Valery Gergiev and the LSO drove headlong into the busy Budapest traffic of Bartók’s The Miraculous Mandarin Suite. Scurrying strings, squealing winds and honking brass all inform the ear that we are at ground level. Certainly, the eponymous Mandarin could probably pass the window of temptation in this tale of entrapment, robbery and murder at any height, but ordinary mortals, and particularly tramps and prostitutes, operate better in gravity’s grasp. In this vivid performance, Bartók came over as one of the best composers Hollywood never had. I was reminded of Bernard Herrmann when LSO trombones slid up the jazzy minor 3rd, representing the three tramps who force the prostitute to tempt victims inside. The clarinet’s “decoy game” here wonderfully delivered, depicted the salacious dance intended to reel in the gullible.
Moments of battery were aided by five percussionists plus timpani. However, it was also interesting to note the colourful contribution of quiet cymbals to the orchestral palate. Anyone even unconsciously aware of the limits of human breath surely felt the tension produced by unbelievably sustained horn notes, possible only by circular breathing or, more likely, superb relay teamwork.
The story’s mortal dust-up denouement was conveyed through a fierce fugal passage, the first of several moments where the mighty LSO strings made their mark. Their energy spread through the orchestra until punchy brass figures showed what enthusiastic articulation brings to the rhythmic table. This was a fine opener delivered with all necessary sleaze and urgency.
Yefim Bronfman joined the orchestra for a work composed in Bartók’s final year of failing health: Piano Concerto no. 3. Within the first movement, Bronfman had the opportunity to display a wide variety of textures and touches, from the light opening theme to dense Rachmaninovian chords which, at one point, accompany an orchestral theme. Orchestral touch was also to the fore in one moment which seems to conjure up a glorious free-fall.
Malcolm Gillies’ fine programme note described the Adagio religioso’s nod to Beethoven’s “Hymn of Thanksgiving to the Divinity from a Convalescent” from his String Quartet in A minor, Op.132. In the movement’s outer sections, which seemed almost free from the rigours of pulse, there was time to note Bronfman’s fine touch at phrase endings. A more furtive scurrying mood informed the “night music” section.
The syncopated bounce of the closing Allegro vivace suggests more rude health than was to prove the case for Bartók. His increasing interest in Baroque counterpoint shone in an ebullient fugato passage which, beginning in Bronfman’s left hand, then right, soon spread through the orchestra. The ability of the piano to allow a counter-intuitive increase of energy as one gets lower was striking as Bronfman approached the home straights. In appreciation of a very warm Usher Hall response, Bronfman honoured Bartók’s late-in-life love of Baroque counterpoint with a delicately phrased and non-ostentatious performance of Scarlatti’s Sonata in D minor Kk11. Given the density of texture of the three programmed works, this seemed an inspired sorbet of a choice.