Sebastian Weigle is perhaps best known among classical music audiences for his tenure at the Oper Frankfurt where he exhibited a specialism in German opera of the early 20th century – indeed he will be in Munich next year to conduct Strauss’ Die Liebe der Danae. Perhaps less well-known is his relationship with the Yomiuri Nippon Symphony Orchestra of Tokyo where he has been Principal Conductor since 2019; on the strength of a concert of Rachmaninov, Beethoven and Ifukube in London, this is a fruitful partnership.
The concert started with an unusual and invigorating piece. Akira Ifukube was the man behind Godzilla’s roar and composed the score for a number of films in the film franchise, but we were presented instead with an extract from a work about a different monster. Ifukube’s ballet Salome premiered in 1948 to great acclaim and inevitably The Dance of the Seven Veils provides one of the standout moments. It’s a terrific concert opener and a great introduction to a new orchestra, which gave Weigle and his forces an opportunity to demonstrate traits intrinsic to their manner of performance: a firm and sober beat from Weigle, precision of attack, intense focus and an ability to go for the climax. Silky woodwinds, including a classy flute solo, flirted above a powerful angularity to the strings, piquant and acidic. A shimmer to the harp gave a “once upon a time” fragrance before the piece yielded to sultriness, energy and just the right level of ecstatic delirium.
It made a bracing contrast to Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major. Christian Tetzlaff always delivers an interesting performance and while tastes may differ, his interpretation of the piece and the sheer virtuosity on display was impressive. It seemed to be a performance that sought to provide contrast: a sourness in tone seemed overused through the first movement, but when the (all too infrequent) moments of sweetness crept through, they were radiant. There were contrasts too in sound and dynamics: Tetzlaff’s ferocity of attack was juxtaposed with a tendency to take his instrument’s sound down to the lightest level – almost, but not quite, impossible to hear – and forced utter focus on the audience. Harmony reigned in his approach with Weigle, with no sense of one forcing the other. Weigle gave enough space to the orchestra in the second movement to allow a sense of breath, of ebb and flow, without drifting into the maudlin, while a sense of boldness, emphasised by military precision in the violins gave a third movement with a dramatic finale; Tetzlaff hunched over his instrument, almost violent in the manner in which he drew out the sound. It won’t be my favoured interpretation, but it was thoughtful and impeccably executed: a rewarding performance.
And then to Rachmaninov and Weigle’s glossy reading of the Symphony no. 2 in E minor. Oddly, the moment that lingered most was the silence after the dying strains of the strings slipped away at the end of the third movement; an acknowledgement of the journey that Weigle had taken us through as he built up the layers in this airy, yet controlled section. By contrast, the first movement felt less certain early on, a little technically focused and less relaxed. Weigle didn’t hold the orchestra back in his climaxes, which were precisely timed and exuberantly loud. This was Rachmaninov with texture, varnish and just the right level of sentimentality: an accomplished performance to conclude a very welcome visit from this Japanese orchestra.
