BBCSSO: The Shostakovich Piano Concertos
City Halls, Glasgow - 07/12/23
Martyn Brabbins, conductor | Federico Colli, piano | Matilda Lloyd, trumpet
“Escape into Unrestrained Joy” – few who travelled to Glasgow’s City Halls through the apocalyptic weather of the 7th December could have been in need of anything less than musical escapism, and the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra under guest conductor Martyn Brabbins (replacing at short notice Sir Mark Elder, who was indisposed) served up a cordon bleu menu of undiluted optimism. The headline act, Italian pianist Federico Colli, did for the two Shostakovich concerti what Yuja Wang did for Ravel’s jazzy pair at this year’s Edinburgh Festival, playing both in one concert. The program closed with the First Concerto, for piano, trumpet and strings, for which young award-winning English trumpeter Matilda Lloyd joined the solo line-up. The second half of the concert opened with parts I and III from Debussy’s evocative trilogy, Images pour orchestre, while the longer middle piece Ibéria, itself a trilogy, opened the concert. The concert was broadcast live on Radio 3 and introduced in the hall and on air by Kate Molleson.
Whilst wishing Sir Mark a speedy recovery, I feel it is important to state that the change of conductor was no privation. Martyn has had a long association with music in Scotland and the BBCSSO in particular, from when he was their Associate Principal Conductor between 1994 and 2005. As Professor of Conducting at the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland, he is nurturing emerging conducting talent through their Masters’ programme (perhaps this is partly why he was in town already and was in possession of a ticket to attend in the audience before receiving the call). When one recalls that his own conducting studies were at the Leningrad Conservatory, one can easily see why he has an affinity with Russian music and Shostakovich in particular. One of the least visually balletic conductors, he gives the impression of a radiant kindliness – whatever the case, orchestras play their hearts out for him. Just over a year ago, he had me in tears twice in one BBCSSO programme with Strauss’ Four Last Songs and Vaughan Williams 5, in a programme that started with a stunning Sibelius Tapiola. This June, his reading of Shostakovich 11 with the BBCSSO augmented by 14 young players from the Conservatoire was unforgettable, in a programme which also featured one of his conducting students. A month later in Perth, he conducted a marvellously eclectic programme with Symphony Orchestra of the National Youth Orchestras of Scotland, concluding with a scorching Elgar Alassio. Followers of the music news will be aware that in October, he resigned as Music Director of English National Opera in protest over the defunding, cuts and relocation that are being imposed on the London-based company, whose 1979 Jonathan Miller ‘La Bohème’ (in English) was the first live grand opera I ever attended. Martyn Brabbins is always welcome in Scotland, and especially in Glasgow.
The 3 movements of ‘Ibéria’ showcase Debussy’s gift for orchestral colour and the painting of sonic pictures, and Martyn drew the fullest expression of these elements from a BBCSSO on top form, still led by Associate Leader Kanako Ito. ‘Par les rues at par les chemins’ evoked the vibrant buzz of urban and rural scenes with castanets and tambourine, infectious dance rhythms and great writing for everybody, especially horns and strings. ‘Les parfums de la nuit’ was sultry and sensuous, with great celeste playing, as seductively French as it was stylishly Spanish. This ran straight into ‘Le matin d’un jour de fête’, giddily and riotously festive indeed, with violins being held and strummed like guitars, a hilarious drunken solo from Kanako, and finishing with whoops on the horns. Good clean fun and a great concert opener.
