An evening that began with downplayed expectations, ended in a deeply humane and disarming experience. Bernard Haitink, the Chamber Orchestra of Europe and their regular soloist Emanuel Ax offered a rapturous Piano Concerto no. 2 in B flat major, while the rendition of Symphony no. 4 in E minor measured up to the heights of his towering Beethoven cycle several years ago. Over the last two seasons, Haitink has returned with the COE for a complete Brahms cycle. His sensational Beethoven cycle provoked hopes of a similar experience with Brahms, but on this final evening with Brahms’ late works, the expectations were less high. The three preceding performances were of great quality, but none had delivered the deeply humane power that Haitink and the COE brought to Beethoven. Tonight was different, because they achieved just that: another monumental experience.
After Ax sat down at the Steinway, Haitink opened Brahms’ Second Piano Concerto with his left hand gracefully beckoning the horn player to slowly awaken the orchestra with the opening theme. It was the Dutch conductor’s most expressive gesture of the evening. After the strings followed the horn solo, Ax stormed into the sprawling opening piano passage. In its antiphonal setting, the COE’s violins flanked the pianist on both sides, while the basses were stationed to his left. For the first half of the concerto, the beauty of the experience was found in the dense form of Brahms’ composition, crisply brought to life by the orchestra and the pianist. While the Allegro non troppo and the Allegro appassionato moved along, the musicians summoned with technical mastery alternately the brooding or furious moods in the passages. Though the timpani sounded dull at first, they rebounded quickly. The fragile warmth emerging from the oboist Kai Frömbgen early on foreshadowed his sensitive contribution later. It was not until the third movement that the evening was elevated from excellent music making to a very special occasion.
In the Andante, musical magic happened when Haitink permitted Richard Lester to captivate the audience with his solo. The lead cellist offered fiery lyricism to the passage that contrasted beautifully with the streamlined backup of his cellos. For a moment, when Ax’s dainty piano passage joined in on the cello solo, it might as well have been a double concerto, especially later on when the cellist returned with more generosity (even though Brahms has the cello in a different key). When the oboist popped up again for his brief few notes with them, the three shared the dynamic of an experienced trio. They played off each other with tangible warmth and respect. The result was clear: they had enchanted the deeply moved audience into stunned silence.