Nicknames are either apposite or inappropriate. Schubert’s Symphony no. 4 in C minor is a case in point. It is in the classic key of so much tragic music. But does it really deserve its unique sobriquet in his compositions? Only the outer movements are cast in this minor key as part of a trajectory towards the major, and in many respects the work is bathed in lyricism and more than a nod towards dance-like elements. You might think that Christoph Koncz, jumping in for Joana Mallwitz on this short tour with the Mahler Chamber Orchestra, would be just the man to reconnect with the Viennese world of 1816, not least because he has spent over a decade as the principal second violin of the Vienna Philharmonic (and he’s still there). But you’d be wrong.
Koncz favoured textures over any kind of blend, viewing every entry as a renewed call for incisive playing, the frequently scything actions of his left arm drawing maximum trenchancy and vigour from the strings, a sharpness from the brass as well as heavily accented woodwind detail, all underpinned by hard-sticked timpani. In short, it was very much a period performance, the ghost of Nikolaus Harnoncourt looking over the conductor’s shoulder. Yet, as so often in these acoustic surroundings, undue force can easily tip over into stridency.
Koncz can certainly get what he wants, and with the collective pedigree of these superb players, it was a case of mind bending to will. He waits too before he begins, commanding the silence, even if pauses between movements are then longer. I just wish he’d given us more Viennese lilt in the Andante as well as a sustained melodic arc. Undoubtedly, there was a huge dynamic range here, often with strings pared back to a whispered accompaniment, but without much sense of any Schubertian heartache. No question either that the MCO can deliver a huge sound when required, yet when the conductor indulges in unmarked ritenutos in the Finale, the effect is that of galloping horses being precipitately reined in, momentum broken.
Earlier, at the start of Schubert's Unfinished, the strings were starved of warmth. This, together with iciness from the woodwind and ominously growling trombones, created a spectral quality, ghosts hovering in the background, the traveller’s body chilled to the marrow. Adopting an almost identical tempo for the following Andante con moto, Koncz achieved a sense of unity across both movements with the bleakest of visions, life on a support-machine.
Oddly enough, this lean and emotionally cool way with the master song-writer from Vienna resulted in the right kind of support for a much later exponent of this art from East Anglia. This was altogether a quite remarkable performance of Britten’s Serenade for tenor, horn and strings. Andrew Staples sounded absolutely at ease in this music, effortlessly negotiating the high initial tessitura of the Dirge, delivering the repeated “Every nighte and alle” with more than a hint of menace, and draining all colour from his voice at the close to emphasise the frost-nipped quality of the surrounding air. In range and expressiveness he was ideally matched by the MCO’s principal horn, José Vicente Castelló, both artists positioned antiphonally behind the strings. There was an especially affecting moment when for his “Blow, bugle, blow” in the Nocturne Staples turned encouragingly to his counterpart. In his accompaniment Koncz was a master of good taste, yet seizing on the dramatic undertones of the stabbing unisons in Elegy. The only miscalculation came in the Epilogue where the off-stage horn was so distant that much of the detail was lost.
