In Seoul’s Lotte Concert Hall, the KBS Symphony Orchestra and the Tokyo Philharmonic joined forces to celebrate the 60th anniversary of diplomatic relations between Korea and Japan. Under the baton of Myung-whun Chung, who holds honorary positions with both ensembles, the event not only symbolized cultural exchange but also demonstrated a cohesive musical venture that resonated with both audiences and musicians alike.
In the first half, Mozart’s Concerto for Two Pianos in E-flat major (K.365) featured Sunwoo Yekwon and Kaoruko Igarashi in a display of coordination and unified phrasing. Their partnership revealed a finely balanced dialogue, although Sunwoo’s more assured expressivity emerged as a distinct presence. Igarashi matched this confidence without overshadowing the concerto’s innate grace, ensuring the interplay retained the music’s refined elegance.
After the intermission, the atmosphere shifted decisively with Mahler’s Symphony no. 1, a piece that intertwines pastoral introspection and grand orchestral outbursts in equal measure. The roster on stage was nearly split between KBS and Tokyo Phil musicians, although the Tokyo Phil’s principal players assumed key leadership roles, reflecting their familiarity with Chung’s interpretive approach. Notably, the collaboration felt more cohesive than the prior KBS-Chung Mahler outing in February, when they performed the Second Symphony.
The first movement opened with an understated hush, emanating from harmonics in the strings that conjured daybreak’s fragile glow. Chung’s pacing here was ample, almost contemplative, creating a dreamy atmosphere that allowed the woodwinds to shimmer unobtrusively. Even the subsidiary theme – easily smothered in less disciplined interpretations – flowed with organic restraint, preserving the movement’s continuity. Although one sensed occasional moments where the ensemble risked losing focus, there was a commendable effort to maintain restraint and clarity.
The second movement’s Ländler-based Scherzo took a more robust turn. Chung pushed the dynamic envelope well beyond the indicated forte, hinting at a near-fortissimo weight that underscored the music’s rustic roots. This choice sacrificed some delicacy but granted the performance a raw, earthy vitality. It functioned as a counterpoint to the opening movement’s ethereal lyricism, reminding the listener that Mahler’s sound world encompasses both pastoral tranquility and folk-infused exuberance.
In the third movement, the famous funeral march introduction emerged from the contrabass solo with conspicuous bite, drawing immediate attention to Mahler’s trademark blend of irony and nostalgia. The Klezmer-like material in the oboe was delivered with a subdued detachment, neither indulging in excessive sentiment nor veering into caricature. That neutrality highlighted the dreamlike strangeness at the music’s core, allowing for a subtle, half-lit atmosphere. One sensed that a more overtly Jewish-inflected interpretation might have heightened the music’s sardonic edge, but Chung’s preference for understatement proved compelling in its own right.
The most majestic moment undoubtedly arrived with the final movement. The sudden eruption of brass and percussion engulfed the hall, delivering shock and awe without pushing the volume to its absolute limit. Even when the horn players stood to project their powerful melody at the end, the ensemble remained unwavering in focus, sharpening the sense of inevitability in the work’s triumphant conclusion.
Still, this Mahler First occasionally revealed some coarse execution. Yet the contrasts between movements – coupled with Chung’s characteristically powerful interpretive drive – ultimately sharpened the music’s dramatic contours. Like the grainy intensity of a high-contrast black-and-white photograph, these rugged edges accentuated Mahler’s expressive extremes, reaffirming the conductor’s innate flair for crafting a grand aesthetic narrative within the symphony’s expansive architecture.
