Line, rhythm and spectrum: Jaap van Zweden and the Seoul Philharmonic in the present tense

At Lotte Concert Hall, Jaap van Zweden and the Seoul Philharmonic offered what felt like a dress rehearsal for their US tour (their first in more than a decade): a concise, three‑work programme across two halves. Jae-il Jung’s Inferno and Rachmaninov’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini with Jaehong Park made up the first half; after the interval, Brahms’s First closed the argument.

Seoul Philharmonic’s première of Jung’s Inferno spoke like a score shaped by film: intuitive and in high relief. Cast as an opening span, a vehement central panel and two slow paragraphs, metallic percussion stamped each tableau like a brand, while van Zweden prioritised propulsion and large‑block architecture over local filigree. In the later pair of slow pages, a plain‑spoken clarinet line, haloed by vibraphone and harp, leaned steadily toward tragedy; the epilogue quoted Calvino, framing the work as a search for “what is not hell within hell”. If the joins between scenes felt exposed – and if the harmony grew more filmic toward the close, easing tension just when pressure might have deepened – a touch of pre‑tour retouching could close those seams and add finish.

Park’s Rachmaninov put clarity of note‑values and rhythm ahead of flashy rhetoric. An early balance issue briefly saw the orchestra cover the piano, but from the mid‑section (Vars 11–16) stability returned, helped by restrained pedal and crisp articulation. The Dies irae (Var 7) revealed the lines without bass showboating; Var 18’s inverted contour spoke with tidy logic under discreet rubato. In the closing bracket (Vars 22–24), propulsion and lucid attack yielded outstanding readability, though a bolder timbral experiment in the cadenza‑like writing and coda may have left a deeper mark. An artist who has moved from muscle‑first projection towards score‑centred, restrained lyricism, Park here offered a clear, decorous achievement; the indelible personal stamp feels, for now, withheld. 

In Brahms’ First Symphony, the initial impression was clarity of line. At strikingly high resolution, every strand sat apart; even at assertive dynamics the orchestra kept its shape, attacks were tidy and the polyphony spoke with knife‑edge focus. The slow introduction held a live pulse – short, centred strokes in timpani and basses meant no slack in the slip into Allegro – after which a quick basic beat and clean articulation let the first subject and its inner‑part motifs rise on equal terms. 

The Andante sang without drag; the oboe–leader–horn exchange projected with chamber transparency. The third movement kept a buoyant 2/4 and short bowings, its Trio building energy rather than mass so the reprise sat naturally. In the finale, the Alphorn call and chorale were neatly voiced, and in the Allegro the emphasis fell squarely on con brio: van Zweden resisted broadening and drove the Più allegro straight to a crisp cadence. Ears attuned to plush, saturated sonics may hanker after bloom; to mine, the gains in structure, rhythmic spine and overtone transparency were bracing, and the Seoul Philharmonic met the challenge with poise and power.

As a pre‑tour snapshot it was unambiguous: an orchestra intent on renewing the canon in the language of now rather than sealing it behind glass. Set beside Jung’s commission, the evening read as a living self‑portrait: tradition re‑phrased in today’s grammar.