After Berg and Bruckner last night, the Vienna Philharmonic and Franz Welser-Möst returned to the BBC Proms with Mozart and Tchaikovsky. Supposedly contrasting the heights of Classicism and Romanticism in symphonic form, the stylistic distinction between the two works was however rather blurred in an exemplary exhibition of elegant restraint and elegance. It almost goes without saying that the Vienna Philharmonic sounded exquisite at all times, the orchestra never knowingly emitting anything uneasy on the ear. But one longed for a greater sense of excitement in the Mozart, and in the Tchaikovsky – well, where was the pain, the anguish, the “Pathétique”?
Following an emphatic entrance to the Prague Symphony’s lengthy introduction, Welser-Möst was the epitome of restrained poise, with razor-sharp ensemble from the offbeat violins, before they fizzed in the Allegro. The bassoons in the minor sections made a beautiful sound, but here one expected a darker edge, which never came. Even the trumpets, when they arrived, were respectful, with no extremes of dynamic allowed from anyone – all very tasteful. Of course, their silkiness came into its own in the Andante, but with Welser-Möst barely conducting at all by the end of the movement, this was so laid-back it felt almost horizontal. The dancing finale, despite impressive agility from the woodwinds (especially once again the bassoons), and skittering violins, there was not much to get the heart racing here, beyond a little more bite from the tremolo strings interrupting the woodwinds.
And so to Tchaikovsky's Sixth, surely one of the most heart-on-sleeve symphonies in the repertoire, regardless of what its hidden programme (which Tchaikovsky himself described as an enigma) is actually about. With its first movement lost love theme, the doubting question at the heart of the second movement’s five-step waltz, and even the Scherzo-march’s thrilling downward scales, this is a symphony with passion and outward expression at its heart (otherwise, the grief-stricken lament of the finale and its subdued ending make little sense).
Here, there was technical brilliance from the strings in the opening Allegro, but that lost love theme was soft-focussed and sinuously smooth, only growing to moderately warm levels of passion. The cellos’ ensemble in the twiddly five-step waltz was effortless, but the darker questioning response needed more angst in the accents. Again, a restrained Welser-Möst was gentle and affirming, with no outward sense of anguish. A slightly skittering opening to the third movement was the first and only moment of fragility in ensemble from the strings, but it was quickly swept away by precision and fine attention to detail from the woodwinds. Welser-Möst kept a lid on things until build to the climax, with violins and woodwinds swirling into the tutti march, one of the evening’s first truly spectacular moments. Thankfully, Welser-Möst held off applause by heading straight into the finale, and beauty once again shone out in the falling lines, but without any real sense of the searing pain inherent in the music. When the violins cry out their lament at the top of their G strings, surely this should be a scream of pain, rather than a sonorous, richly toned lyrical line?
The Vienna Philharmonic’s display of effortless expertise and their gloriously unanimous tone throughout was indeed impressive and a thing of beauty. But though it might seem churlish, it was hard not to feel that this deep wash of perfection obscured the heart of the Tchaikovsky, in particular, and at least a handful of grit in the mix would have better captured the symphony’s “Pathétique” essence.
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