BBCSSO: Chopin Piano Concerto No.1

City Halls, Glasgow - 27/10/22

After a three-week gap, the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra returned to the City Halls, with a programme billed as Lyrical Captivating Romantic Chopin, on 27th October. The soloist in the headline work was to have been Zlata Chochleva, under the direction of Joana Carneiro.  In the event, both were indisposed and the concert was conducted by Tito Muñoz, with American compatriot and winner of the 2018 Leeds Piano Competition, Eric Lu, as soloist.  The concert was broadcast live on Radio 3 and was introduced by Kate Molleson, using a handheld microphone and two on-stage speakers, about which more later.

The concert opened with Anna Clyne’s 2018 piece, ‘This Midnight Hour’, an exciting, compelling, filmic work in the style of a symphonic poem, evocative of imagery of Hallowe’en, horror movie chase scenes, brief respites in concealment then breaking cover, a tortuous climb, a macabre waltz and a wealth of other images of nocturnal dread, all evoked with tonally approachable music and skilfully orchestrated.  The punchy rapid running of the lower strings which opens the piece and recurs throughout is particularly memorable, as is brass chorale writing, soloistic episodes for all the winds, and the eerie sound of vibraphone and that of two muted trumpets near the end, playing from the two sides of the choir balcony.  This is a great piece and a super concert-opener, not to mention a great showpiece for orchestral virtuosity.

Chopin’s First Piano Concerto is indeed lyrical, captivating and romantic.  Dating from 1830, it is conventional in form, but in terms of melodic and harmonic inventiveness and exploitation of the expressive potential of the first true musical instrument to emerge from the industrial revolution in general and the steel industry in particular, it is revolutionary.  An elegant leisurely tempo choice for the first movement enabled warm string playing in the orchestral introduction.  From the first entry, the piano playing was exquisitely phrased with engaging rubato and expressive dynamics.  The orchestral accompaniment was robust but never excessive.  Particularly magical was the return of the second subject near the end of the movement with subtle dynamics and teasing rubato.  Also impressive was the clarity of the texture from both soloist and orchestra, in playing that was always mutually responsive.  The simple melody of the Larghetto was meltingly beautiful and the movement was characterised by a gentle ebb and flow, with climaxes and cascades in the solo part, beautifully pointed with limpid clarity in the ornamentation.  After a positive opening, the Krakowiak rondo danced gleefully, the episodes suffused with charm, while the cheeky key changes were beautifully pointed with little rallentandi, concluding with a coda that was truly delicious.  This was my first live hearing of Eric Lu’s playing and I eagerly await the next opportunity.  I thirst to hear his Brahms (hint!).  Either would do.

If the concert-opener was a 21st-century orchestral showpiece, the work after the interval, Bartok’s Concerto for Orchestra, is undoubtedly a larger-scale 20th-century epitome of the same genre, a great personal favourite and, of course, eagerly awaited.  Before the baton was raised, however, I became aware that the speakers at the sides of the stage were not silent, but emitting a very intrusive mains hum, which continued through the second half of the concert.  Sound engineering at the BBC is justly famed for its excellence, so this oversight is as inexplicable as it was regrettable.  It undeniably marred the quieter passages in the music, even if it was of course masked by the louder moments.  It is testimony to the quality of the performance that, despite this technological faux pas, it was memorable for all the right reasons.  The most salient of these reasons was the extraordinary clarity of the texture of the orchestral sound, achieved through subtle control of tempi and dynamic balance, allowing the detail to be appreciated and enjoyed.

The atmospheric Andante introduction was eerily mysterious, while the Allegro was graced with characterful playing and fabulous tone from all sections playing as many-headed soloists, most notably and impressively the fugato brass episode.  The whimsical Gioco della copie, with its multiple pairings of instrumental voices in parallel fixed intervals was delightful, with again the central brass chorale section shining magnificently.  The eerie nocturnal Elegia was mysterious and sepulchral, with lovely rippling clarinet figures, some passionate string playing, and a deliciously melancholy trope from the violas playing their hearts out.  The hilarious Intermezzo interrotto, with its savage parodic roasting of the ostinato from the first movement of Shostakovich’s Leningrad Symphony, was as funny as ever.  But it was in the Finale that the real strengths of Tito Muñoz’s interpretation became most patent.  So many conductors see the Presto marking as an exhortation to breakneck speed, which is exciting, yes, but at the expense of so much of the glorious melodic, harmonic and contrapuntal detail in Bartok’s writing.  In this performance (which was not in any sense slow, but rather controlled), I heard details that had escaped my attention before, making sense of formerly puzzling features, such as the closing pages just before the final triumphant bars, where the music, apparently lost in the miasma, claws its way back into harmonic integrity.  Purely through control of the dynamic balance, the subtle adjustments in the harmonic structure became apparent and it all made sense.

So, in conclusion, this was a super concert and another triumph for our BBCSSO under expert direction.  So much so, that I can overlook the relegation of our beloved double basses down from up the back of the stage to their traditional home behind the cellos.  Ah well, we can’t have everything.