| The appearance of Vladimir Ashkenazy with the London Philharmonic Orchestra was accompanied by unexpected intrigue The concert of the Philharmonic Orchestra (one of the five London orchestral celebrities) with Vladimir Ashkenazy as conductor and soloist became an event from the series of “world stars at above-market prices.” The new Moscow elite, able to buy tickets to the Great Hall of the Conservatory for 300-400 dollars (for a gallery - from 50 dollars), has been occasionally fed world-class art for about ten years now. The same Ashkenazi came with the German Symphony Orchestra. But no matter how much you feed this new audience, they are still not able to turn off their mobile phones, cure bronchitis and not get into their heads during a concert.
The extreme high cost of tickets, due to the high cost of the orchestra, aroused wide non-professional interest, although the program had a couple of intrigues for the sophisticated public. As is usual in such cases, the concert organizer, the Rosinterfest company, resorted to the services of a rude security unit, which is why there was a terrible crush at the entrance to the building with children crying and screams of torn to pieces, which gave the event a not very pleasant appearance.
“This concert appeared on our schedule not so long ago, so I could not offer the orchestra to learn a new large repertoire. I wanted to play something Russian, but not long. “The Voevoda” by Tchaikovsky is just such music. Sibelius's second symphony, I know, is rarely played here, but I love it very much. My wife and I are Scandinavian. And finally, it was logical to include a Mozart concert in the program.” Commenting on the program, pianist and conductor Vladimir Ashkenazy, perhaps the most successful Russian emigrant on the world market, winner of the Queen Elizabeth (1956) and Tchaikovsky (1962) competitions, Grammy winner (1999), tried not to emphasize his piano participation in the concert. It is known that he really did not want to play the piano in Moscow. Barely persuaded.
In the 90s, Ashkenazy had already conducted in Moscow, so now this laconic 20th Mozart concerto was especially intriguing: for the first time in many years, the Moscow audience could hear live the famous thoroughbred sound and emotionally restrained, constructively clear playing.
But there was no sensational comeback. Ashkenazi played forward, in a metronomic rhythm. The venerable Philharmonic sounded clumsy and dynamically monotonous. So Mozart's crystal minor in its long-awaited and well-publicized presentation seemed like a strange joke, if not a polite favor.
The Ashkenazi pianist is often accused of coldness and naked virtuosity. This is all due to the balance of his designs, crystal sound and aristocratic emotional correctness. Neither at the piano nor at the console, he is not prone to anxiety, nor to excitement, nor to gloomy attacks of doubt. On the other hand, his proportional aesthetic world is alien to defiant rationalism. Ashkenazi has a phenomenal sense of proportion, the ability to hear structure and a sense of sound.
One could count on the main number of the program, Sibelius's Second Symphony, to be made according to this signature recipe. Ashkenazy himself believed that he would bring a rare guest score to Moscow, but then it turned out that two days earlier the symphony would be performed by Mikhail Pletnev, who was returning to the RNO. This coincidence became the main intrigue of Ashkenazi’s tour and an unexpected reason for competition.
“Pletnev? Yes, I think he’s a good conductor,” Ashkenazi answered a question from a columnist for the Vremya Novostei newspaper. - I heard it once in London. He conducted his orchestra quite well. Very economical."
For some reason, Sibelius's 1902 symphony has a reputation as a Nordic-dreamy hymn to the beautiful northern nature with a hint of sleepy sensibility. While she feels much less like a successor to Tchaikovsky, beloved by Sibelius, than a contemporary of Mahler and Richard Strauss.
Neither Pletnev nor Ashkenazy were interested in the interpretation of the symphony as a snowy landscape smoothed by nostalgia. Pletnev, in his favorite manner, analytically dissected her, quietly opened her veins, sending streams of his own piercingly cool emotionality through them. This is why the symphony acquired a scary and extremely expressive artificiality. RNO, which again sounded with the grace that was characteristic of it three years ago, although it was not successful in everything, pleased with its exquisite timbral multidimensionality.
Unlike the Moscow orchestra, the London Philharmonic loves thick, matte and massive sounds. And Vladimir Ashkenazy, unlike Pletnev, seems to be a master, capable of so deftly and imperceptibly adding an intellectual base to the score that it will ultimately disarm it with an organic element that is brilliant to the point of naivety. But either the weight of the orchestra turned out to be too great, or the master of dense colors and radiant proportions, Ashkenazi the conductor, still did not calculate the jerk. Until the onset of the Finale, he stubbornly lifted the orchestral weight, hypnotized with the standing brass, took a virtuoso tempo in the Scherzo, which the orchestra handled without grace, and in the last movement, at the limit of his strength, seemed to fix the bar. But no. I had to quit. The next climax did not so much appeal to high heavens and low earths as it confused with its hypertrophied brilliance. Perhaps the logic invented by Ashkenazy did not suit the orchestra very well with its chopped group balance, beautifully massive strings and immodest winds. Or the logic itself did not have the right start. One way or another, Sibelius, definitely luring with a strange combination of rustic rudeness and Mahlerian frenzy, pouted himself as a heroic general. Unlike the colorful "Voevoda" - there was no heroism in the short score, but there was breathing, clear logic, effective sound proportions and organicity.
This time no one won the competition for the right to be called the best interpreter of Sibelius on the Moscow stage, although both versions attracted many things, including perfectionism. But the Second Symphony itself is now not only a hit, but also music without a cloyingly glossy image. Isn't this the result? Yulia BEDEROVA |
|
