Rachmaninov’s Second Piano Concerto

City Halls, Glasgow 5/2/26

BBCSSO, Gemma New (conductor), Alessio Bax (piano)

Link:  https://www.bbc.co.uk/events/ewh84f

The BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra’s 90th Anniversary Season continued with a “basket of goodies” programme in Glasgow’s City Halls on the night of 5th February.  The headline work was Rachmaninov’s ever-popular and sumptuous 1901 Second Piano Concerto, with Italian virtuoso Alessio Bax as soloist, unusually as the final work on the programme.  It was preceded, just after the interval, by John Adams’ exciting 1986 evocation of the white-knuckled thrill of a ‘Short Ride in a Fast Machine’.  The first half also consisted of two works, Ravel’s wistful 1919 orchestrated commemoration of friends lost in action in World War I, in the form of a reimagined suite of French Baroque courtly dances ‘Le tombeau de Couperin’, followed by Samuel Barber’s rarely-heard but compact, cogent and epic 1936 Symphony No.1, 4 short movements stitched together into a continuous narrative.  A capacity Glasgow audience (with even the choir balcony completely filled) welcomed the return of charismatic New Zealander Gemma New to conduct this feast of a programme.  Back in May last year, Gemma sculpted memorable realisations of Shostakovich’s First Violin Concerto and Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony.  I learned from the orchestra’s Head of Marketing and Communications, Michael Devlin, that the second performance of the same programme, in the (twice the capacity) Usher Hall on Sunday afternoon was also already sold out.  Excellent news and very much what we like to see and hope to see more of.  Concertmaster of the France National Picardie Orchestra, South Korean violinist Kitbi Lee, was our Guest Leader for the evening.  The concert was broadcast live on Radio 3 and introduced as usual by Kate Molleson.  It will remain accessible on BBC Sounds for a month.

For the orchestral version of ‘Le tombeau de Couperin’, Ravel retained all 3 of the dance movements from the 6-movement solo piano suite of the same name, but only the Prélude of the more overtly neoclassical movements, dropping the Fugue and the Toccata.  The overarching mood is one of tender remembrance and nostalgia for happier and simpler times, musically those of François Couperin (1668-1733), personally those before the horrors of Verdun, rather than any elegiac expression of grief.  Not that there is an absence of depth of feeling, but it is manifested in the wealth of orchestral colour and the ebb and flow of phrasing, harmony and dynamics.  I have written before about how Gemma New’s balletic conducting style consistently delivers in these elements, drawing both orchestra and audience into a rewarding shared artistic experience.  Very clear and precise hand and baton movements communicate the nuts-and-bolts of tempo, dynamics and phrasing, while fluid sinuous whole-body movements of her petite frame manifest the more subtle nuances of expression.  The orchestra responds warmly and generously; the audience’s ears listen to hear what they see; their attention captured and richly rewarded.  The Prélude’s liquid wistfulness set the air of elegant nostalgia with particularly lovely oboe-playing from Guest Principal, the fabulous Emily Pailthorpe, answered by the warm tone of the strings.  Emily’s lyrical playing was prominent in the Ravel and throughout the rest of the programme.  The quirky Forlane tripped lightly, cheeky and playful, yet with a tinge of wistful nostalgia for le temps perdu in its contrasting middle section.  Similar was the graceful Menuet, its central section the only place where the stoic mask slips for a moment and the tears are held back with difficulty.  When the first theme returned, Emily’s  oboe acknowledged the sadness and we all understood.  The brusque Rigaudon delivered its “life goes on” message with all the delicacy of a ribald street song (that is, none, obviously).  The central section is a benumbed episode with a nonchalant arabesque middle-eastern quality, but as soon as it seems to be about to drift into introspection, the knees-up interrupts and reasserts the “stiff upper lip” and “always look on the bright side of life” vibe.  This was the most engagingly characterful ‘Tombeau’ I’ve heard, including recordings.  Super.

