The fifth anniversary of the opening of a concert hall seems a curious one to celebrate. Ordinarily, you might wait a decade or two before reaching for the party-poppers, but we live in uncertain times, where we are daily reminded of the fragility of life and the need for music to lift us out of our gloom. So it’s perhaps understandable, so early after its birth, that Hamburg wanted to shout about its gigantic child, the Elbphilharmonie.
This nine-day celebration could be also seen as a mini relaunch for the building after two years of Covid restrictions. As live performance emerges again, audiences need reminding that it’s possible to hear and see musicians in the flesh. OK, life isn’t normal, but it needn’t be dull. And it also feels to be the moment where the city has accepted that the hall’s massive cost overrun was the price of putting the city firmly on the international musical map. (A €200m original estimate ballooned to €820m). Since its opening by Angela Merkel in 2017, the venue claims to have attracted more than three million audience members – trebling the number of concertgoers in Hamburg.
But it’s not just a concert hall. A hotel, restaurants and public open spaces are included in the huge building, which towers over Hamburg’s commercial waterfront like a ship in full sail. It’s also an education centre, where children (and their parents) can come and learn about music, and perhaps try one of the 500 instruments made available. There’s even an orchestra drawn from the audience, which performs twice a year. London could have had all of this and more in the doomed Centre for Music. It makes you weep...
However, the jury still seems to be out on the Yasuhisa Toyota’s controversial acoustic design for the Elbphilharmonie. The spectacular main hall, laid out in vineyard style with the stage in the middle, allows most of the 2,100 seats to be in reasonably close proximity to the performers, but that doesn’t necessarily guarantee a good experience. German newspapers reported some audience members shouting they could not hear Jonas Kaufmann when he sang there in 2019. “Ask the architect,” he is said to have replied.
Certainly, down on the floor of the hall, the sound is immediate, transparent, almost liquid in quality. There is nowhere for a musician to hide, or indeed an audience member. A cough or a conversation can be heard right around the hall. When Alan Gilbert raised his baton to direct the NDR Elbphilharmonie Orchester in the final work in last night’s gala concert, he paused, turned and fixed a steely glare on a couple just in front of me; he could obviously hear every word of their momentary murmured exchange.