In most cases, knowing that something is ‘headless’ does not exactly come with an impression of reliability and good judgement. Unlike the proverbial chicken, however, the Camerata Salzburg is proof that not all things headless are destined to run around frantically and can, instead, perform repertoire classics. For their latest concert at Berlin’s Philharmonie, the Austrian ensemble – who have been playing without a conductor for almost a decade – offered a programme consisting of Mozart’s Symphony no. 40 in G minor and Brahms’ Piano Concerto no. 1 in D minor, guided only by the cues given by concertmaster Giovanni Guzzo and guest star pianist Hélène Grimaud. Mozart being a relatively safe bet for a Salzburg-based orchestra of this calibre, it was Brahms’ concerto, given its size and complexity, that piqued my curiosity the most.
The popularity of Mozart’s symphony – certified by my first electronic keyboard, whose sample music paired the main theme of the first movement with the time-honoured classic Happy Birthday to You – makes it an easy target for dull interpretations. The Camerata Salzburg brought the piece to life with a decentred approach where dynamics and balances evolved constantly. From the very beginning, the ensemble engaged in a rich dialogue where high and low strings, oboes and bassoons acted as characteristic interlocutors. Being given the possibility to savour each timbre, I was also struck by the orchestra’s sound as a tutti – physical, almost tactile, raw and refined at once. In the more lyrical Andante, the ensemble slowly expanded the opening repeated-note theme, evoking the feel of an extended string quartet. It wasn’t so much the tempi, but rather this condensed energy that made the Camerata’s performance so theatrical. And no better place to find drama, obviously, than the development section of both Allegros, where the orchestra was at its most cohesive.
As expected, the Camerata’s Brahms was no less than peculiar. The same concrete quality of sound was maintained but transferred to a significantly larger ensemble – particularly in the brass section. Having to navigate a full symphonic score with no conductor inevitably meant a certain loss of clarity, at least compared to the previous Mozart. The risk of getting lost in the process was contained by Grimaud, who called the shots on interpretative matters. Not exactly conducting, but leading the orchestra nonetheless, Grimaud presented a wildly imaginative Brahms whose nuances resided mostly in the piano part. Her ability to manipulate the sound, thickening and thinning it within the scope of a single theme, allowed her to experiment with phrasing, especially in the elaborate ride of the first movement.
Scowling at times, dancing at others, Grimaud’s playing was rich in internal polyphony, her hands combining to create a tight weave of voices. Indeed, the Camerata also sounded at its best when joining in the exchange, wrapping around the soloist as if one was the extension of the other, and vice versa. By the third movement, however, it was the piano leading the show: Grimaud’s virtuosity was brillante, and the ensemble seemed to have genuine fun with the whirlwind of ornaments and syncopations. The concert concluded with several rounds of applause but – regrettably – no encores.
