United Kingdom 2017 BBC PROMS 64 – Rihm, Bruckner: Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra / Daniele Gatti (conductor). Royal Albert Hall, London, 1.9.2017. (CC)
Rihm – In-Schrift
Bruckner – Symphony No.9
Wolfgang Rihm’s 1995 composition In-Schrift is a powerful work, almost Stravinskian in the first part. As the conductor Daniele Gatti explained in a brief radio interview, Rihm exploits the tensions between the families of instruments. A central quasi-chorale offers some respite, the lower strings instructed to play senza vibrato, a moment that starts the music’s trajectory towards a remarkable ‘break’ for high bongos and woodblocks. This is not In–Schrift’s first Proms performance: Claudio Abbado and the Berliner Philharmoniker introduced it in the 1998 season.
In terms of orchestra layout, horns and harps and woodwinds sit where the violins would normally be; the instrumentation includes a pair of contrabass trombones and ‘contrabass tuba’; perhaps unsurprisingly, there are a contrabassoon and bass clarinet there as well. The brass section (which also includes four horns, three trumpets and four trombones) is balanced by three flutes, two clarinets in A as well as seven cellos and seven double-basses.
Written for a performance in St Mark’s Basilica in Venice, the work has a dual-meaning title: ‘Inschrift’ (Inscription) and ‘In Schrift’ (Made in script). The echoes of Stravinsky Gatti mentioned in the radio interview are perhaps understandable as an homage as that composer (along with Monteverdi and Gabrieli) had also written for St Mark’s. Gestural, almost pointillist at times, the piece begins with an arresting F sharp on no less than five tubular bells. The sheer rhythmic precision of Gatti’s performance, its sure confidence, was remarkable, the exactitude of the opening perhaps holding implicit the mechanistic outpouring of the remarkable long rhythmic section for bongos and woodblocks. Drama is key to this work; bass drum thwacks initiate lower strings after that percussion break as if narrating a new chapter of a story.
Perhaps the moment of performance drama here in Gatti’s baton going flying (rescued by the first flautist but actually untouched for the remainder of the performance) was itself an unscripted layer on Rihm’s text (Un-Schrift?!). The performance was stunning in its concentration. There were a suspicious number of empty seats for the first half, especially given the orchestra’s reputation; some even remained empty for the second half, an even bigger surprise.
Daniele Gatti actually performed Bruckner’s Ninth previously at the Proms in 1999 with the Royal Philharmonic. And, of course, the Concertgebouw has a long and honourable tradition in Bruckner symponies. Just at the Royal Albert Hall, there have been performances by Chailly (First, 1992 and Third, 1988 – I was present at the latter, a fine performance) and Haitink (two Fifths an Eighth and a Ninth). Here, Gatti added a Ninth of his own to the Concertgebouw tally, a reading leaner than most.
Antiphonal violins added to the radiance of the contrapuntal writing. Technically, this was some of the finest Bruckner around: the unison horn slurs in that mid-low register were faultless. Structurally, Gatti read the first movement well, allowing for ebb and flow while retaining an underlying muscularity. There was the underlying feeling that this was good but not great Bruckner, however. Whether Gatti’s script was partially deconstuctionist (although not as X-ray in intent as Sinopoli) or just that he wanted a dollop of sunlight filtering through in his sonic cathedral, the effect was a string of highly interesting moments. Emaciated, otherworldly strings offered an intriguingly eerie moment.
Gatti opted to leave no gap between movements, having to make a silencing gesture to the audience at the opening of the third. The feeling that the energy could be cranked up just a touch for the Scherzo was possibly a reflection of a tempo that itself sounded just under. Dissonances offered a heavy-footed dance instead of grinding their way into our consciousness uncomfortably. The superb Trio was phenomenally done, however, and one should acknowledge the brilliant oboe of Alexei Ogrintchouk.
