Richard Strauss is unique among composers in finding inspiration in the exploits of two literary Spanish noblemen, and it was entirely appropriate that in this concert by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra these musical Dons should have been conducted by a Venezuelan señor. Both tone poems have to some extent characteristics in common – the eponymous figures can be seen as pure fantasists – and both end quietly with the demise of their respective heroes.
If you offer an audience two works in which rich orchestration is the name of the game, you will need something by way of a contrast. Mozart and Strauss make good stablemates in concert, not least because for all his occasional bombast the later composer also had a perfect command of the lyrical grace and chamber-like delicacy which the lad from Salzburg had at his fingertips.
Making his debut with the RPO Rafael Payare chose a relatively small ensemble for the “Haffner” symphony, and in the opening Allegro the playing was both stylish and con spirito (as indicated in the score), yet here and in the following movements the sound was very much string-led. The wind, brass and timpani (with the exception of the finale) were kept firmly in check, so that the minuet was somewhat starved of its panoply of grandeur, as was the case in the final movement where the most regal of keys (and D major is all about triumph and rejoicing) needed a more resplendent touch. That said, it was in many respects a traditional reading which would not have been out of place a half-century ago. Indeed, Karajan gave a remarkably similar account in this very hall back in the 1950s, with the serenade-like character of much of the string writing clearly to the fore.
Payare is obviously at home in Strauss, and in these two Dons there was plenty to admire, both in the playing of the RPO and in the confident conducting of complex scores. Would Don Juan be able to get away with his “crimes” today? If he wasn’t booked for sexual harassment (and worse!), a lengthy spell in a rehab centre would surely be considered necessary to bring this specimen of testosterone-fuelled machismo and irrepressible self-belief back to the real world which the rest of us inhabit. This Don Juan was light on its feet, powering through the faster and louder passages without any excess baggage, but also alive to the seductive potential of the softer and slower passages. Payare picked out without any undue spotlighting those instances of orchestral colour which stick in the memory and caused contemporary audiences to marvel at a 24-year-old’s ability to create a stir in the musical world, like the cachinnating chromatics in the woodwind as this particular Don goes to a masked ball, or the wonderful little shivers from the strings after his death by Don Pedro’s sword, all here delivered with a deft sense of purpose.