The Wiener Symphoniker is 125 years old, and they are partying in style. Accompanied by a host of online best wishes including those from Arnold Schoenberg’s great grandson Joey, celebrations kicked off in Vienna’s Musikverein last week before embarking upon a very grand tour of Europe’s finest concert halls. Last night’s stop-off at Amsterdam’s Concertgebouw finished with two Johann Strauss polkas that brought the house down. Nobody plays Strauss quite like the Viennese.
Their tour programme with Chief Conductor Petr Popelka reflects different aspects of their history. Pairing Grieg’s bombastic Piano Concerto in A minor – first performed by the orchestra on 15th February 1902 – alongside Mahler’s First Symphony – the work which really introduced Popelka to Vienna – brought crowd-pleasing charm. Coupled with Amsterdam’s strong Mahler associations, history it seemed, was at every turn.
Jan Lisiecki’s performance of Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A minor was a revelation. His very natural music-making was full of ebb and flow, unleashing power when required but never at the expense of beauty. Melody was king and, like the very best pianists, the direction of travel was always clear. Detailed attention to the ends of phrases in particular meant that each had something new to say. Shimmering luminosity vied with thunderous tumult in the cadenza as he toyed with the Concertgebouw acoustics.
The Adagio’s stunning orchestral opening, marred only slightly by wobbly flute intonation, set the scene. In crept the piano, its shimmering flickers floating in the wind. With his head firmly facing south, a bravura technical feast ensued as we hurtled headlong into the Finale, Lisiecki never afraid to find the fun, the unexpected or the glory. The piano’s intimate chamber-like duet with the cello was a perfect metaphor for this young man’s work. His tender reading of Grieg’s Arietta left its mark in his encore.
Harsh metallic strings heralded a frosty dawn awakening for Mahler’s First Symphony. Despite continued wobbly woodwind intonation, Popelka gently caressed this new world into being. The Symphoniker’s strength lies in its rock-sold brass and a huge and sonorous string section. Tiered high up the Concertgebouw stage and with bows moving as one, the visual display was compelling. The musicians revelled in Popelka’s musicality. His economy of movement, allowing them time and space to breathe, was very much at the fore.
A rustic yet measured Ländler led to a full-bodied and purposeful funeral march, the double bass solo allowing little time for self-pity or sorrow. Only with the oboe’s countermelody and deathly quiet violins did fate knock at the door. As we entered the Finale, Popelka unleashed the full might of his forces, shaking the Concertgebouw’s very core. In intensely emotional moments, he pulled at the heartstrings, interrupted rudely by a deafening tam-tam. Understated, muted trumpets however, signalled that the end was in sight and the brass dug deep. As the strings recreated dawn’s earlier awakening call and barking violas hailed the passing of time, emotion hung heavy in the air. Mahler’s power to change the world laid bare for all. With horn bells aloft, Mahler, in all his glory, filled the hall.