In 1990, I bought a 2-CD compilation box set of Barber goodies, which included the first two symphonies.  But it also included tastier goodies like the violin and piano concertos and the first two essays, with the result that, whilst I know the First Symphony and would recognise it without difficulty, it rarely gets a playing in the house.  So I was in the mood for a characterful reading of it and, dear reader, that is exactly what we got.  Like Sibelius’ Seventh, it is conceived and presented as a 1-movement work, but has identifiable sections that serve the structural function of more conventional movement forms.  The opening Allegro ma non troppo is an exposition of three themes rooted in E-minor, the first heroic, brooding and unmistakably American, the second lyrical but troubled, the third rounding off the musical argument, before an initial ingenious development of all three.  A listener familiar with the Korngold Symphony might marvel at the fact that the Barber pre-dates the Korngold by 16 years.  The Allegro molto is a scherzo development of the first theme in B-flat/G-minor, transformed into a demonic jig.  Its ‘trio’ section pre-dates the Dies Irae of Britten’s ‘Sinfonia da Requiem’ by 6 years, which I find equally remarkable.  The Andante tranquillo is a development of the second theme as a tender shimmering nocturne in C# major, another gorgeous oboe solo, building on full orchestra to an impassioned climax.  Back to richly contrapuntal E-minor for the Con moto, a troubled, epic passacaglia on the first theme with the others entwined in the texture, building to an emphatic austere close and functioning as a recapitulation.  This was a performance that revealed the symphony as a masterpiece and certainly made me rethink my estimation of Barber as a 20th century innovative symphonist, as well as his place on the same platform as the more “usual suspects”.  And I’ll be hauling out that box set sometime soon.

As regards placement on a platform, Adams’ ‘Short Ride in a Fast Machine’ will always be, for me at any rate, squarely in the BBB (Bonkers But Brilliant) category.  In the tradition of a perpetuum mobile paradoxically concluding abruptly, it is as good an instance as any to counter a claim that “listening to music cannot leave you breathless”.  Exciting, thrilling, pacey, syncopated, overstimulating?  It is all of those things and more, in spades.  And kudos to the percussionist on the wood block for flawless ostinato stamina. Full marks from me.

Such is the popularity of Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto No. 2 that Scottish audiences will never have a long wait for it to be programmed, and indeed it was just under 2 years ago that we last heard it in a memorable BBCSSO Glasgow Thursday with Boris Giltburg as soloist.  Alessio Bax brought an expressive eloquence and artistic appreciation of structure and cogency of musical rhetoric that were at least as engaging and persuasive, while Gemma and the orchestra were the perfect partners in realising the shared vision.  The opening solo chords built the anticipation, and the strings delivered that glorious main theme whose nobility never conceals the underlying stormy passion.  The second theme’s lyricism benefitted from delicious rubato that never lacked subtlety, the matching of phrasing with the soloist and the cellos nothing short of perfect.  The violas and the horns had moments of great warmth in the development, with plenty of nervous energy in the build-up, concluding with a lovely horn solo from Chris Gough.  Mutually responsive phrasing made the music narrate a love story.  The climax of the first movement was thrilling, while the accelerando in the coda was finely judged.  Yann Ghiro’s tender clarinet solo introduced the main theme of the slow movement over Alessio’s arpeggiated triplets, before they swapped roles.  The anxious minor key episode was very touching.  The faster section and the cadenza were thrillingly virtuosic, while the muted strings shimmered in the close of the movement.  The finale launched attacca with glittering bravura,.the tempo flexible to the expressive intent but always passionate and thrilling, even in the slower, marchlike, suspenseful ritornelli with their subtle pianissimo clips on the cymbals.  The first appearance of the ‘Big Tune’ on violas was breathtakingly lovely, while its final passionate restatement before the thrilling coda was overwhelming.  Top-drawer Rachmaninov with soloist, conductor and orchestra “in the zone”.  Glasgow agreed and the applause was thunderous.

There was an encore, an unusual piece for the left hand which was not introduced.  I checked the broadcast recording on BBC Sounds and Kate Molleson identified it as Scriabin’s Prelude Op.9 No.1 in C#-minor for the Left Hand.. Delicately wistful and melancholy, concluding in a tierce de Picardie, it was very lovely.

In her introductory remarks before the broadcast, Kate let slip that the BBCSSO is her favourite orchestra in the world.  No dissenting word from me.