Shostakovich’s 1957 Second Piano Concerto, written as a piece for his son Maxim to perform when graduating from a Music College, sometimes comes across as light music, and it certainly has an enduring popularity, but it has hidden depths too. Federico Colli brought a freshness to its breezy sardonic march-like opening movement, while the F-major interplay between soloist and orchestra was both witty and dramatic, not least in the thrilling climax with a dramatic pause before launching into the cadenza. The wistful melancholy of the muted string introduction to the Andante was delicious, while the piano’s major-key Romance melody was touchingly beautiful, as if offering solace. Instead, the piano adopts the strings’ minor-key melody and they weep together. This was pretty well perfect. A repeated note is speeded up to launch the finale, where the humour and mischief is restored, with lots of glittering rapid phrases in the upper octaves of the piano, a hilarious ‘dropped stitch’ 7/8 melody and a cheeky set of rising arpeggio and descending scale finger exercises sewn into the music, probably a father-son in-joke. The jubilant coda caps the mirthful polka-like romp with rich horn chords and 17 crescendo semiquavers on the timpani. Federico’s playing was agile and characterful, and the mood of shared mirth was allowed to reign. Shostakovich’s Second Piano Concerto never fails to lift the spirits.
The atmospheric opening of ‘Gigues’, the first part of Debussy’s ‘Images’, featured some lovely writing for trumpets, flute, horn and celeste and then an exotic solo for oboe d’amore. The playing was superb, not least because Martyn seemed to allow a freedom with phrasing that made it seem quasi-improvisatory, pointing to a very special relationship between conductor and orchestra. The jig rhythm asserted itself and the cheeky inclusion of ‘Keel Row’ in the melody raised a few smiles before the lively street scene slid back into siesta time. The orchestration of last part, ‘Rondes de printemps’, left us in no doubt that it was by the same composer as ‘La mer’, with a cheery triple-time dance and lots of evocative episodes. Great sonic picture painting as before.
Shostakovich’s 1933 First Concerto inhabits a very different sound world to the Second. Scored for piano, trumpet and strings and written for himself to perform, it has a chamber feel and the playing matched this wonderfully. The outer movements are episodic collages which flip mercurially between passages of neo-classicism and 1920s vaudeville irreverence, with every semblance of sincerity debunked by mockery. The similarity of the piano part to an improvised 1920s silent movie accompaniment is not accidental, as Shostakovich had worked as a cinema pianist in Leningrad while at the Leningrad Conservatoire. Only in the slow movement is there any semblance of emotional depth. The two soloists are variously partners in crime, ribald banterers, sympathetic confidants and attention-seeking competitors, while the ripieni strings do their best to keep up with the mayhem. It is perhaps not remarkable that the pianist who won the 2011 Salzburg Mozart Competition and the trumpeter who is an Education Ambassador of the London Mozart Players would display a large degree of artistic rapport, but so it definitely was. Both are clearly highly intelligent and innovative performers and bring an equal freshness, immediacy and sensitivity to the interpretation. I found the first movement immensely entertaining with deliciously expressive phrasing and rubato from the piano, delightful pizzicato from the 4 double basses and some soulful playing from the violas. The slow movement is a troubled melancholy nocturnal reverie, with warm muted string playing underlying an increasingly agitated piano. After the climax, I am accustomed to hearing the dejected thumps in the left hand played with sustain – Federico played them damped; to my ear infinitely more dramatic, like a head being banged against a wall in frustration, leaving me wondering why nobody else seems to have thought of that. The strings reach out tenderly, but it is the muted trumpet solo reprise of the movement’s melancholy opening melody that consoles the distraught piano, and the duet which follows was surpassingly beautiful. It is Matilda’s solo and the close of the slow movement that has remained in my mind as the highlight of an evening of great music-making. The finale starts with a meditative Moderato bridge that seems as if it’s going to be on its best behaviour and finally achieve some neo-classical gravitas, but of course it doesn’t last. The finale is even more episodically irreverent than the first movement. Hilarious hi-jinks with the soloists lead to a romp which collapses to an abortive fugue with strings and piano. Matilda’s vaudeville solo drinking-song (which begs for rude lyrics and receives a dismissive discordant thump from the piano) was absolutely hilarious, as was the chaotic breakneck piano cadenza which followed (almost as fast as Shostakovich himself played it) and the drunken coda. Delightful madness, prompting the uproarious applause for which Glasgow audiences are renowned.