United Kingdom Prom 44 – Samy Moussa, Shostakovich, Stravinsky: Pavel Kolesnikov (piano), BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra / Gemma New (conductor). Royal Albert Hall, London, 18.8.2023. (CS)
Samy Moussa – Symphony No.2 (BBC co-commission: European premiere)
Dmitry Shostakovich – Piano Concerto No.2 in F major. Op.102
Igor Stravinsky – The Firebird
After their tremendous contribution to the UK premiere of György Kurtág’s Endgame the evening before (review here), under the baton of their Chief Conductor Ryan Wigglesworth, the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra returned to the Royal Albert Hall with the New Zealand-born conductor Gemma New for a colourful programme of 20th- and 21st-century orchestral works.
New has been making a name for herself of late. Since 2019, she’s been the Principal Guest Conductor of the Dallas Symphony and, after being the recipient of the 2021 Georg Solti Conducting Award, in 2022 she became the Principal Conductor and Artistic Advisor of the New Zealand Symphony. This was her Prom’s debut, and my first opportunity to see her conduct.
My first impression, as New launched the quasi-Wagnerian brass fanfares – not entirely securely delivered – that open Samy Moussa’s Symphony No.2 (2022), was that rhythm is her focus, and that she uses immensely muscular physical gestures to propel and shape the music. Her baton technique is angular, the sweeps and scoops vast, both arms gyrating vigorously. Rhythmic ‘punches’ come from the shoulder, especially on the first beats of the bar. She’s never still – a human metaphor for animation. Such relentless ‘dynamism’, can, paradoxically, feel a bit draining.
That said, New was certainly ‘in control’, and every detail of Moussa’s densely textured score was determinedly directed. And, maybe she was just trying hard to give some shape and purpose to the Canadian-born composer’s 20-minute ‘Symphony’? On the plus side, Moussa has a sure and inventive grasp of orchestral colour and sonority. Flugelhorn (replacing trombones), euphonium and tuba made for a mellow mix; the strings sometimes indulged in some Barber-like heart-wrenching, elsewhere embarked on some staccato scurrying; piano, percussion and mallet percussion added sparkle and bright flashes, which were balanced by darker episodes. New precisely painted each appealing hue, the colours sometimes made yet more sweet by the audience-friendly harmonic soupiness.
There’s a cinematic sweep to the work, the three ‘movements’ of which run on segue. What seemed to me to be missing is clarity of architecture (perhaps some pauses would have been helpful – there was a hint of a ‘scherzo’ at one point), and convincing development and synthesis. There is little sense that the ‘content’ adds up to something. Instead, it’s as if Moussa has been playing about on a compositional colour-pad.
There’s plenty of colour, too, in Shostakovich’s Second Piano Concerto (1957), a surprisingly ‘sunny’ work in comparison to the sombre Tenth Symphony that preceded it and the Eleventh Symphony and middle quartets upon which he was working at the same time. Its dedicatee was the composer’s then 19-year-old son, Maxim, the work intended as a vehicle for the talented pianist and composer to secure admission to the Moscow Conservatory.
Pavel Kolesnikov is the perfect ambassador for the work’s youthful spirit, wit and humour, as well as its unaffectedness. Even if he hadn’t been wearing such an eye-catching outfit, he would have had everyone’s attention the moment he came onto the RAH stage and held them riveted from the first note, so relaxed and unassuming is his demeanour, so genuine the smile with which he greeted the Prommers’ warm welcome. Despite that flamboyant attire, there was nothing ostentatious about Kolesnikov’s manner at the keyboard, just as there was nothing wanting in his technical arsenal. This was assured virtuosity without showy excess: the gallops were fluent, the melodising honest. There was no affectation. The work’s humour and lack of sentimentality seemed to suit him to a tee.
The tempo of the Allegro was not too reckless, and this helped create a transparency which gave room for the movement’s ‘busyness’ to speak. The bassoon issued a perky invitation to the piano to join in the wry march, and Kolesnikov’s opening piano octaves were crisp, suitably dry. New respected the chamber-like clarity of the textures, though occasionally, at the unison ‘punctuation points’, I felt that the orchestral weight was a little too heavy. The piano’s power in the demanding parallel octave passages never felt laboured though; propelled by woodwind and brass nose-thumbs, the solo part flew rather than romped through those ironic scalic cascades and ‘study-like’ episodes. In the cadenza, Kolesnikov seemed to have fairy-fingers, so pinpoint was the counterpoint. And, there was salty wit in the succinct coda.
The muted strings were soothing at the opening of the Andante, and the phrases had plenty of space to breathe. Kolesnikov’s crystalline melody floated on their caressing bed of sound, the horn’s tender utterances a gentle nudge for the rolling arpeggios in the left hand. The echoes of Chopin and Rachmaninov are obviously evident in this movement, with a nod to Tchaikovsky too, but here Ravel’s neoclassical clarity and directness seemed a stronger voice.
New turned the corner into the concluding Allegro neatly – just the slightest suspension of the onward movement – and with panache and sparkle, Kolesnikov dashed off the unruly dance, his irrepressible energy matched by the lopsided swagger of the BBCSSO’s 7/8 Cossack lurches. The whirlwind of wizardry exploded in a shimmer of scales – perhaps designed to dazzle those Conservatoire professors – and some carnivalesque cadential celebrations brought things to an exuberant close. Kolesnikov – everyone! – was certainly grinning widely. The encore, a transcription by Siloti of Bach’s Prelude in E minor from the first book of the Well-Tempered Clavier was a lovely palette-cleanser: beautifully controlled dynamics and rubatos but, again, no self-indulgence, just sincerity and, in this vast Hall, astonishing intimacy.
After the interval we had Stravinsky’s fusion of folk-tale, faerie and fire, The Firebird – a welcome opportunity to hear this score in its entirety as opposed to in the form of one of the three suites that Stravinsky made, all of which scaled back the huge orchestral forces of the original (quadruple woodwinds, triple brass, seven percussion parts besides timpani, three harps, celeste, and piano). It was interesting to see New relax a little here – the angularity of her gestures softened, there was less physical restlessness, and relentless momentum was replaced by subtle gives-and-takes as the narrative unfolded. There was warmth in this storytelling, and attention to detail. New recognised the significance of Stravinsky’s bass lines and those eight double basses served her well. However, while her unhurried approach might have been welcome, the fantastical elements didn’t fly. Those solo voices should soar more ethereally. And, I like my Infernal Dance a bit more menacing and savage. The final ten minutes – surely some of the most compelling music ever written, even without the visual narrative of the dance to absorb one – didn’t mesmerise me as they usually do. They were precise but perfunctory rather than the perfection – asymmetries and all – that they can seem.
But, while New may not have put a stamp of her own personality on this Firebird, the performance was vigorously appreciated. She’ll be welcomed back by the Prommers, without a doubt.
A final thought: Prommers’ rituals and recognition of prowess have always been as ‘noisy’ as their attentiveness to performances have been silent; but, when did wild, ear-splitting whooping become par for the course?
Claire Seymour
This concert is available on BBC Sounds for one month.
Strange how other critics heard differently, finding the BBC SSO’s playing virtuosic, with punchy playing in the Infernal Dance, with the final ten minutes compelling, as one said ‘properly jubilant’. Just proves that you can’t, please all critics all the time, because it wasn’t played just the way they like it.
Jim Pritchard replied to Anonymous: Claire may respond herself but I would add what you write is the exact reason why you should trust the opinions on S&H because in the main it is independent criticism when we are allowed to write that not everything is as great as you might read elsewhere.