LF 26: Javier Perianes directs the SCO

St Mary's Church, Haddington 13/9/26

Scottish Chamber Orchestra; Javier Perianes (piano/director); Stephanie Gonley (director)

The Scottish Chamber Orchestra brought a “basket of goodies” programme to the Lammermuir Festival on the night of 13th September. After the interval, they were joined by Spanish virtuoso pianist Javier Perianes to direct Beethoven’s C minor Piano Concerto from the keyboard. In the first half, leader Stephanie Gonley directed two favourites from the leader’s chair on a slightly raised podium. Ravel’s ‘Le tombeau de Couperin’ is an orchestration of 4 movements from a bittersweet 6-movement neoclassical piano suite dedicated to friends who had perished in the First World War, Haydn’s ‘Clock’ Symphony was one of those composed for the 1793-4 London season, every one a gem and rapturously received, its nickname referring to the rocking bassoon figure in the slow movement, which resembles the ticking of a clock.

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. The Prélude’s fluid wistfulness set the air of elegant nostalgia with particularly lovely oboe-playing from Clara Schweinberger (memorable in the Poulenc Sonata with Maxim Emelyanychev in the Queen;s Hall just three weeks ago), answered by the warm tone of the strings. The oboe is prominent throughout the piece. 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, the oboe, an octave higher than before, caught the fragility and vulnerability perfectly and, yes, there was “something in my eye”. 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. An engaging and characterful reading informed by chamber sensibilities. Super.

Haydn’s Symphony No 101 in D major ‘Clock’ uses a full classical orchestra with double winds, trumpets and horns (both were period instruments), timpani and strings. The spooky D-minor Adagio introduction made the high spirits of the 6/8 Presto feel like a gleeful escape to freedom – no wonder its first audience demanded to hear it again. The clever counterpoint in the development was also very satisfying, revealed with persuasive clarity. The Andante matched charm with whimsy in just the right proportion for it to be unclear which had the upper hand, a recipe for more satisfying humour than slapstick any day, Even a short stern minor key departure seems tongue-in-cheek. Elegance subverted. Priceless. With trumpets and timpani in the mix, the minuet is also cheekily inelegant. The Trio was faster than I’ve heard it before, perhaps to make it lighter on its feet. If that was the reason, it succeeded, but I think it lost a bit of its charm. The playing from André Cebrián’s flute and Cerys Ambrose-Evans bassoon was very lovely, especially their dialogue, but I think it would have been more delightful at the usual tempo. No such qualms with the finale, one of Haydn’s finest. There is plenty of cheerful scampering, but also some serious musical argument for the connoisseurs in the London audience, including an extended minor-key “military” episode, followed by a super fugue, all earning the jubilant coda. We got it all in spades. Enthusiastic applause from a packed St Mary’s in Haddington.

Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No 3 in C Minor Op 37 is a masterpiece by any standards, and Javier Perianes set about proving it. He conducted the orchestral exposition from a standing position, shaping every phrase as if he were playing it, with attention to detail, like every sforzando observed and in proportion to its place in the overall argument. When he sat down to play, his reading accentuated the symphonic elements of the writing, the piano integrated into the ensemble sound, a protagonist for sure, but not an adversary, all the while gesturing to continue shaping the ensemble sound. Paradoxically, this seemed to deliver a great romantic concerto, which I happen to agree is a fair description of the C-minor. The cadenza was dramatic, with elements of lyricism, dance and stormy passion in equal measure. The spooky coda, where the ghost of the earlier themes return, like in the first movement of the 9th Symphony, was powerfully dramatic. I see in my notes that I jotted “Proper Beethoven!”. The piano started the Largo, a meditative quasi-improvisatory romance. When the orchestra came in, the flute’s tenderness with the melody was exquisite. A central section where the piano rolled as the winds commented proved, as I had noticed in Jeremy Denk’s Mozart concerts, the wisdom of having the pianist/director facing the orchestra and the winds in particular. In the delicate closing pages of the movement, it was possible to entertain the illusion that the music, rather than performed from a score, was being created before our eyes. Magical. The Rondo launched attacca on solo piano, a spicy gypsy or folk dance, the orchestra willing accomplices in the ensuing mischief. Mini-cadenzas for the soloist took the place of stylish ritornelli. A lovely clarinet solo from Maximiliano Martín led a sweet major key episode, taken up by piano. A short fugue for strings was another characterful episode. A slightly longer mini-cadenza released the gleeful whooping galloping major-key coda. This performance of Beethoven’s 3rd Piano Concerto was nothing short of superb and one I shall remember for a very long time.

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