Visitors from Ukraine to these shores can expect a warm welcome, especially when they come bearing such gifts as were proffered to an appreciative audience at Cadogan Hall. What the Lviv National Philharmonic Orchestra of Ukraine gave amounted to more than the sum of its parts with terrific contributions from the band, soloists and conductor.
The ensemble playing was impressive. In Sibelius’ Symphony no.4 in A minor the brass choked on their chords, as if in terror at being asked to play such stark and unforgiving music. It would have been easy to jump to the conclusion that the piece is all about wandering around the wasteland of the frozen north, but the sound really did give the impression that the symphony could not have been written by someone born on the shores of the Mediterranean.
In contrast, the sound of Brahms’ Double Concerto, another piece in A minor, was the orchestra cosying-up to a pine-crackling, roaring log-fire. Generating the warmth was the woodwind section whose refined tone bore the espressivo stamp with pride. The strings were a joy to hear, especially in Beethoven’s Second Symphony where they sang and danced in equal measure. In the finale they happily made the bungee-jump that the composer sets up for them, with eyes wide open, bodies swaying in sheer exhilaration.
As to the gifts of the soloists, the flautist Mykhailo Sosnovskyi stepped out from his leader’s chair to join the strings in a variegated performance of Yevhen Stankovych’s Chamber Symphony no. 3. The composer is in his eighties, so old enough to have fallen foul of the last gate-keepers of the Soviet regime. His voice, in this piece, speaks of a deep attachment to the folk traditions of his roots. In the Brahms, Oksana Hretchyn (violin) and Jiří Bárta (cello) were on top form, projecting their personalities through rock-solid technique, bold gestures and throwing off animated phrases with panache. Hretchyn’s tone was rich in the central movement and edgy elsewhere. I was very taken with Bárta; his playing was passionate and engrossing. He clearly loves the piece and revels in every opportunity he gets to sing its praises.
Theodore Kuchar has only been in charge of the orchestra for a couple of years but the rapport between him and his players seems to be something of a love-in. He is a very fine conductor who offered up a sound understanding of the essences of the works on the programme. In the Stankovych, which he had a hand in arranging, he homed in on the contrast between the driving rhythmic pulse and the enigmatic, ethereal whisperings; his approach to Brahms was full-blooded, with a fine sense of the architecture of the piece, and was a thoughtful collaborator with the soloist to co-create a hugely enjoyable performance. He conducted the Beethoven from memory and crafted a personalised account to show off the energy and life-affirming outlook of the young composer. Kuchar gave his best in a first-rate reading of Sibelius, staging the symphony as a kind of psycho-drama and skilfully steering it to its unnerving mezzo-forte conclusion. In the eerie silence that followed he turned his head to the audience with a gesture which said “well, that’s what Sibelius wrote”.
Flags, one in the audience and one on the stage, were accompanied by an encore (the rollicking folk dance Honi Viter) to remind us of what is happening in Ukraine. After such an evening, it seems appropriate to say: Liviv long and prosper (apologies to Dr Spock).
