Mikhail Fikhtengolts. Perfect chicken

Perfect chicken
An authentic "18th century orchestra" visited Moscow and St. Petersburg

Mikhail Fikhtengolts

Date of publication: September 28, 2000

In the "Orchestra of the 18th Century" all the musicians play ancient instruments or their exact copies made by the best modern masters. The repertoire framework of the group is strictly defined - from Bach to Mendelssohn , which, however, does not constrain its members in any way, because they play all the music that comes into their field of vision with fantastic quality. The Moscow program of the "Orchestra of the 18th Century" included all three Viennese classics - Haydn , Mozart and Beethoven - and the public had to find out who he preferred.

Communism reigns in the orchestra; all its participants - from the conductor to the timpanist - receive the same fee. Since Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands does not really like music, there is no threat of state support for this illustrious group, and they don’t really need it - they are quite happy with their own income. For them, there is no such thing as a routine: the musicians get together three or four times a year to tour, and then disperse again to meet again.

The main competitors of the 18th Century Orchestra live in Great Britain. However, on the other side of the English Channel, on the European continent, he has almost no rivals. Even in his native Holland, the birthplace of authenticism, everything is quiet and calm - the main opponent, the Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra of Ton Koopman, deals mainly with oratorio genres. Therefore, the “Orchestra of the 18th Century” can safely polish its skills and achieve ensemble coherence. It’s the feeling of the ensemble that kills you on the spot. It is difficult to understand how thirty people can breathe together, and taking into account the fact that the musicians prepare the program for the next tour on average in a week, it is simply impossible. But no matter what they play, good manners, moderation of emotions and one hundred percent quality are always at the forefront. Therefore, to some their playing will seem emasculated and insensitive, while others will simply enjoy the impeccable sound.

This time the musicians set off on the road without their chief conductor, the gray-haired Franz Brüggen, on whose initiative they first gathered in 1981. It was decided that Thomas Zeetmayr, one of the most famous authentic violinists who constantly collaborates with the orchestra, should take the conductor's stand. As a starting point, he chose Haydn's Eighty-third Symphony , which received the awkward nickname "Chicken" from the composer's fans. Actually, there is nothing from the clumsy chicken in the symphony, except for the “clucking” final theme of the first movement. Otherwise, it is absolutely classical, and the orchestra scored it in full accordance with classical canons - an exemplary performance, to be sure. Even too exemplary for an unsightly bird.

The well-fried "Chicken" gave way to the drama of human feelings - Mozart's Sinfonia Concertante for violin and viola , one of the most charming and heartfelt opuses of the Viennese genius. Thomas Zeetmayr took up the violin and was joined by violist Ruth Killius. The duet was good, but nothing more - in any case, it did not shake in the eyes of Muscovites the authority of the crown soloists of the Symphony Concertante, Viktor Tretyakov and Yuri Bashmet , who impart great depth and lyricism to the opus (when, naturally, they are in good shape).

Beethoven, with his Seventh Symphony, left his predecessors far behind. There was melodic expanse, the recklessness of folk dance, and juicy, well-maintained pauses, perfect in their beauty, like holes in Dutch cheese. The famous funeral march, freed from the hysterical romantic pathos, turned into a wonderful mezzotint, without losing its concentrated grief. And in the finale, the orchestra seemed to have surpassed itself, splashing out such a charge of energy into the hall that even the dull acoustics of the Tchaikovsky Concert Hall temporarily disappeared somewhere, leaving room for a riot of orchestral colors.