United States Shostakovich, Beethoven: Leonidas Kavakos (violin), Cleveland Orchestra / Franz Welser-Möst (conductor). Mandel Concert Hall at Severance Music Center, Cleveland, 28.2.2025. (MSJ)
Shostakovich – Violin Concerto No.2 in C-sharp minor, Op.129
Beethoven – Symphony No.3 in E-flat major, Op.55, ‘Eroica’
There were cheers at the beginning of this concert as the audience welcomed the return of music director Franz Welser-Möst to the Cleveland Orchestra after an extended absence due to health challenges. Guest soloist Leonidas Kavakos graciously smiled in acknowledgement of the crowd’s gesture, which was classy (as it was for Alan Gilbert, originally scheduled, to turn the baton over to Welser-Möst so the latter could make an early return to his orchestra). Kavakos probably also had the confidence to know that by the end of Shostakovich’s Violin Concerto No.2, the cheers would be for him and his commanding performance.
It is a bit of a mystery why the Shostakovich Violin Concerto No.2 is heard so much less frequently than his first. I suppose No.1 launched into the stratosphere as the most popular violin concerto of the mid-twentieth century because it is straightforwardly compelling in its sheer defiance. The Concerto No.2 is a much later work coming out of that distinctively bleak and elusive world of late-Shostakovich. The first movement is a moderately-paced slow burn that Kavakos didn’t so much play as he inhabited it, slowly but surely pulling listeners into its uneasily introspective world. The slow movement continues in an even darker vein, Kavakos’s initial solos sounding like the music was trying to pull itself up out of the darkness but repeatedly failing to find a secure handhold. Solo passages in both movements only intensified the searing sense of self-questioning as Kavakos dug deep, filling the hall with the sound of the enormous chords that the solo violin is given in the cadenzas. The sardonic finale broke the tension and turned the intensity outward into a stomping dance, giving the soloist a chance to show the fiery, virtuoso side of his art. It was little short of a triumph, received with fervor by the audience.
Less triumphant was Welser-Möst’s typically subdued take on Beethoven’s ‘Eroica’ Symphony. While the conductor has grown in stature over the years as an interpreter of Schubert, Bruckner and Mahler, his Beethoven has remained stubbornly committed to certain features: a large complement of strings, generally fast tempos, lyrical articulation, attenuated attacks and underplayed accents. This all-purpose application of restraint as a guiding principal fails to mesh with the observed history of Beethoven’s behavior. It is well-documented that the man was known for breaking strings on pianos, even the wooden hammers of the instruments; he was said to crouch while conducting quiet passages, then leap into the air to emphasize fortes. None of that suggests restraint and pulled punches to me. Therefore, I can only conclude that Welser-Möst’s Beethoven is more about his own aesthetic than it is about Beethoven’s.
Sleek and metronomic, this ‘Eroica’ enforced a rounded-off lyrical shape onto the strings and left wind parts largely to fare for themselves. With a full complement of strings – more players than Beethoven was ever known to have – the woodwinds in particular were often drowned out, negating the starch written into the works. From where I was seated, I could not see if the winds were expanded in equal proportion to the strings but, if they were, they were still not given free rein to punch through the string-heavy textures. The first movement was kept on a tight leash, despite the harmonic struggles written into the development, and transition points were not allowed any room for flexibility, giving the music a rushed feel. Likewise, the second movement funeral march was too hurried to make the cosmic impact it is capable of, despite Jeffrey Rathbun’s expressive oboe solos.
The Scherzo was better, making its points at a moderate pace which allowed the horns in the trio to expand majestically in their heaven-storming fanfare. Best of all was the Finale, where the variation structure encouraged high levels of instrumental color. It built to a grand conclusion, providing some of the heroic element missing earlier in the performance, and then closed with a rather relaxed coda. In sum, it was pleasing to see Welser-Möst back in front of his orchestra and looking in more vital health than he had last summer, and this performance certainly accomplished what it set out to do which was to frame Beethoven with severe restraint. In a world suffering from a lack of heroes, though, is classical restraint an adequate aesthetic response?
Mark Sebastian Jordan