The London Symphony Orchestra opened its tour programme at the Konzerthaus Dortmund with Britten’s fabulous Sinfonia da Requiem – a lament for peace written at the outbreak of World War 2. Under Chief Conductor Sir Antonio Pappano, the orchestra immediately took hold. Britten’s thunderous opening melted away to leave oboe and alto sax in turn, to push back the clouds and let light flood the sky. The funereal march was unrelenting yet struggled to find the length of line it so deserved. Britten’s worst fears did come to pass as each cymbal crash pierced a sharp nail through humanity’s coffin. Events of yesteryear seemed all too real leaving only the flute and soaring violins to soothe the sea.
The mood of uncertainty continued in Bernstein’s apocalyptic Symphony no. 2, “The Age of Anxiety”, a piano concerto in all but name. In it, Bernstein depicts a musical recreation of Edward Hopper’s 1942 painting Nighthawks and W.H. Auden’s 1947 poem of the same name, where four lonely strangers sit at a wartime New York bar, searching for a happiness that does not exist. Two distant clarinets were matched perfectly by Denis Kozhukhin’s pure and singing piano chorale and, for the first time in the evening, long, beguiling phrases took hold. Kozhukhin trod decisively through Bernstein’s complex score, pitting fragile vulnerability against playful, yet commanding brilliance. Matched by a terrifying tam-tam and remorseless lower strings, compelling left-hand counter-melodies led to a very polite, jazzy Masque which didn’t quite find its funky New York groove – not helped by wavering percussion ensemble. As monumental realism returned, Kozhukhin’s lyrical piano strains promised a brighter tomorrow. This was the LSO I had crossed borders to hear. Kozhukhin is a compelling story-teller whose emotional generosity quite simply makes you fall in love. His encore, In the Church from Tchaikovsky’s Op.39 Children’s Album, confirmed his magic.
To conclude, the LSO performed Tchaikovsky’s Sixth Symphony. Sadly, the opening didn’t quite convince, hindered largely by confusion over viola articulation. All was not lost though, as Sérgio Pires’ breathtakingly quiet solo, delved deep into the clarinet’s chalumeau register, before searing brass saved the day. Further flashes of brilliance came to the fore in the finale: deep despair, charcoal-black lower strings, the trombones’ fervent chorale and the double basses’ pulsating pedal. Descending horns pierced the soul, their rasping wails were nails, this time into the heart.
Pappano’s programme, full of pain, prompted rapturous applause from a packed Dortmund audience, was rewarded with the Polonaise from Eugene Onegin.
