One could hardly dream of a better concert to open the official season of the Sydney Symphony Orchestra with Chief Conductor David Robertson at the helm, than one featuring Maxim Vengerov as the guest soloist in Johannes Brahms' Violin Concerto in D major. The composition of this work was greatly influenced by the close personal relationship and professional advice of the outstanding Hungarian violinist, Joseph Joachim. Some violinists probably regret this; even the famous virtuoso Henryk Wieniawski called it outright ‘unplayable’.
The extreme technical difficulties of the piece may be in part due to Joachim’s famously large hands, which inspired the composer to write several strenuous stretches for the left hand. At the same time, showy virtuoso athletics – both common and expected in 19th-century concertos – are almost completely absent from this work. Unusually, the solo part repeatedly includes intricate accompanying figures, rather than the main theme, nowhere as much as in the slow movement, where the composer offered the haunting theme to the first oboe and later to the orchestra, but never to the soloist.
Such a work suits Vengerov’s artistic personality to a tee. He does not seem to care much about flashy fireworks, notwithstanding the fact that he is more than capable of performing them. While the Brahms Concerto is often presented as a fierce effort to conquer its relentless contrapuntal challenges and technical difficulties, Vengerov’s artistic attitude is unassuming, rather than fierce. He exerts no visible effort, but gives the listener a highly personal reading of what the work means to him. Bar after bar, he presents the unfolding melodies with the elated, almost naive pleasure of a child opening his Christmas presents.
His flawless bowing guarantees the immaculate connection between notes, bars and phrases; it also makes the softest pianissimos ring out clearly and articulately. This caused an occasional lack of balance, as the accompanying orchestra was not always able to remain on par with that sound quality on several occasions. The problem, at least in part, could have been solved by simply using a smaller orchestra. Arguably, 24 violins (and matching numbers in the other string sections) is too large a group to effectively emulate the variety of dynamics that an artist of Vengerov’s magnitude employs, without concessions to orchestral sonorities.
When it was the soloist’s turn to accompany the orchestral melodies, for example, in the extended triplet passages of the first movement, Vengerov never lost control of the flow of his finely shaped line and clearly remained part of the musical structure without ever overstating his role. Melancholy and autumnal feelings characterised his contribution to the second movement and the last movement’s mood was appropriately playful (Allegro giocoso, says the tempo instruction) rather than heroic, as it is sometimes performed.