Fresh from two concerts in Lucerne, the Vienna Philharmonic travelled to the Concertgebouw, Amsterdam to perform Strauss' immensely powerful Ein Heldenleben; a bold programming choice as the connections between composer, venue, orchestra and conductor run deep. Heldenleben was dedicated to Willem Mengelberg, Principal Conductor of the Concertgebouw Orchestra at the time of the work’s premiere in 1899. Both he and Strauss conducted it many times with the Vienna Philharmonic, including a 1944 recording conducted by the composer. In 2006, the Philharmonic recorded the work with tonight’s conductor Christian Thielemann. The orchestra's archives list numerous performances over the years, including the last here in Amsterdam in 1992 with André Previn at the helm. A very rich, shared history.
Translated as ‘A Hero’s Life’, Ein Heldenleben is an autobiographical work depicting the composer’s inner turmoil induced by various ‘nagging naysayers’, namely those who berated his first opera, Guntram. The challenge for any conductor is to balance the demands of this fiendishly difficult score with all the intense emotions on offer. How would Christian Thielemann, an outwardly conservative and perhaps emotionally restrained conductor, bring these emotions to the fore and touch our souls?
All started well as an immense wall of brass was equalled by sonorous and disciplined strings. Two truly ominous tubas echoed, blasting away any latent dust particles, famously left untouched so as not to alter the unique acoustics of the Concertgebouw. The music critic Doktor Dehring, represented by the tuba leitmotif, must have been particularly reviled! Thielemann luxuriated in the storytelling. Strauss’ heroism, depicted by the horns, contrasted with the representation of his wife, Pauline de Ahna. Rainer Honeck’s violin solo encompassed her many facets: playful, sweet and flirtatious, but at times the angry, nagging wife, always there to bring both solace and pragmatism to the composer’s endeavours.
As the clean and incisive off-stage trumpets resounded, proceedings started to muddy. The crystal-clear acoustics of the hall were tested as the previously radiant oboe struggled to cut through. Even the percussion, unusually positioned stage left with audience members within touching distance, strained at the sinews. The snare drum’s entrance did not inspire a victorious battle. Many detailed dynamic instructions were overlooked, Thielemann not heeding Strauss’ advice, “Never look encouragingly at the brass”.
But as is so often the case, the Vienna Phil’s survival instinct kicked in. In the quite obvious jubilation following respective top notes from both horn and trumpet, a sense of relief was felt. All revelled in the acoustic and magic reigned. The tam-tam reverberated, introducing the harps’ heavenly ascent before those pesky tubas returned to haunt the hero in his dreams. It was therefore a shame that the violin theme, emerging out of the depths of the cor anglais' slumber, struggled to find the phrasing and emotional intensity in Strauss’ seductive writing. Echoes of Also sprach Zarathustra’s opening fanfare broke the reverie as the percussion finally found their voice.
Earlier, the evening had started with Mendelssohn’s Third Symphony, the “Scottish”, in a surprisingly full-bodied and intensely marauding interpretation. The horn section fully embraced the programmatic portrayal of the stormy Scottish weather and battle scenes. However, more light and shade might have produced a more refined performance allowing the distinct and beautiful woodwind colours to come to the fore. A rhythmically exciting finale saw a few stumbles from both flute and timpani, but some rocky paths are surely par for the course on a mountainous Scottish walk.
