The Residentie Orkest, The Hague has been through turbulent times, Matters deteriorated to such an extent that the musicians offered to forgo a portion of their salary in order to save their jobs and keep the orchestra alive. Under their newly appointed Chief Conductor Jun Märkl, all now seems much more secure and the orchestra has a new story to tell. Their loyalty has been rewarded with a rather wonderful new concert hall, the Amare, and in a bold move, South Korean violinist Bomsori Kim joins the family this season as Artist-in-Residence. Tonight’s concert in Amsterdam’s Concertgebouw marked a new chapter in the orchestra’s history, but what story are they telling, and would it be one which chimed with the audience in the hazy Amsterdam metropolis?
As an enthusiastic advocate of Saint-Saëns, Jun Märkl dedicated much of this inaugural concert to the composer’s work, opening with a strangely joyous reading of Danse macabre. Only as cascading scales and trombone wails unfurled, did death rear its ugly head and knock on the door; the timpani and bass drum rattling those skeletal bones.
Resplendent in floaty white dress, Bomsori Kim descended the Concertgebouw stairs for the first of her two offerings: Saint-Saëns’ Introduction and Rondo capriccioso. Full of hope and passionate outbursts, her richly expressive style in the more lyrical passages kept both orchestra and conductor on their toes even if occasional stumbles and a lack of clarity in the faster passagework masked the way. All built to a sparkling finale.
Following a quite forgettable reading of Saint-Saëns’ obscure Marche héroïque, Bomsori returned for Wieniawski’s rarely performed Fantasie brilliante on themes from Gounod’s Faust with its endless scales. While it was very nice to witness her acrobatic prowess, I was left questioning this very safe, if rather mundane choice. Her encore, the Polish Caprice by Grażyna Bacewicz, while very nice, was sadly just more of the same.
Thankfully the haze lifted from the very first notes of the Suite from Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. Full of drama and visual tension, the ballet, based on Russian and German folklore, tells how Odette, who was turned into a swan by the evil Rothbart, is destined to live by night on a lake created from her mother’s tears. Her only hope of freedom is the unwavering love of one who has not loved before – enter Prince Siegfried.
From the opening notes, the Residentie Orkest burst into life. In crept the violins, treading lightly so as not to anger the evil sorcerer. And unlike earlier, when the horn’s off-beat accompaniment had overwhelmed all around, they now found a heightened sensitivity, matched by delicious cymbal shimmers and a cheeky trumpet tempting fate – the swans were in full flight. Violas and oboe weaved their magic in the Czardas, underpinned by magnificent double basses, before the harp’s heavenly strains brought visions of fluttering tutus onto the Concertgebouw stage. The violin’s mournful pleading in Odette’s nocturnal dance, captured delightfully by Wouter Vossen, drew a smile from the podium. Dynamic contrasts and scurrying violins kept everything alive while the cellos added a welcome degree of poignancy.
As the evil sorcerer conjured his menacing turmoil, thundering timpani summoned a glimmer of light signalling the lover’s joyful reunion. The tuba and harp’s dying strains left hope hanging heavy in the night.
