At Lotte Concert Hall, Markus Stenz guided the KBS Symphony Orchestra through three monumental 20th-century scores, each demanding a distinct interpretive strategy. The programme progressed organically from Ravel’s hypnotic minimalism, through Prokofiev’s kinetic brilliance, culminating in Schoenberg’s late-Romantic complexity.
Stenz opened Boléro with exemplary patience, allowing the snare-drum whisper to materialise almost imperceptibly. While adhering faithfully to Ravel’s stipulated tempo, he carved breathing space for every instrumental voice within that rigid framework. Woodwind solos unfolded with generous latitude, and the ballet’s gradually intensifying crescendo felt breathed into being rather than mechanically assembled. A few soloists played safe, sacrificing sensuous resonance and slightly dulling the score’s languid expansion; but latent energy exploded past the midpoint, and the sudden return to C major following the brief modulation to E major delivered genuine catharsis.
In Prokofiev’s Piano Concerto no. 3 in C major, Dmitry Shishkin adopted the opposite tactic, privileging propulsion above all else. Scarcely had the clarinet’s opening phrase died away before he surged ahead at a genuinely swift tempo; his crisp articulation created the illusion of even greater velocity, where forceful attack and brisk release imparted a thrilling sense of acceleration. This blend of high baseline speed and momentum-building articulation made the performance feel exceptionally fleet, allowing technical hurdles to vanish in the slipstream. The trade-off was occasional short-changing of Prokofiev’s delicate interplay between lyricism and mechanism, and the reflective character of the second-movement variations sometimes failed fully to blossom. Yet the composer’s wit and poetry flashed vividly throughout.
The finale, which Prokofiev himself called an “argument between soloist and orchestra”, proved most noteworthy: Shishkin and the orchestra displayed unexpected chemistry, intertwining like playful puppies nipping at each other’s necks rather than locking in neat opposition. The piano’s audacious interjections provoked mock-furious orchestral ripostes, their joint hurtle toward the coda generating genuine frisson. Paradoxically, Shishkin was at his finest in the movement’s lyrical second theme. Despite the pace, he sang into this Rachmaninov-esque melody, weighting every note with care while preserving the phrase’s broader sweep. A near-perfect closing double-note glissando drew audible gasps, one of those rare occasions when the effect of “fingers sweeping between the keys” is fully realised.
After the interval, Schoenberg’s tone poem Pelleas und Melisande, compressing a four-movement symphonic architecture into roughly 40 minutes, posed the evening’s sternest test. Stenz sought clarity within the labyrinth: when the fate motif first surfaced in the slow 12/8 introduction, he cleanly delineated each layer, ensuring listeners caught the principal ideas; particularly striking was his handling of Mélisande’s oboe melody, which remained luminously audible amid dense counterpoint.
During the Scene by the Spring, the KBS Symphony struggled with the fast tempos and relentless textural shifts, ensemble precision occasionally faltering. Where the trombone glissandi, possibly evoking Golaud’s jealousy, collided with ominous bass progressions, sonorities muddied and colours dulled, falling short of Schoenberg’s ideal of simultaneous multilayering.
Yet the ensemble revealed its true strengths in the expansive love scene. Marked Sehr langsam, the strings produced a richly concentrated tone while woodwind solos delicately suggested the lovers’ whispers. The timpani eruption at the climax carried authentic tragic weight, and Mélisande’s ensuing death scene became a wrenching lament.
The epilogue received a profoundly considered reading. As the fate and Mélisande motifs returned, Stenz slowed the tempo to an extreme, treating them like after-images fading from memory. The dark, unsettling final chord hovered unresolved in the air, dissolving slowly into silence. The audience, clearly captivated, remained motionless, holding their breath until Stenz finally lowered his hands, releasing them from the music’s spell.
