Stream: RSNO - Grieg’s Peer Gynt Suite
This was an intriguing concert featuring two immensely famous pieces by the Norwegian composer Edvard Grieg, and it is perhaps their renown which make them so interesting. Known as a distinguished miniaturist, responsible for many small-scale piano works and songs, the world-wide fame and lasting popularity of these two works is both extraordinary and understandable. Both are inspired by the folk songs of Norway, and Grieg’s association with the rugged landscapes of his native land is immediately clear. His love of Norwegian history and his inspiration both of and by the contemporary clamour for a distinctive culture of a country that had been ruled for centuries by Sweden and Denmark, reveals itself as a huge part of his creative genius.
Yet, bizarrely, he was descended from a Scottish family. His great grandfather, Alexander Greig, after the debacle of the ‘45 and Culloden, had travelled extensively, and in 1770, had settled in Bergen.
By Edvard’s time, the family name had been changed to Grieg, and his father was a successful merchant in the city, as well as the British Vice Consul. His mother was a music teacher and was his own first teacher; the young man’s talents were recognised quite early on, as he was sent to study at the Leipzig Conservatory, a prestigious music school at the heart of middle European culture. After Leipzig, he went to Copenhagen, where, in 1869, his Piano Concerto was premiered, although Grieg himself was not present, as he had a conducting engagement in Oslo (then known as Christiania). The great success of the concerto led to further travels, and in 1870, he met Franz Liszt in Rome, where the older composer declared himself to be an admirer. Back in Norway, he was asked by the great writer Henrik Ibsen, to compose incidental music for his strange play “Peer Gynt”, which was premiered in Christiania in 1876. The play, based loosely on a Norwegian fairy tale about the wanderings of the titular Peer from Norway to the North African desert and back, was written in Danish, and mixes fantasy with satire, reality and surreality.
I saw an English language version many years ago at St Andrews University, with, as Peer, my old school friend Robert Frost, who is now a distinguished Professor of History at Aberdeen University. I remember a rambling story full of short scenes, ranging over many places and timescales, and recall coming out of the theatre bewildered but oddly moved. Grieg apparently found the whole project deeply frustrating, but encouraged by Ibsen’s generosity, composed some wonderfully evocative music.
In this concert, the Piano Concerto was framed by the two orchestral suites that Grieg published, but in reverse order. This allows the last piece to be the thrilling ‘In the Hall of the Mountain King’, which conjures up visions of a huge hall cut inside a mountain, full of trolls and goblins. In fact, the scene in Tolkien’s ‘The Hobbit’, when Bilbo and the dwarves are captured by goblins and taken before the Goblin King (voiced amusingly by Barry Humphries in the film version) is surely inspired by this scene in Peer Gynt.
For the piano concerto, the RSNO had engaged the English pianist Paul Lewis, and it was splendid to see him playing right in the heart of the orchestra, whereas he would normally have been located in front of the violins. You felt that the interplay of soloist and orchestra was real and vibrant, and Mr Lewis gave a sparkling account of this very famous piece.
It is astounding to realise that the hugely funny version of the start of the concerto, featuring Andre Previn and Morecambe and Wise, was first broadcast 50 years ago this Christmas. “You’re playing all the wrong notes!” splutters Previn. “Listen, sunshine. I’m playing all the right notes, but not necessarily in the right order!!” replies Eric. One of the great sketches!
Fortunately, Mr Lewis played all the right notes and in the right order, but I wished some of the joy of the Morecambe and Wise show had been more to the fore in this concert. Ed Gardner, replacing the unavailable Cornelius Meister, whose conducting I so enjoyed in the last Beethoven concert I reviewed, is a fine maestro, and is indeed Principal Conductor of the Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra, in Grieg’s own city, but I must admit to finding his conducting and general demeanour rather lacking in passion and verve. He seemed terribly serious in front of the orchestra, almost forbidding, and although there is nothing funny about the actual concerto, I longed for more warmth to relieve the Scandinavian chill. Conductor and pianist had played this same concerto in the Usher Hall at the Edinburgh Festival in 2017, and obviously know it very well, with a good rapport between soloist and orchestra. The concerto is clearly inspired by the folk music of Norway, and Mr Lewis brought out all the nuances and subtleties of the piano part while also playing this difficult concerto with thrilling virtuosity. From the bravura opening, through the beautiful tenderness of the adagio, to the stirring excitement of the final movement, he was in total command of the splendid Steinway piano at his disposal. The RSNO woodwind players, in particular, found a lovely variety of sounds to caress our ears, and it is one of the great advantages of this digital season that we can watch them in close-up as they show their skill and talent in the service of such fine music.
I would be interested to know what the players themselves think of this experience. I know that, generally, orchestral musicians quite enjoy the anonymity of the collective entity, rather than showing off in public, and the very intimate camera work here might be somewhat frightening. I hope they can take pride in the new feeling of being very much solo players on show in a bigger ensemble. Certainly, I enjoyed watching how the various players moved and reacted when playing, and, from a viewer’s point of view, it was fascinating.
The outer parts of the sandwich of which the piano concerto was the meat (vegetarian options are also allowed) were the two orchestral Suites from Peer Gynt. I don’t think it is particularly important to know what the various scenes in the play represent, as the music is separate from the action here, but I have always been fascinated that the first movement of the First Suite, Morning Mood, which conjures up for me tranquil Norwegian fjords cutting through majestic mountains, was actually composed for a scene in the bare aridity of the Moroccan desert. Somehow, this movement in particular has a Nordic glow to it, a feeling of ethereal calm at the break of day. Whatever, the origin, it is one of the great melodies of Classical music and the RSNO played it beautifully. Again though, I missed the inner warmth of the morning sun in Mr Gardner’s interpretation, and this was my main problem with the performance. The calm, tranquil music seemed lacking in feeling, while the hard rhythms of the faster music felt to me too metronomic.
The concert began with the movement, the Abduction of the Bride, when Peer interrupts a marriage and carries off the bride, Ingrid. She laments her fate, in a beautiful melody. Soon we are transported to North Africa, where Grieg conjures up a wonderful Arabic sound, starting with flute and piccolo, in a movement called Arabian Dance. It’s amusing to recall one of the previous concerts I reviewed this season, when we heard Mozart’s Overture to his opera ‘The Abduction from the Seraglio’ and the final movement of his Violin Concerto, both of which contain strong interpretations of Turkish music. Here Grieg involves percussion instruments, like the tambourine, to take us off to the mysterious Orient. In the play, Peer returns to his homeland and to his faithful Solveig, who has waited years for him, and she sings the very beautiful melody known as Solveig’s Song. In the incidental music, there are words, but in the Suite, only wisps of song remain as Peer is lulled to death, maybe, or rest at least. Nothing is clear in the play.
Following the piano concerto, we are taken right back into the suite from the play, with Morning Mood casting its spell. After two dance-inspired movements, the concert ends with the mesmeric ‘In the Hall of the Mountain King’, as the music, starting slow and pizzicato, gradually develops and accelerates into a wild whirling climax with full brass and drums. In the incidental music, there is a huge chorus of goblins at the climactic point but there is no need for that here, as the orchestra takes us deep into the mountain.
I have a recording of the music in the context of the play, which is very interesting, but there is a limit to the amount of declamatory Danish a non-speaker can cope with. Grieg was very clever to have created these two suites, which have rightly come down to us as the most famous Norwegian music of all.
I thoroughly enjoyed this concert and would recommend it to any of our readers. The playing is uniformly excellent.
Available to stream until Sunday 14th March 2021.
