At Seoul Arts Center, Vladimir Jurowski conducted the Berlin Radio Symphony Orchestra in an all-Brahms programme that simultaneously evoked the composer’s profound heritage and the edgy vibrancy of a fresh interpretation. The opening Variations on a Theme by Haydn showcased Jurowski’s trademark clarity of texture, ensuring that Brahms’ classical scaffolding emerged lucidly amid the ensemble’s glowing colours. While there were fleeting moments of imbalance – likely due to the orchestra’s initial acclimatisation to the hall – one could not help but admire the conductor’s crisp sense of rhythm, which propelled the music forward with unerring purpose. The final section, in particular, demonstrated a heightened sense of focus, hinting at the visceral energy that would come to full bloom later in the evening.
Ray Chen then took to the stage for Brahms’ Violin Concerto in D major, delivering a performance notable for its resolute drive and formidable technical assurance. From the first movement’s bold entry, he communicated an audacious fervour that might seem unorthodox to those accustomed to a more reposeful Brahms. Yet there was an undeniable magnetism in his articulate bowing and pinpoint intonation, a testament to his capacity for sustaining intensity without sacrificing musical integrity. Though moments of tension occasionally verged on brashness, these episodes contributed to an aura of spontaneity, amplified by the orchestra’s deft interplay. The slow movement was comparatively restrained, its interplay with the woodwinds exuding a graceful introspection. In the finale, Chen unleashed a spirited torrent of Gypsy-inflected motifs, all the while maintaining incisive clarity of line, a vivid display that capped the concerto with zestful flair.
After the interval, the evening’s centrepiece arrived: Brahms’ First Symphony. Jurowski’s decision to employ a 12-12-8-8-6 string configuration proved a masterstroke in balancing his orchestra, granting luminous transparency to the brass and woodwinds. The opening movement bristled with gravitas, yet never wallowed in undue weightiness. Instead of indulging in ponderous shifts of tempo, Jurowski pressed on with a firm but never rigid pulse, allowing each thematic transformation to unfold naturally. One scarcely felt any self-conscious solemnity, for Jurowski trusted the music’s inherent grandeur to speak for itself.
That sense of proportion carried through the inner movements, where the violas and cellos offered a warm yet articulate underpinning. The horns, too, emerged with gleaming authority, their lines woven seamlessly into the subtle fabric of the strings. Particularly in the second movement, Jurowski permitted a discreet rubato, affording the romantic contours ample breathing space while maintaining a cohesive architectural vision. Here, one witnessed the synergy of an orchestra thoroughly committed to a unified sonic ideal, simultaneously transparent and robust.
In the finale, the brass choir soared resplendently above the surging strings, crystallising the work’s epic narrative in a blaze of affirmation. The sense of momentum was palpable and yet Jurowski remained sensitive to detail, inviting the woodwinds to shape their phrases with buoyant expressivity. It was a conclusion that felt both majestic and refreshingly unforced, the orchestra maintaining a poised discipline even in moments of rhapsodic release.
One cannot help but notice, however, that within his trademark balance of historically informed principles and modern orchestral splendour, Jurowski has recently nudged his interpretation towards a subtly more romantic stance. This shift likely reflects the influence of his growing engagement in opera, where dramatic spontaneity often takes precedence. Rather than tightening his grip on every phrase, he now grants the ensemble greater latitude to shape the music’s natural ebb and flow. The result remains structurally lucid yet glows with a heightened warmth, suggesting an evolving depth in his artistry that gracefully fuses clarity with a refreshed expressive breadth.
