Given Yo-Yo Ma’s mood in last night’s opening concert for Sommets Musicaux de Gstaad with the Lausanne Chamber Orchestra, the organisers might have been well advised to post a radiation warning. Flanked on-stage by leader Clémence de Forceville and principal cellist Joël Marosi, Ma cast radiant smiles at each and intense beams of approbation or exhortation. Their musical DNA cannot fail to have undergone mutation.
It will have surprised no-one that Ma produced gorgeous cantabile legato in Schumann’s Cello Concerto in A minor, nor that he made light of its double-octave runs, double stops and death-defying leaps between opposite ends of the fingerboard. The real eye-opener, however, was the variety of timbres that he produced in the short low register figures, the lashings of good humour with which he turned so many of those into little musical jokes shared with his fellow conspirators, his unstoppable quest to find something new in each element of the score. This was a true expression of the soul of chamber music – but at scale, given that there were over 40 other musicians the stage of Saanen Church.
Since that stage is relatively narrow and deep, it fell to conductor Renaud Capuçon to transmit all that exuberance and musical intelligence towards the musicians at the back who couldn’t see much of him, an enterprise in which he was less than fully successful. Perhaps they were overawed by the occasion, because the opening exchanges between soloist and orchestra were more somewhat scrappy. The orchestral tutti, on the other hand, were strong and tightly together from the outset, and as the piece progressed, the togetherness with the soloist sharpened up and gave us plenty to enjoy.
There was one encore, which Ma chose to play as a mini-concerto with the orchestra’s four cellists, an arrangement of a Catalan folk tune El cant dels Ocells (Song of the Birds), which Ma introduced as having been one of Pablo Casals’ favourites. And with his scheduled appearance complete, the ever-collegiate Ma had one more surprise to spring when he snuck back into the cello section to join them for Beethoven’s Eroica.
This venue and this type of orchestra made for an extremely pleasant way to listen to a Beethoven symphony. The modern instruments and the warm acoustic of the church created a full, rich sound, while the relatively small numbers ensured that clarity was never lost. Capuçon kept tempi brisk and the playing tight; the dance rhythms came through strongly; contrasts were well drawn and variations were well delineated. The string sound was particularly thrilling in the passionate parts, both at full volume or pianissimo, less so in the score’s more relaxed moments. And I’m afraid that I got the distinct impression that woodwind isn’t really Capuçon’s thing. The playing was perfectly accurate, but one wanted each solo to be the star of its moment and to shine through the orchestral wash with real expressivity, and that hardly happened.
Orchestral cavils apart, this was a singular experience of a joyous musical event, watching a true master sharing his craft and inspiring younger musicians.
David’s trip was funded by Sommets Musicaux de Gstaad
[Updated on 2025-04-14 to remove a much-misinterpreted comment]
