch after gut punch.
