Concert life in Singapore has been inching its way to normality over the past few months. Audience and ensemble sizes are still restricted by social distancing rules, but concert programmes are reverting to their usual lengths. Just last week, the Singapore Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Hans Graf, performed a two-hour concert without intermission, showcasing Schumann’s Piano Concerto and two Mozart symphonies. This evening, two major Beethoven works were on the cards.
Robert Schumann’s description of Beethoven’s Fourth Symphony being a “slender Grecian maiden between two Nordic giants” was apt. Its quiet opening is built upon a long-held pedal point on B flat, over which a motif (incidentally shared by the opening of the Fifth) is etched, and was delivered with full restraint and total control. Despite being the polar opposite of the Eroica and the Fifth, the approach Hans Graf took seemed to point to the future of symphonic form. In those early minutes, thoughts of Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique and Mahler’s First came to mind, albeit fleetingly.
The ensuing Allegro was no mere fast and loud outburst, but one of swift lightness, distinguished by lithe textures and clarity of playing. The slow movement continued along this vein, gradually building up in volume and intensity like a series of waves. Humour ruled in the Scherzo and Trio, where the deliberate impression of ungainliness was contrasted by courtliness. What impressed most was the finale, its perpetual motion of rapid tarantella rhythm delivered with a crispness and precision that seemed scarcely possible. This Grecian maiden can certainly fly!
In lieu of an intermission, Graf gave a short preamble on Beethoven’s Violin Concerto, demonstrating the four timpani taps that opened the work and describing that as its DNA. The monumental work, he assured us, was pivotal in the history of violin concerto writing. It has been ages since this concerto was last heard in Singapore, and young Chinese violinist Ziyu He, student of the Mozarteum University Salzburg, rose to the occasion.
Possessing the maturity and poise belying his 22 years, he carved out a rock solid reading characterised by clean and clear tone, allied with impeccable intonation. His entry was confident, and built on from there. The orchestra’s partnership was discreet, and even in the development section’s darker-hued pages, He weathered the storms with steadfastness and fortitude. Even the romanticised and frankly outsized cadenza by Fritz Kreisler held no terrors for this young man.
The slow movement seemed like the model of chaste virtue, its prayer-like subject upheld by violin playing in the highest registers. His fine control held sway even when it seemed most uncomfortable to do so, and the Rondo finale’s romp provided just the release required. Here, earlier trials and tribulations were cast away in a show of joy and jubilation. A dance-like buoyancy was maintained from start to end, with another implausibly anachronistic cadenza (Kreisler again) adding spice to the proceedings. It nevertheless made for a suitably spectacular end to this most sublime of works.
Despite a prolonged clamour for an encore, none was forthcoming from the young soloist. After that close to perfect showing of the Beethoven concerto, anything more would have been superfluous.
