What’s in a name? The man officially known in Soviet circles as Moisey Vainberg (and sometimes Wajnberg) until 1982, was then rehabilitated as Mieczysław Weinberg. An orchestra established in Paris in 1937 under the name of Orchestre Radio-Symphonique, became Orchestre Philharmonique de L’ORTF in 1964 and then Nouvel Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France in 1976, before dropping the "Nouvel" thirteen years later. Not to be confused with Orchestre National de France, founded in 1934 and also administered by French radio. (Keeping up at the back, are we?) Mikko Franck, one of the many stars in Finland’s conducting firmament, has been its music director since 2015.
By far the most intriguing work that Franck and his French musicians brought with them on their first visit to the Elbphilharmonie was Weinberg’s Cello Concerto in C Minor. This composer’s music is enjoying something of a renaissance (and there are 154 opus numbers to explore), and on the basis of this performance by Sol Gabetta it is easy to see why. In the opening movement there is a haunting melancholy that goes straight to the heart. When it is played with the kind of rapt restraint exercised here, you know that there will be no empty gestures, no overstated mawkishness, but simply the expression of basic existential sadness. The second movement is more obviously Jewish in influence, with klezmer elements provided by bright-voiced trumpets. Though Franck was diligent in the way he supported Gabetta, I had no sense that he was quite matching the conviction of her playing. There is a degree of earthiness in the orchestral writing, which was insufficiently realised here. In the final movement that follows on from an extended cadenza, powerfully delivered by Gabetta, the influence of Shostakovich, who befriended Weinberg, is most evident. Interestingly, it is the jocular mood characteristic of that composer’s ninth symphony which is more to the fore – written three years before Weinberg set out to compose his C minor concerto.
Why The Sorcerer's Apprentice was deemed a suitable pairing for the first half I find hard to conceive. Moreover, this appeared to be very much a Finnish view of what the sorcerer’s apprentice does with his master’s broomstick: outside in the crisp northern air, under a cloudless sky with temperatures close to freezing, each of the orchestral textures picked out almost clinically, like a gloved waste disposal operative deploying a long grabbing tool. Admittedly, the acoustics in this hall are tricky. However, there was little sense of mystery or dramatic anticipation, and when the heat should have been turned up, not much awareness either of the blind panic the apprentice himself must have faced after his self-inflicted misfortune. To me this sounded more like Dukas re-imagined by Ravel.