Scottish Chamber Orchestra: The Emperor
In contrast to Sunday afternoon’s summery crowd gathering outside the Usher Hall for the SSO opening concert, today’s SCO audience rush inside to escape the autumnal blasts. But the atmosphere inside the hall is just as excited. I notice a nice idea on the way in – the digital programme is available by clicking on a code in the foyer. Tickets have sold well. All the original seats available in the Stalls and Circle went quickly and there’s a good attendance in the Upper Circle which was opened later for bookings.
The programme lists almost as many SCO players as there were in Sunday’s SSO. The chairs seem more compactly arranged on stage with their brass – horns and trumpets - at either end of the row of wind instruments. The double basses have the higher seats in the organ gallery – three in the centre. Below them on the stage the violas and cellos make up the centre portion of the strings, with first violins to the left and second violins to the right.
Gavin Reid, the SCO Chief Executive, is cheered for his upbeat welcome back to the Usher Hall, and then Maxim Emelyanychev bounces onto the platform to further applause. It’s good to begin with a familiar work, although Beethoven is never a soft option. The orchestra provides an enthusiastic and sometimes daring account. The young Russian pianist, Lukas Geniusas, has a CV which dates back to his mid-teens. He’s an almost stolid, certainly non-flamboyant, presence at the piano. I always enjoy being in the front stalls for piano music, and I have a perfect view of Geniusas’ hands on the keyboard. Some of the first movement is restrained, almost Mozartian, and here he shows a delicate touch and control in the runs and trills. But there’s plenty of weight in the heavy chords and he makes the most of the sweeps up and down the down the keyboard which come later in the movement. The second movement is taken very slowly with plenty of room to breathe - a noticeable pause between each legato phrase. The string-tone, almost a buzzy effect, is noticeably warm here, and there are lovely passages too when the natural horns accompany the piano. Beethoven’s transition between the second and third movement is one of his best. The pianist appears to try out the opening phrases, before breaking into the full theme with its catchy rhythm. Here Genuisas’ skill shows in his setting up the beat – the first violins are already tapping their feet and swaying before they start playing themselves. Emelyanychev takes this finale at a fair lick – but the SCO enjoy the challenge, nodding and smiling to each other as they keep up the momentum. The forty minutes playing passes quickly. The months without live music helps us to appreciate anew old warhorses like the Emperor, and maybe to listen more intently to the individual instruments.
There’s no interval today, although the pause as the piano is shifted gives the audience a chance to chat and study the programme. David Kettle’s notes on the genesis of both pieces are most interesting. The concerto’s ‘Emperor’ nickname was probably chosen by an editor, and certainly not by Beethoven, who having once admired Napoleon for his democratic beliefs, had rapidly changed his mind as he saw the damage he wreaked in his war-mongering, not least on Beethoven’s home city, Vienna. Mendelssohn however chose the Scottish symphony name as it was based on his tour of Scotland when he was just 20. The experiences on which he reflected in the music were recollected in some tranquillity as the work was not finished until 1842, 13 years after his visit. Meanwhile he started to write the ‘Hebrides Overture’ while still in Scotland, and it was premiered the following year (1830).
The first movement of the symphony begins in a solemn fashion, on woodwind and violas, and was inspired by Mendelssohn’s visit to the ruined Holyrood chapel. He was interested in the beauty of the site, but was also aware of its turbulent history, particularly the events during Mary’s reign, including Rizzio’s murder. So the plaintive serious tone at the beginning of the movement is interspersed with dramatic frenzied sections for full orchestra. Emelyanychev stands on the stage, not a podium – and conducts energetically, almost dancing at times. There are hints of folk song in the gentler theme on strings and winds, but this is swept away by stormy music, with rising and falling wind effects on strings and loud timpani. Stormier weather than in the ‘Hebrides Overture’, as one critic has suggested!
The cheerful second movement, the most familiar part of the work, suggests an outdoors scene, with some nice burbling work on the bassoons, while the slow third movement contains a lovely theme for upper strings and woodwinds, accompanied by pizzicato lower strings. The conductor blows on the palm of his hand at one point, signalling to the strings the light airy tone he’s looking for.
The orchestra is engaged throughout in the changes of mood and temp, and excels in the last movement, a spirited dance. David Kettle notes that this may owe more to the composer’s German heritage than his fading memories of Scotland, but it’s exciting music, and the first violins (almost all women) mark the rhythm with hair flying and strong bowing. The finale is heralded by the horns, after some tricky quieter music throughout the concert, allowed full cry at last.
I imagine a number in the hall today were at the SCO’s last concert here on 12th March 2020, which concluded with Nicola Benedetti playing ‘Farewell to Stromness’, as the orchestra left the stage one by one. Today we’ve celebrated having them back, in good heart and superb form.
For further information about Mendelssohn’s Scottish travels, I recommend the website Mendelssohn in Scotland which includes excerpts from his diaries and sketches.
