After the recent 80th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, it was appropriate at the start of this BBC Symphony Orchestra concert to hear from one of the many Jewish musicians who perished there. Czech composer Pavel Haas (1899-1944) was still a composition pupil of Janáček in 1921 when he wrote his Scherzo triste. This attractive work shows the influence of his teacher in the use of the folk inheritance and speech patterns of his country. Young man’s music with lively rhythms, which Czech conductor Jakub Hrůša relished, its metrical complexity presenting no problems for the agile BBC strings. The brief lyrical passages did not seem especially triste, but there was a quietly poignant envoi.
For Beethoven’s Piano Concerto no. 2 in B flat major the soloist was Jonathan Biss, a former BBC New Generation Artist. The first American graduate of that NGA scheme is now long established as author, teacher, pianist and expert on Beethoven, as this performance demonstrated. The intricate figuration that is a feature of the first movement was cleanly articulated, the give and take with the conductor visibly and audibly close. The first movement cadenza was written long after the rest, its more mature style sounding as if it has strayed in from the future, but it was played with high virtuosity. The Adagio also offered intricate decorative playing, and the finale’s swift tempo set by the soloist for his orchestral colleagues might have brought anxiety to lesser musicians than those of the BBCSO. Although a steadier tempo might paradoxically have generated a greater sense of momentum. The encore of Schubert’s G flat Impromptu, on the composer’s birthday, restored some poise.
Shostakovich’s Eleventh Symphony is titled 1905 in reference to 9th January 1905 when a large group of peaceful protesters, workers and their families, gathered before the Winter Palace hoping to present a petition to the Tsar. Soldiers opened fire and defenceless hundreds were slaughtered. The second movement of the symphony, called The Ninth of January, portrays these events. The tunes of revolutionary songs of the era punctuate the score, highly evocative even if one does not know the Russian lyrics, and seamlessly entwined with the composer’s own original material. Some years ago in London the Russian National Orchestra played the Eleventh under Mikhail Pletnev, revealing its once doubted greatness, at least to me. I have bored many people since saying it was as great a performance of the work as could be imagined. Last night Hrůša led the magnificent BBCSO to an equivalent, perhaps superior, achievement.
From the haunted opening on strings and harps, and Principal Trumpet Philip Cobb’s eloquent fanfare, tension filled the Palace Square. Icy harmonies, glacial stillness, and threshold-of-audibility dynamics transported us shivering to the St Petersburg of that unsettled era. The Ninth of January was fast and frightening, the dynamic range now very wide, as side-drums rattled out gunfire. The In Memoriam movement (Adagio) was graced by the twelve violas solemnly intoning their funeral song for the fallen workers. At the end the conductor brought that whole section to its feet ahead of anyone else. Hrůša here confirmed his reputation, as fine a conductor as we now have. Rarely has there been so palpable a sense of musical and physical energy sending a charge from podium to players, and out into the auditorium. As the final tocsin bell of the work faded over the snow-strewn and blood-soaked scene, many rose to acknowledge this vivid experience.
