It had been a while since I left a concert feeling like I had been punched in the heart, but Monday night's concert of Rachmaninov, Brahms and Bjarnason brought such high intensity and emotion that I couldn't help but be blown away. The Los Angeles Philharmonic, conducted by Gustavo Dudamel and joined by Yuja Wang as piano soloist, demonstrated dramatic tempi and searing emotion throughout their program. For every inexactitude or minor flaw in the playing, there were countless moments of galvanizing musicality. For every surge in speed, there were contrasting passages with calmer, slower speeds. The wide range in tempo and mood, combined with the overall energy of the performers, was impressive enough to leave me stunned.
The opening piece, though only ten minutes long, managed to encompass a wide range in sounds and textures. Daniel Bjarnason’s Blow bright, composed last year, was engaging the whole way through. From the twinkling percussion and lilting violins, to the mystical flute and the strings dripping chords like candlewax, this piece was an assortment of fascinating sounds. But even more fascinating was the manner in which, with Mr. Dudamel’s exact conducting, the musicians created a sense of movement from these sounds. The orchestra swept us through the closing harmonies, reminding me of a ship sailing through turbulent seas. Not surprisingly, Mr. Bjarnason says in the program notes that “one of the things I thought about was the ocean.”
I was nervous about the next piece, Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto no. 3 in D minor. This was my go-to recording through high school and college, through times of teen angst or during all-nighters spent churning out an essay on which I had procrastinated. Having heard other interpretations hundreds of times on my iPod, it was with some trepidation that I prepared myself for Ms. Wang’s take on the work. I needn’t have worried. If at first I was on the edge of my seat due to high expectations, by the end I was on the edge of it from sheer excitement. Afterwards, I collapsed against the back of my seat from exhaustion, feeling as if I had just spent 45 minutes engaged in strenuous exercise rather than watching a piano concerto.