The second of Kirill Petrenko’s two Proms with the Berliner Philharmoniker saw a near-perfect account of Bruckner’s Fifth Symphony neatly paired with a triad of motets by the same composer. One expects high things from these forces, with the rapid sell-out of tickets for these concerts testament to their status as perhaps the world’s most revered orchestra.
Of course, there was that sound which one expects of the Philharmoniker, with purring, sonorous brass and a rich glow to the strings. These faculties no doubt contributed in large part to the success of tonight’s symphony, but I was equally struck by the smaller things here. Those string players move and breath as one, with knowing grins not infrequently shot between desk partners at the peak of a particularly luscious phrase. From my seat, one sensed that the string sound seemed to originate from the very back of the section, with the fortissimo tremolos just as wild in the back desks as at the front. The horn section, led by the indefatigable Stefan Dohr, play with all the physical movement and engagement of woodwind players, sharing their sound with their colleagues. The wind and brass principals play with all the intensity of character demanded by their status as familiar names and faces thanks to the success of the orchestra’s social media machine. Dohr’s remarkable stamina is worthy of particular mention, playing two hefty programmes back to back with no assistant principal anywhere in sight.
Kirill Petrenko cuts a demure figure, shrinking from the Karajan mould of the superstar conductor and directing from the rostrum with the air of a man who simply loves his job, though is perhaps even a little abashed about the whole thing. At least outwardly, there is no sign of ego here. Petrebko's attention to detail is second to none, and yet his pacing of this most complex of symphonies (even by Bruckner’s standards) set out every paragraph in perfect proportion and context. At 74 minutes, his reading came in quicker than Karajan, Klemperer, Haitink, Thielemann, Wand and Jochum. It was a pity that a couple of tempo changes led to momentary instability of ensemble.
Tempos were generally brisk in all but the slow movement, which was spacious and expansive. These tempos never sacrificed drama; the crises of the first movement snarled out with utmost anguish. The Scherzo rollicked along for the most part, though the frequent tempo changes occasionally felt surprisingly uneven. The finale was more muscular, though the brass and wind interactions were as smooth as a musical line being handed between manuals of an organ. The subito piano a few bars from the end, to allow the flutes to be heard, was an interesting imposition though perhaps a tad self-conscious in the quest for detail. Nonetheless, the jubilation of the last pages was richly deserved.