Early 20th-century Russian landmarks at Tanglewood

A windy, rainy Friday evening at the Tanglewood Festival brought the season’s second collaboration between Kirill Gerstein and Alan Gilbert, this time with a focus entirely on Russian repertoire. By juxtaposing Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto no. 3 in D minor and Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring, conceived just four years apart, Gilbert illustrated the complex evolution of the Russian School of composition during the early 20th century. On the surface, two composers deeply rooted in the Russian tradition looked in opposite directions. Rachmaninov, influenced by Sergei Taneyev, his mentor at the Moscow Conservatory, carried forward the legacy of Tchaikovsky’s Romanticism with his lush, expressive style. In contrast, Stravinsky, a student of Rimsky-Korsakov in St Petersburg, almost single-handedly ushered in modernism, revolutionising rhythmic and harmonic conventions.

Nonetheless, these paths are not as clearly defined as they seem. Kirill Gerstein, with his keen intellectual interest in a vast pianistic repertoire ranging from Bach to Komitas, refused to approach Rachmaninov’s Third Concerto with mere effusiveness, pathos and sparkling fireworks. Together with the conductor, he aimed to craft a soundscape that transcended the confines of the late-Romantic paradigm. The pianist combined a measured, even phlegmatic approach to the work’s pyrotechnics with subtlety in the more introspective passages. Under Gerstein’s touch, the expansive first movement cadenza recalled Mendelssohn’s approach in his Violin Concerto, occasionally bringing in a similar transparency. He consistently highlighted daring harmonic constructs, while the sporadic rhythmic freedom of his approach echoed his ongoing appreciation for jazz and its influences. 

Gilbert’s interpretation of the score effectively addressed criticism about the soloist’s dominance by focusing on dialogue. Conversational snippets between piano and flute, and respectively horn, in the Lento segment of the Finale brought a refreshing and intimate dimension to a work that can be perceived as overly grand. Despite some challenges faced by the orchestra, including weaker moments with inaccurate brass intonation and muffled violins, the overall performance remained commendable. 

The second half featured an inspired rendition of The Rite of Spring. By now, this music is so familiar that the blazing dissonances and constant rhythmic shifts are fully accepted, and the piece functions independently from its ballet context. Few feel the need to refer to notes on the narrative the music was originally intended to accompany. Nevertheless, that narrative aspect remains essential for fully understanding the composer’s intentions, and Gilbert made efforts to evoke it as much as possible. 

From the solo bassoon introduction, wonderfully delivered by Richard Svoboda, to the flute tremolos in the Ritual of Abduction, to the ferocious Glorification of the Chosen One, this performance was rich with detail while maintaining a chamber-like character despite the large orchestral forces involved. Throughout, Gilbert struck a proper balance between roughness and mystery, warmth and detachment. Although some segments felt languid, the final build-up was exquisitely constructed, as was the Dance of the Earth at the end of Part 1. Such effusion – could it be seen as a different shade of Romanticism?