Saturday, November 29, 2003
Voila!
Today’s entry is not a musical title, but an expression of happiness that I get to listen to my beloved Brahms and darling old Sibelius! I have borrowed the score of the Sibelius Symphony No. 2, and wanted to bring along my photocopied version of the Brahms Piano Concerto No. 1 for Giovanni Bellucci to sign, but decided against it at the last moment in case he pressed me for piracy charges.
I was prepared for a nightmarish session, especially having heard about the horrendous playing from the Singapore Symphony Orchestra of the Beethoven Fifth Symphony, which left people “cringing” away. The lucky survivors managed to pull out during the interval before this great catastrophe.
Today’s pianist was Artur Pizarro, who was replacement for Bellucci who, for some reason or another, couldn’t make it. The conductor was Estonian Eri Klas. The ensemble… need I say more?
Brahms I started the programme. Jonathan Fox at the timpani was powerful… if a little too powerful. His crescendo was too much during the statement of the first subject theme at the orchestral ritornello – that’s how I feel. He played it like a roll of thunder, but it was good.
The strings… I have to comment that for most of the time they played like synthetic keyboards; might as well get rid the whole lot of them and get one keyboardist to play their parts on an electronic keyboard. Saves the money too. You don’t get a warm and rich tone, or a hard and biting tone. Instead, you get a stale one; an electronic one.
First movement wasn’t really exciting; neither was the second. The horns, I have to say, went out of tune. The first time was during the second subject theme in the first movement. After that I was crossing fingers that they wouldn’t screw up again. They did. At the end of the second movement, where everything was so beautifully silent… then… blah! The horn shot out an inaccurate note that sent the hairs on the back of my neck standing.
Pizarro… he was nothing but the hero! Yes, the hero! His playing style is suave. At the end of his passage he lets his hands fly up and off the keyboard like nobody’s business. He plays from a score, but as I read in an old International Piano Festival brochure in which he participated, the score was to “free him from having to memorise the score and enable him to focus on his interpretation”. At the end of the second movement, when the orchestra finished up the last section, Pizarro took his hands off the keyboard and crouched at the piano. Yes, and I mean crouch. He looked as if he were suffering from a horrendous stomach ache on the stage.
Third movement. Pizarro suddenly sprang into life again and… gosh… what a shocker! The third movement was damn, damn fast. And he just played… played like he’s got the whole world in his hands. And the orchestra responded just as well: lightning playing. The ending was stunning. I just wanted to fly out of my seat on the last few chords. There was no hesitation for the applause. As soon as the orchestra cleaned off the last held note, the audience burst into applause. I think Pizarro made about five curtain calls.
Interval. Mad rush for the lobby where Pizarro was signing autographs. As he signs: “You must hurry back for the Sibelius! I heard them playing today; it’s very beautiful!” I go back, and pick up my score…
Eri Klas returns; the ensemble was larger now, with trombones and Timmy Buzbee and his tuba. Down the baton went… lush chords from the strings. The Sibelius symphony is really beautiful. The brass could be powerful too, especially Timmy, who blared his tuba till we could all hear from the rafters. The pizzicato at the start of the second movement was beautifully and neatly done. Gerald was exclaiming: “THEY CAN PIZZ!”
The best part was the last movement, which is linked from the third movement. So majestic, hair-raising… the coda was magnificently done. Extremely powerful and moving, especially the final “Amen” cadence. Eri Klas controlled it beautifully. It didn’t sound like elephants stamping across Central Asia (if that is ever possible) but like a firm, re-assuring pat on the back. People yelled “Bravo”. The applause was long.
Now I don’t know if I can ever put my faith in the SSO: sometimes it plays well, at times it doesn’t. The SSO screwed up the first two movements of the Brahms, but Pizarro saved it in the third. The ensemble redeemed itself in the Sibelius, and entrenched the work as one of the favourites. I never forgot the Sibelius: I was studying the score on the bus journey home, effectively ignoring the irritating TV Mobile. ¶ 11/29/2003 02:59:00 pm
Today’s entry is not a musical title, but an expression of happiness that I get to listen to my beloved Brahms and darling old Sibelius! I have borrowed the score of the Sibelius Symphony No. 2, and wanted to bring along my photocopied version of the Brahms Piano Concerto No. 1 for Giovanni Bellucci to sign, but decided against it at the last moment in case he pressed me for piracy charges.
