The Wiener Symphoniker is a first class orchestra but can, on occasion, be accused of playing, well, like an orchestra which is paid to perform. Not so last night at the Konzerthaus. In a testament to the ability of strong musicianship to inspire, Leonidas Kavakos elicited engagement and clarity of sound that was thrilling. Paired with a programme guaranteed to guarantee that all’s right in the world, it was a welcome treat as Omicron rips through Europe, putting cultural events everywhere on an uncertain footing.
In the long Viennese Stehgeiger tradition, Kavakos was the soloist in the opening Mozart Violin Concerto no. 4 in D major, K218, conducting by bow. Despite my faiblesse for numerous modern violinists, there are few I am so eager to hear performing this concerto, which has seen 71 performances at the Konzerthaus since its inception in 1775. Kavakos possesses unique bow-arm control and a slender sound ideally suited to the Wiener Klassik. While the first movement felt slightly driven, resulting in intonation and ensemble issues as all parties shook off their opening jitters, I prefer the excitement of the risks to storied, recorded perfection any day. From the atmospheric Andante cantabile, sailing was smooth. Kavakos’ restless approach was haunting, and during the cadenza he pared back his sound until it was nearly transparent, stopping breaths as we all leaned in. The Rondeau finale was joyous – containing no downbeats, only upwards gestures, and though at one point the ensemble was taken by surprise by a cadenza, interest never lagged.
Prokofiev’s First Symphony answers the question of what Haydn would sound like if he was born harmonically in the early 20th century but educated stylistically in the 18th. The work is witty, classically constructed, but contains the composer's ability to reconcile angular motifs and harmonic chromaticism with form and charm. The four movement jaunt is a perennial hit. It reminds us that the bassoon is the most intentionally hilarious of the orchestral instruments in the opening movement, composed in distilled sonata form yet harmonically progressive, full of disjunct, spacious melodic leaps. The second, slow and melodically driven, was played with such transparency that every voice could have been easily transcribed by someone interested in that sort of thing. Honestly, the interlaced string lines were clean enough to eat from. The third and fourth movements resemble classical renditions of a carnival visit and a day at the horse races respectively, with enough comical Easter Eggs to make the most cynical listener grin.