Scottish Chamber Orchestra: Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony
Queen’s Hall - 30/03/23
Maxim Emelyanychev, conductor/fortepiano
The SCO’s Principal Conductor, Maxim Emelyanychev, bounds on to the platform in front of an enthusiastic audience of all ages. He’s just been described as a “force of nature” in violinist Aisling O’Dea’s introduction, and goes on to prove it in a rousing account of Mozart’s overture to ‘The Magic Flute’ in which the forty-four musicians on stage combine a full-blooded sound with precision, and, as always, pointing up passages that we’ve somehow missed before. I once watched ‘The Magic Flute’ from the front row of the stalls and noticed how much the flute had to play. The overture is no exception and flautists Andre Cebrian and Marta Gomez shine in their two mini-solos. It’s all great fun and I’m sure Sarastro wouldn’t have approved, but what a way to start a concert!
When I first heard about Schubert’s ‘Unfinished Symphony’ as a child, I imagined the composer’s pen dropping from his lifeless hand mid-bar and looked forward to hearing this mysterious work in which the orchestra had to come to a sudden halt. The truth, though less dramatic, is musically more interesting. Schubert, on being given an honorary Diploma from the Graz Music Society in 1823, gave them two movements of a symphony which he intended to complete and dedicate to them. He never returned to it and many years after his death, the work was premiered in Vienna in 1865 to an overwhelming reception. David Kettle in his programme notes, (available at sco.org.uk/programmes-notes) speculates that the highly charged music of the ‘Unfinished’, which might have puzzled listeners in 1823, was much more in tune with the Romantic ethos of the 1860s. Other composers have found long-forgotten pieces and finished them later in life, but Schubert’s early death adds another emotional layer to our appreciation of these remarkable two movements.
Three double basses begin the first movement from an unusual position near the back of the stage, behind the first violins and violas, and almost locking antlers with the bassoons in back row. Their grumbling melody is continued in an eerie contribution from the oboe, which is then picked up by the other strings. The horns (natural horns in tonight’s concert) intervene to herald the cheerful second theme introduced by violas and cellos. All too soon this is abruptly stopped by the first stormy episode for full orchestra including trumpets and trombones. This pattern of abrupt shifts of mood continues throughout the first movement. Although the lower strings and brass get the dramatic bits, there are also lovely passages for the flutes and clarinets playing together. The movement concludes with a repetition of the foreboding first theme with the oboe solo preceding the final chords. The second movement is quieter, beginning with a gentle melody for strings, horns and clarinets. This movement’s andante con moto is only a little slower than the first movement’s allegro moderato while the stormy outbursts, though briefer, also help to tie the movements together, and always threaten the even tenor of the main theme. The very quiet playing of the strings, under tonight’s leader, Stephanie Gonley, is a perfect foil for the passages for flute, clarinet and bassoon.
A wonderful first half, exploring and providing fresh insights into well-known works. The second half proves more controversial. We begin with the UK premiere of James MacMillan’s short piece, ‘Eleven’, which is about football. The composer writes, “There are two main eleven note themes and several Scottish melodies which have been appropriated as archetypal football chants.” (Read his full commentary in the programme.) Louise Lewis Goodwin is a one-woman band with drumsticks in one hand and a referee’s whistle round her neck, and she signals the kick-off. It’s a good-humoured piece and not to be taken as a deep critique of our national game – but still presenting musical challenges for the players. Aisling O’Dea points out the furious pace and multiple key changes required of the violins in what Macmillan calls the “energetic moto perpetuo” underlying the ‘Auld Lang Syne’ theme. There’s a “Bravo!” and some appreciative laughter from the audience as the final whistle is blown.
Emelyanychev is the soloist in Mozart’s Piano Concerto No 22, K482, and plays it on a forte-piano, a copy of Mozart’s own instrument. The smallish keyboard is at the centre of the stage and he has his back to the some of the orchestra, though he can swivel to have eye-contact with Stephanie Gonley. He stands or waves his hand in the air to conduct the sections when he’s not playing. Apart from the jaunty theme in the third movement this concerto is not very well-known, and anyone who, like me, listened to it in advance on a modern piano, will find that this performance is entirely different. Fortepiano versions of Mozart are usually played with smaller chamber bands – two dozen players or fewer – and here we gradually become aware of the adjustments which are made to accommodate the smaller sound of the keyboard working with a larger orchestra.
The opening is for full orchestra, which has lost a few winds but is still not far short of forty players. It’s a longish introduction, played with verve, and when the soloist plays a different theme alone, our ears have to adjust. It’s a thinner sound than the modern concert grand and lacks the ability to sustain notes (no “loud pedal”), so in the sections where he’s required to play with other instruments, Maxim uses a smaller string group, consisting of the five string principals. The natural horns are quieter than modern ones, and the reduced woodwind section of flutes, clarinets and bassoons don’t drown the keyboard out either. I think this worked for most of the audience once our ears adjusted. The benefits were the clarity of the fortepiano sound with the lighter accompaniment, and the dynamic shift when we moved to full orchestra. The cadenzas in the first and third movements seemed to be Maxim’s own and both were excellent, enabling us to hear the delicate qualities of the keyboard, with the ornamentation and virtuosity of the cadenza for the final movement quite astounding. The full string section had their chance to shine in the beautiful melodies of the second movement, but the highlight for me was the second theme of the final movement, introduced by clarinet and bassoon and expanding to include keyboard, strings and horns – a poignant lost aria perhaps for the Countess in the soon to be written “Marriage of Figaro.” The jollity of the dance-like first theme and that splendid cadenza take us through to the end and rapturous applause.
We have a last treat as Maxim, after talking about Mozart’s fondness for the new instrument, the clarinet, plays from memory and with a smaller chamber grouping another slow movement featuring the clarinet.
As he often does, he has left us too much to think about. For most of the audience there’s approval for the performance on the fortepiano, although I hear comments about the thin sound and someone saying he couldn’t hear it properly. The MacMillan also attracts a lot of praise but also the suggestion that it might be better played in the football stadium… As any Scotland supporter knows, you can’t win them all!
