The familiar seems strange these days as we make our way towards something approximating the life of before times. At Symphony Hall, everything looks the same, but on closer inspection is quite different. Yes, you’re right, there is a fresh coat of paint throughout, a new color scheme and accent lights for the stage walls, and the gilt frame of the proscenium glows uncommonly bright. Unseen, an improved ventilation system hums away efficiently filtering and circulating the air. A vax card/test result check now joins the bag check for ticket holders. And required masking provides the opportunity to make a fashion statement. 568 days have passed since the BSO last played here and they are nowhere in sight. The stage is empty and silent until the doors on the right and left open and the orchestra files in to a thunderous standing ovation.
Greeted in similar fashion, Andris Nelsons turned to lead a solemn, sacramental Consecration of the House notable for it rich string sonorities, moderate tempi and outstanding ensemble work from the woodwinds. The first brass fanfare raised goosebumps but there were times when they and the timpani smudged the orchestral balance. Chalk it up to exuberance born of a sense of occasion. This was the first piece the BSO played in its inaugural, 1881 season.
John Williams conducted the world premiere of his Violin Concerto no. 2 in July at Tanglewood. Written for and dedicated to Anne-Sophie Mutter, it exploits her mastery of color and rhythm (Williams specifically mentions her “flair for an infectious rhythmic swagger” in his program note as an inspiration.) in an eventful four movements of kaleidoscopic incidents lasting approximately 37 minutes. Williams’ film scores fly on their melodies; his concert pieces tend to be rhythmically driven. This concerto is no exception. Aside from a few rhapsodic passages, the violin approximates the cadence of speech in a variety of voices expressed with rhythmic variety and rising from a spectrum of moods – by turns angry, hopeful, insistent, sassy, contemplative, annoyed, bawdy, argumentative.
The orchestra rarely answers and most often in chamber groupings, one of the most ear-catching a cadenza in the third movement involving violin, harp and timpani. For the most part, the violin is alone. Only Jessica Zhou’s harp really listens and interjects, in dialogue with the violin from a seat to the right of the podium, usually with a calming effect. In a conclusion reminiscent of Berg’s concerto, Williams has Mutter spin an iridescent filament of sound, which didn’t so much fade as become one with the air around it. An instrumental setting of Williams’ love theme from 1973’s Robert Altman film, The Long Goodbye, served as an encore.