Bread, filling, bread. Overture, concerto, symphony. Despite flirtations with open sandwiches, club sandwiches and two-symphony programmes, it seems that in both cases most people stick to tradition. But not the Philharmonia and András Schiff: last night’s programme began with Mendelssohn’s brooding Hebrides Overture, followed by Brahms’ Fourth Symphony. Dvořák’s Cello Concerto in B Minor came in the second half, performed by British super-cellist Steven Isserlis. To continue in a culinary vein, this programme reversal is somewhat reminiscent of Heston Blumenthal’s infamous snail porridge: there’s no real reason for it not to happen, but the original version is inexplicably more popular.
Felix Mendelssohn had a romantic image of Scotland. Brought up on Romantic literature, particularly Sir Walter Scott, the young German toured Scotland aged twenty. Fortunately for concert-goers and the Scottish tourist board alike, Mendelssohn’s memories of this trip were of kilted Highlanders, misty hills and the cathedral-like caves of Staffa, rather than interminable rain, cold and midges. How different the Hebrides Overture might have been! The piece is a musical description of the Hebrides, from the stormy seas of the opening to the grandeur that represents Staffa’s enormous basalt caves. Schiff’s generous gestures and well-considered tempi moulded gigantic shapes into the tempestuous music, and the pianissimo playing of the strings and woodwind soloists created a magically misty atmosphere.
And so to the oddly placed symphony. The E Minor Symphony is Brahms’ fourth and last, and the one which he feared would not become popular with audiences. This was due to his writing: the shoulder blades of the most complicated compositional technique poke through the musical skin, forcing the listener to take heed of pitch and counterpoint. Possibly in an attempt to hide these bare bones, Schiff took both the first and second movements faster than is often heard. Although this did create convincing musical phrases, the music was a little jumbled at times and the weight of Brahms’ glorious harmony was lost. The humorous third movement, a light-hearted scherzo, was also fast but very successful: the movement ran along with uncontrollable glee, huge dynamic contrasts and pointed accents helping to create the image of a young Brahms on a night out with friends. The final movement, a theme and thirty variations based on a Bach cantata, saw a return of the heavier Brahms sound: this seemed unfortunate after the lively third movement which showed off the Philharmonia at their virtuosic best.