This concert was an exploration of contrasting worlds, a journey that moved from intimate, ethereal contemplation to grand, unbridled romanticism. Lina González-Granados conducted proceedings with a confident hand, though her comfort zone seemed less at ease in the nebulous textures of Debussy and Stephen McNeff the first half, she fully embraced the sweeping emotionality of Rachmaninov after the interval, leading the NSO with passion and energy in Rachmaninov's Second Symphony.
With its charged eroticism and diaphanous harmonies, the Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune is notoriously tricky to pull off as an opening piece. In the hands of González-Granados, several key elements fell into place: the coaxing flute solo at the outset, the whispering strings and the rich palette of shimmering textures. González-Granados knew when to bring depth and weight to the score, steering the performance through moments of delicate beauty and intense crescendos. While the brass section were slightly too dominant at times, she maintained a firm control over the ebb and flow of dynamic shifts. However, much like the faun at the heart of the music, I was left wanting more; this ethereal work failed to transport us to the seductive, otherworldly realm Debussy so skilfully evokes.
The Celestial Stranger is a song cycle for tenor and orchestra by composer Stephen McNeff, inspired by a 17th-century text by mystic Thomas Traherne. This performance marked its Irish premiere. In the composer’s own words “in this cycle of songs our Stranger goes on to marvel at natural wonders and recounts how his brother imagines that in jumping over a stream in the moonlight he falls into a reverse world and leaps over the moon”. Quiet, ominous brass and palpitating percussion opened the first song. Gavan Ring gave an animated account, capturing the mystery of the text. His voice was powerful and lively though on occasion in the more explosive moments the orchestra overwhelmed him in a volley of sound. Ring displayed remarkable precision in navigating the atonal landscape of the work. The calm opening of the third song As Time draws Nigh gave way to a lively, rhythmically taut account of Whitman’s poem. The hollow chimes and intense swells of the final song Farewell to thee were atmospheric, while the last chord was positively eerie.
The second half was taken up with Rachmaninov’s lengthy Second Symphony. Dating from the same period as the Second Piano Concerto, it possesses large amounts of the yearning, Russian melodies and lush harmonies that one would expect from this post-hypnosis period of Rachmaninov’s life. On this more familiar terrain, González-Granados came into her own, leading with a palpable sense of confidence and urgency. From the lugubrious introduction to the riotous ebullience of the finale, she had us riveted. She injected rhythmic vitality into the outbursts of the first movement before the snarl of the brass died away, relapsing into a miasma of gloom. The recapitulation of the first movement possessed a charming vernal innocence to it while González-Granados garnished a deep, heart-felt romanticism from the orchestra.
A sense of mischief lurked beneath the surface of the Allegro molto with its startling accents and taut rhythms while the big melodies of the Adagio were simply played, the clarinet spinning the gossamer thread of its melody with great delicacy. González-Granados milked the lush climax here for all it was worth. Confident and cheerful, the finale bounded along, a kaleidoscope of light and colour, conductor and orchestra swaggering along boisterously.
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