Back to the future: Charlotte Corderoy and the RPO in Russian favourites

Lyadov wrote of his The Enchanted Lake that it reflected “the multitude of stars hovering over the mysteries of the deep”, adding that its orchestral chiaroscuro pictured “incessantly changeable stillness and seeming immobility”. Hence no trumpets or trombones, but long pedal points, and flecks of colour from flutes, harp and celesta needing subtle phrasing. The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra painted this seven-minute tone poem in pastel shades, with conductor Charlotte Corderoy – standing in for the unavailable Ben Glassberg – balancing well the components of this piece of proto-impressionism. Still in her conducting novitiate, she had a fine evening, confirming her early recognition as one to watch.

The next piece in this sold out evening began in stark contrast to all this evanescence: four horns fortissimo asserted thrice a four-note motif, launching the most famous of all concertos, Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto no. 1 in B flat minor. After the stirring introductory string theme, the first cadential flourish from pianist Martin James Bartlett announced his authority in such Lisztian writing. Similarly in the Allegro con spirito main section the fast double octaves punctuated by loud orchestral chords was excitingly brought off, the archetypal 19th-century concerto-as-combat.

The Andantino’s initial flute theme was beautifully played, as were subsequent contributions on the oboe and the cello. Bartlett’s keyboard ruminations upon this material were persuasive, before it was time for the piano to begin the Prestissimo central section with its lively cross-rhythms. The Andantino’s return was marked by some especially sensitive playing of its newly decorated material.

The Allegro con fuoco finale, only a third of the length of the huge first movement, was despatched with the cumulative emotional energy required right up to the coda’s fearsome double octaves with the hands alternating to create a chromatic scale effect. A brilliant performance from the soloist, if one stronger on fiery temperament and technique than on poetry. Although Bartlett’s encore, the first number of Schumann’s Kinderszenen, was abundantly poetic. 

Many a concert offering a trio of pieces from Imperial Russia might have ended with Tchaikovsky, but top of this bill was Rimsky-Korsakov with his masterpiece about storytelling, Scheherazade. Thus a concert beginning with colourful Rimskian orchestration in the Lyadov, ended with the real thing. The solo violin impersonating the buttonholing narrator was fluently played here by guest leader David Adams. The trombones sounded as implacable as the Sultan they impersonate at the start, and Corderoy caught nicely the compelling sea-swell motion of the first movement, The Sea and Sinbad’s Ship. In a fine night for the whole woodwind section, the principal bassoon and clarinet played with beguiling warmth and skill whenever required. The RPO displayed good corporate rhythm in the frequent dancing passages, and the slow movement was laden with very well-articulated swirling phrases, suggestive of oriental arabesques. The exuberant last movement – more energetic dancing rhythms from the RPO – offered some towering climaxes before the tumult faded away to a pianissimo. But Corderoy, who had never been to Cadogan Hall before, judged London’s most lively acoustic swiftly enough to avoid the big brass-dominated climaxes becoming coarse. 

This might once have looked a hackneyed programme, but when it comes to Russian classics these masters seemed to have been overtaken by their successors of the next century, with orchestral works from Rachmaninov, Prokofiev, Shostakovich and Stravinsky dominating recent schedules. So it was good to be reminded that the enduring calibre of former favourites ensures them of a future.