Performances at the Concertgebouw holds a certain cachet especially amongst conductors; a fact not lost on the conductor Antony Hermus, who took just that extra moment to bask in the glory before a hop and a skip down those most famous stairs, to the warmest of Dutch welcomes.
Opening with a jubilant and colourful rendition of Dvořák’s Carnival Overture, the Belgian National Orchestra’s performance was full of exciting accents and incredible attention to detail. Despite the odd moment of questionable tuning as motifs passed around the orchestra, one marvelled at the control from the first horn's sustained note before a melancholic cor anglais solo whisked the music onwards. A menacing bass countermelody from the trombones and tuba perhaps foreshadowed things to come in the second half.
The mood changed however, turning to Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto. A stuttering brass section, initial balance issues between the piano and woodwinds, a sometimes dry pizzicato string sound, coupled with some genuinely scary moments, made for a rather nervy performance. Not all was lost though as a lovely lyrical cello melody in the slow movement was matched by an equally expressive oboe solo, and the orchestra did provide a solid base for the syncopated opening of the finale, but this most challenging of concertos really is a partnership of equals and unfortunately, I was not always convinced.
Boris Giltburg, in contrast, just put his head down and played. Fierce piano octaves, shimmering oscillations and a lightness of touch contrasted with nicely voiced left-hand countermelodies. Incredibly clean pedalling in the cadenza led the audience on a mystical journey, destination unknown. Great storytelling in the second movement, channelling the balletic flair of Tchaikovsky’s writing, left me wondering if Rothbart – the evil sorcerer from Swan Lake – would jump out from behind the piano before piano trills restored peace and serenity. Immensely powerful octaves to finish provided perhaps the most impressive moment.
In his encore, Rachmaninov’s Prelude in C sharp minor, Giltburg explored a totally different colour-world: deeply resonant, and intensely private. Here was the emotion the concerto had lacked.
Montagues and Capulets, part of an assortment of scenes from Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet ballet score, opened the second half on the concert, initially feeling exciting and controlled. Particularly convincing were the bass trombone and tuba who relished their moments, and the tenor saxophone, who in Juliet as a Young Girl managed to blend beautifully while adding a new and confident colour. Hermus valiantly tried to gently coax the BNO through the various soundscapes, but this tragic tale, full of underlying menace which bubbles beneath the surface of every joyous moment, requires skill and determination from all. This performance lacked the necessary terrifying emotional tension and thrilling climaxes. It all felt too safe, too nice. The violins did at last find some menace in The Death of Tybalt, but the trumpets and horns could not match, lacking both precision and clarity.
