The Royal Liverpool Philharmonic’s latest concert with their Conductor Laureate Vasily Petrenko was a study in musical contrasts, from Lyadov’s fleeting sorcery to the vast emotional terrain of Shostakovich’s wartime Seventh Symphony. Across the afternoon, Petrenko’s clarity of gesture and architectural sense of pacing revealed a conductor in full command of scale, texture and drama.
Lyadov’s orchestral works rarely grace concert programmes, yet Petrenko has long been an advocate for these concise, vividly scored gems. Baba-Yaga is a whirlwind – blink and it’s gone. In barely three minutes, this mini Sorcerer’s Apprentice unleashed a potent rush of vivid colour and rhythm. The tarantella-like episode near the end seemed to conjure an image of an enchantress spinning a spell, just as persuasive as Petrenko himself with baton in hand.
There was a late programme change due to the breakdown of the RLPO's truck transporting instruments back from Bristol, resulting in limited rehearsal time. The scheduled UK premiere of Victoria Borisova-Ollas’ Cello Concerto was replaced with Haydn’s familiar D major concerto, agreed between Petrenko and soloist Victor Julien-Laferrière. The opening Allegro moderato was light and unhurried, but never without direction. In the Adagio, Julien-Laferrière’s tone had a poised stillness, shaped with exquisite balance between soloist and orchestra. The closing Allegro was buoyant and graceful, its charm mirrored in the orchestra’s supple phrasing. Throughout, soloist and conductor used dynamics and harmonic tension to give the music breadth and vitality. As an encore, Julien-Laferrière offered the Allemande from Bach’s Sixth Cello Suite, dignified and elegantly understated.
Few symphonies match the scale or intensity of Shostakovich’s Seventh, the “Leningrad”. It remains a monumental work – one of defiance and devastation – and Petrenko’s interpretation showed a deepened emotional insight since his last performance of it in Liverpool. The opening Allegretto unfolded with inexorable logic, the first snare drum emerging almost inaudibly from behind the violas before two more joined, one at the rear of the first violins and the other from the furtherest reaches of the choir stalls, surrounding the hall in a mounting wave of an almost relentless ostinato. This spatial effect created a panoramic, almost cinematic breadth of sound. The Moderato brought fleeting lyricism tinged with icy restraint, while the Adagio grew from hymn-like serenity into something darker and desolate.
In the finale, Petrenko drove his vast orchestral forces with precision and power. The climaxes resounded fiercely against the Philharmonic Hall’s walls, the sense of triumph hard-won and tinged with grief. Yet amid the enormity, Petrenko maintained control and clarity, allowing the work’s underlying humanity to emerge. The result was a performance that was monumental and profoundly moving, a reminder of Petrenko’s ability to combine intellect, discipline and emotional truth in a work seemingly close to his heart.
