Antonin Dvořák’s overture Othello was the first to be subjected to the Omer Meir Wellber re-think in this opening concert of the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra's season. This bewitching portrayal of the threadbare psyche was surprisingly vivid and fresh. The myriad of key and tempo transitions was precise; just noticeable enough to keep us on the narrative track without being jolted, and gently prompting us to recall the tragedy of the great play around which the piece wends. Wellber’s ability to spring nuanced detail from the score was impressive; the clarity of expression with which the orchestra played, intoxicating.
The grace and profundity of Wellber’s commitment to the score also brought timeless humanity to the work. From the opening Lento until the climax, Wellber and the orchestra led us through a twisted and desolate psychological landscape to a place far away from familiarity. We followed, unquestioning and enthralled; trusting that we would exit unscathed. Spiky metaphysical angst is after all as intrinsic to us today as it always has been.
After Dvořák, Béla Bartók's Violin Concerto no. 1, performed by the CBSO’s newly appointed violinist in residence, Gidon Kremer. His mainstream and lesser-known repertoire is immense, his philanthropic work renowned and his awards numerous. He has a vested intellectual interest in the works of eastern European composers and actively promotes new music for the violin.
The first movement of the Bartók is a poetic Andante sostenuto; supposedly a portrait of Bartók’s unreciprocated love for violinist Stefi Geyer. Here Kremer displayed both an understanding of the spirit of the piece and a commitment to the subtleties of portraiture: light and shade, balance of objects, brushwork. But here too was a musician at one with his instrument, and his ultimate adherence to the ingenuity of the young Bartók; all perfectly buoyed by Wellber and the CBSO.
The Allegro giocoso second movement portrays Geyer’s “cheerful, witty and amusing” personality. We also hear references to a somewhat subversive sense of humour that must surely have played wholesomely into the hands of the adoring, love-sick Bartók. Kremer’s virtuosity was clear, as was his attention to the composer’s specific on-score instruction to the player. At no time were we uncertain of the intensity of the composer’s emotion.