I was prepared for a nightmarish session, especially having heard about the horrendous playing from the Singapore Symphony Orchestra of the Beethoven Fifth Symphony, which left people “cringing” away. The lucky survivors managed to pull out during the interval before this great catastrophe.
Today’s pianist was Artur Pizarro, who was replacement for Bellucci who, for some reason or another, couldn’t make it. The conductor was Estonian Eri Klas. The ensemble… need I say more?
Brahms I started the programme. Jonathan Fox at the timpani was powerful… if a little too powerful. His crescendo was too much during the statement of the first subject theme at the orchestral ritornello – that’s how I feel. He played it like a roll of thunder, but it was good.
The strings… I have to comment that for most of the time they played like synthetic keyboards; might as well get rid the whole lot of them and get one keyboardist to play their parts on an electronic keyboard. Saves the money too. You don’t get a warm and rich tone, or a hard and biting tone. Instead, you get a stale one; an electronic one.
First movement wasn’t really exciting; neither was the second. The horns, I have to say, went out of tune. The first time was during the second subject theme in the first movement. After that I was crossing fingers that they wouldn’t screw up again. They did. At the end of the second movement, where everything was so beautifully silent… then… blah! The horn shot out an inaccurate note that sent the hairs on the back of my neck standing.
Pizarro… he was nothing but the hero! Yes, the hero! His playing style is suave. At the end of his passage he lets his hands fly up and off the keyboard like nobody’s business. He plays from a score, but as I read in an old International Piano Festival brochure in which he participated, the score was to “free him from having to memorise the score and enable him to focus on his interpretation”. At the end of the second movement, when the orchestra finished up the last section, Pizarro took his hands off the keyboard and crouched at the piano. Yes, and I mean crouch. He looked as if he were suffering from a horrendous stomach ache on the stage.
Third movement. Pizarro suddenly sprang into life again and… gosh… what a shocker! The third movement was damn, damn fast. And he just played… played like he’s got the whole world in his hands. And the orchestra responded just as well: lightning playing. The ending was stunning. I just wanted to fly out of my seat on the last few chords. There was no hesitation for the applause. As soon as the orchestra cleaned off the last held note, the audience burst into applause. I think Pizarro made about five curtain calls.
Interval. Mad rush for the lobby where Pizarro was signing autographs. As he signs: “You must hurry back for the Sibelius! I heard them playing today; it’s very beautiful!” I go back, and pick up my score…
Eri Klas returns; the ensemble was larger now, with trombones and Timmy Buzbee and his tuba. Down the baton went… lush chords from the strings. The Sibelius symphony is really beautiful. The brass could be powerful too, especially Timmy, who blared his tuba till we could all hear from the rafters. The pizzicato at the start of the second movement was beautifully and neatly done. Gerald was exclaiming: “THEY CAN PIZZ!”
The best part was the last movement, which is linked from the third movement. So majestic, hair-raising… the coda was magnificently done. Extremely powerful and moving, especially the final “Amen” cadence. Eri Klas controlled it beautifully. It didn’t sound like elephants stamping across Central Asia (if that is ever possible) but like a firm, re-assuring pat on the back. People yelled “Bravo”. The applause was long.
Now I don’t know if I can ever put my faith in the SSO: sometimes it plays well, at times it doesn’t. The SSO screwed up the first two movements of the Brahms, but Pizarro saved it in the third. The ensemble redeemed itself in the Sibelius, and entrenched the work as one of the favourites. I never forgot the Sibelius: I was studying the score on the bus journey home, effectively ignoring the irritating TV Mobile. ¶ 11/29/2003 02:59:00 pm
