For his latest subscription series at the helm of the New York Philharmonic, Czech conductor Jakub Hrůša selected works by three composers born not far away from his home town of Brno. A Central European spirit might be difficult to define, but at least the seldom performed bookend pieces – Kodály’s Concerto for Orchestra and Martinů’s Symphony no. 1 – had a lot in common: both composed around 1940 and premiered in the United States... but never played by the Philharmonic before Thursday night. Both are also anchored in folk music and Baroque forms while tinged with whiffs of modernistic idioms (jazzy patterns included).
Preceding the much more famous work bearing the same title by his compatriot and friend Bela Bartók, Kodály’s Concerto for Orchestra is a work in five movements treated almost as a concerto grosso. Marked by Hungarian melodies and rhythms, the quick parts are vivid, with dense orchestral textures. Unfortunately, Alice Tully Hall is not exactly the place to hear a large orchestral apparatus and, despite the conductor’s efforts in reigning the opulent sound, the brass players were occasionally too loud. There was no such issue during the slow, less inspired slow parts, Hrůša letting several string players – cellist Carter Brey, violist Cynthia Phelps, concertmaster Sheryl Staples – shine during their soloistic interventions.
Martinů’s First Symphony was the evening’s big, pleasant surprise. The conductor is a great champion of his compatriot’s music, and his glorious rendition was a highly convincing one. From the pair of B minor and B major chords at the beginning of the first movement to the last uplifting bars of the finale, Hrůša steered the New York Philharmonic through a soundscape full of rich textures where structures, colours and rhythms were wondrously wound together. Underlining the ambiguous melodic resolutions and the polymetric patterns, he revealed the uncanny sense of a constantly evolving organism that permeates the score. Details – such as the generous use of the piano as an orchestral instrument, a plangent oboe solo in the Scherzo or a cor anglais intervention in the Largo – were brought forward but remained perfectly integrated in the musical tapestry. The contemplative slow movement, opening with an eerie and dark melody played by the cellos and double basses, full of unobtrusive chromatic exploits, made one wonder why Martinů’s output, quite present in mid-20th-century American musical life, lost its appeal.
Of course, there was little surprise in Yuja Wang’s rendition of the Liszt’s Piano Concerto no. 1 in E flat major, in the sense that her wonderful musical sensibility and unconventional approach to every phrase, her brilliant technique or her feathery touch were as much present in every bar as the many listeners expected. She charged into the opening theme with a mixture of strength and delicacy. The poetic charm Wang displayed in the slow movement was astonishing. The few lines of dialogue with clarinettist Pascual Martínez Forteza were exquisite. Wang is a truly great artist, but one would wish her encores would be more varied. At least the flashy Liszt transcription of Schubert’s Gretchen am Spinnrade – that she shaped quite superficially – was a well-fitted tailpiece to the concerto. During the entire performance, Hrůša offered great support. The conductor was always in sync with where the soloist wanted to take the music, proving to be a thoughtful accompanist; one more reason for this young maestro to be considered a great choice for any of the forthcoming music directorship openings at several top American orchestras.