Again, it was moments in the Adagio rather than the movement’s overall trajectory that stood out. Ululating double-basses, a fine quartet of Wagner tubas, a lovely string depth that led to moments of near-radiance and a palpable sense of post-climax desolation were all notable; yet again this ultimately failed fully to engage into the greatness the work offers the interpreter. The ending seemed to come too soon and speak of matters too small.
In terms of Bruckner Ninths at the Proms, while Haitink has offered a quaternity of heavenly farewells (1967, 1969, 1983, 2012), many will rightly hold Günter Wand’s final 2001 Prom in highest regard. Gatti’s offering, however supremely executed, sadly fails to place him in the highest rank of Brucknerians.
Incidentally, this is actually the second (who knows, there may be more?) coupling of Rihm and Bruckner in London in 2017, as the former’s Second Piano Concerto was coupled with the latter’s Seventh Symphony by the BBCSO under Lothar Koenigs with pianist Nicolas Hodges at the Barbican in February. It turns out that the two composers do go rather well together.
It will be interesting to hear Gatti’s Mahler Fourth (Prom 65); maybe there will be a deeper sense of resonance on display.
4 thoughts on “Stunning Rihm from Gatti and the Concertgebouw but their Bruckner is Less Exalted”
The Rihm was a stunning performance as you say, and could not have hoped for a better outing. Breathtaking confidence and accuracy. However, I think you are rather too generous about the Bruckner. Yes, technically and sonically wonderful but a woeful interpretation like last night’s would be likely to put anybody off Bruckner for life if this was their only encounter. I enjoy slow tempi as a rule but there was too little ebb and flow, and the symphony was in danger of grinding to a halt on so many occasions. You’d be forgiven for feeling sleepy even quicker than a bowl of pasta works its soporific effect on the system.
Yes – good that Gatti didn’t rush or dribble prematurely into the climax moments (as so often happens with many other conductors), but all of them still felt unsatisfactory. There seemed no overarching argument or sympathy for the idiom. This is my favourite music in the world, and yet not once was I moved or frankly interested – and this is such a pity given how wonderful the orchestra are. I’m really nervous about the Mahler tonight as I’ve lost confidence in Mr Gatti, who appears to be second rate and has succeeded a fine line of first rate conductors in Amsterdam, with Haitink in a league of his own. But I shall still go in hope – and at least can be confident that the sounds will be wonderful even if they don’t add up making music.
Rather belatedly – but in the spirit of fair-mindedness I must add that Saturday’s concert (the Haydn and Mahler) was absolutely wonderful. I didn’t mind Gatti’s mannerisms at all and though he ‘overdid’ a number of moments and played around with the tempi more than the score asks for, it was an evening of sheer beauty and revelation. I was SO relieved as I’d lost confidence in the conductor the previous night. Just goes to show that you should stick to repertoire for which you have some kind of affinity and if you really don’t ‘get’ the idiom re other composers then avoid them.
Thanks Neil for your reflections.
Neil rates Haitink’s Bruckner at the Concertgebouw as being ‘in a league of his own’. And indeed his Bruckner can be impressive. It is always well structured, well phrased, and obviously – with the Concertgebouw- well played. But I rarely get that ‘something extra’. by which I mean, especially in the Ninth and Eighth, a spontaneous and intense sense of drama. It is there to a frightening degree in the old 1944 Berlin radio Furtwängler performance, it is so intense that it is almost difficult to listen to. Haitink’s predecessor and mentor at the Concertgebouw Eduard van Beinum could also inflect his Bruckner performances (especially in the Ninth) with this dramatic (almost sublime) frisson. And there is a 1957 Concertgebouw Bruckner 5 with Klemperer which also achieves an apocalyptic and radiant power/drama. Compared with these ‘classic’ Bruckner conductors Haitink seems to me to be merely decent, correct, reliable. He rarely achieves that dramatic frisson so essential to Bruckner’s unique symphonies.