Tchaikovsky's Pathétique Symphony

City Halls, Glasgow 19/3/26

‍BBCSSO, Delyana Lazarova (conductor), Duo Játékok (Adélaïde Panaget & Naïri Badal – pianos)

‍ ‍Link:  https://www.bbc.co.uk/events/embv9r

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The BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra’s new Bulgarian Principal Guest Conductor, Delyana Lazarova, returned to Glasgow’s City Halls on the night of 19th March to conduct a programme of two beefy works. The headlined work after the interval was Tchaikovsky’s heart-rending Symphony No. 6 in B minor, ‘Pathétique’.  The first half was devoted to Mendelssohn’s youthful Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra in A-Flat Major, with Duo Játékok (Adélaïde Panaget & Naïri Badal) as soloists.  Lutosławski's 'Little Suite', which was due to open the programme, was off the menu to enable the concert to fit into the live broadcast slot on Radio 3.  ‘No second take’, the BBCSSO’s tagline for the thrill of live performance, did not perhaps anticipate live broadcast robbing the live audience of the “first take”.  Kate Molleson delivered her customary welcome (to “the beautiful BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra”) and introduction to the programme for both audiences, acoustic and electronic, the former being of entirely satisfactory size.  Clio Gould, Professor of Violin at the Royal Academy of Music in London and former leader of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and the London Sinfonietta, made her fourth guest appearance with the orchestra since August. The recording of the concert will be available as ‘Radio 3 in Concert’ on BBC Sounds for 30 days. 

‍‘Játékok’ is the Hungarian word for ‘games’ and I had come across it before in the 2- and 4-hand piano compositions of György Kurtág.  The French piano duo (Naïri is of Lebanese descent) Duo Játékok were new to me, as was the concerto, composed in 1824 when the composer was just 15.  It was the BBCSSO who gave the UK premiere of the concerto as late as 1967, so the piece fits quite neatly into this celebratory 90th Anniversary season.  The soloists arrived to the stage smartly clad in white, Adélaïde in a trouser suit, Naïri in a dress, the latter playing Piano 1 (though the two piano parts in what followed were of equal prominence).  The first movement had a longish orchestral exposition, with hints of Schubertian melody, Mozartian grace and Beethovenian audacity, though subjectively to this reviewer, not particularly memorable.  The piano entries were glittering and playful (justifying ‘Játékok’ immediately) with freshness and mutual responsiveness in the phrasing.  The interplay with the orchestra was as genial as always with the BBCSSO.  The piano writing was equally virtuosic for both, and I can honestly say that my attention was held for the whole movement.  That said, there is not a shred of tautness in the structure and the movement is essentially a vehicle for the virtuosity of the soloists, originally the composer Felix and his sister Fanny.  The slow movement, by contrast, was immediately recognisable as Mendelssohn, an Andante in 3 with a melody that could be a ‘Song Without Words and also seems to anticipate the slow movement of Chopin’s Second Piano Concerto in its mood.  Following a lovely bit of contrapuntal writing for the wind band, long lines of gorgeous melody, half-romance, half-nocturne; played beautifully with the orchestra equally “in the zone”.  Naïri launched attacca into the very playful finale, followed by Adélaïde, then together, then joined by the orchestra.  The style was back to bravura with a touch of jaunty mischief, striding confidently with a hint of swagger, definitely youthful Mendelssohn, but again anticipating Chopin in Krakowiak mode.  There was a lot of very impressive contrapuntal writing, fugal and canonical, in the 2- and 3-part conversation, and there was a sense of Mendelssohn’s glee in flexing compositional as well as pianistic muscles.  Overall therefore, and notwithstanding some reservations about the first movement, it was a pleasant and satisfying piece and it received a compelling and enjoyable outing, very well-received by the Glasgow audience who had taken the two pianists to their hearts.  For an encore, they played  György Kurtág’s 4-hands piano transcription of the pastoral opening Sonatina from Bach’s cantata ‘Gottes Zeit ist die allerbeste Zeit’, also known as the ‘Actus tragicus’.   Absolutely exquisite.

‍ Tchaikovsky’s final symphony (1893), in the outer movements, must be the rawest and most brutally candid portrayal of  inner mental turmoil, anguish and abject despair, finally crushing the glimmer of hope that surfaces in the inner movements. The experience of hearing it live is always moving and cathartic, but I can honestly say that the performance I heard from the BBCSSO under Delyana Lazarova on Thursday night surpassed all previous hearings in dramatic cohesion and emotional impact, not forgetting world class orchestral playing. The baleful opening on bassoon was answered by the violas with maximum pathos. Nervous energy was in evidence in the main theme of the Allegro non troppo, while a relaxation of tempo allowed the violin phrasing to breathe in the tender second subject.  After a super clarinet solo from Yann Ghiro, the explosive central section let us rage with the composer against the injustice of his misery, in vain as the defiance was crushed to dust.  After a fragile wistful reprise of the tender second subject,.the measured pizzicato tread of the stoic coda led us to reluctant acceptance of fate.  The second movement, waltzlike in mood despite its bizarre 5/4 metre, allowed us to forget our woes in sociable company at a slightly surreal ball, probably imaginary.  Glorious playing from the cellos.  The Allegro molto vivace seemed buoyant at first, the march tempo dismissing the anxiety and the pain.  It is said that Sir Thomas Beecham used to convey the desired mood by singing along in rehearsals: “I’m on my way to Paris, but my wife’s going to stay at home (tiddly-pum)”.  But of course the suppressed angst will out and the march becomes driven, and frantic, and fake, driving itself into the ground.  Thrilling, but destructive and superbly and dramatically realised by Delyana.  The sobs of the opening of finale were all the more poignant by contrast, the stab of heartache accentuated by a horn.  Waves of emotion lead to the same inescapable truth. There is no fight left in the poet.  He accepts fate.  A throbbing figure on the double basses (quoted by Shostakovich in the mysterious closing pages of his Fourth Symphony) shows the failing heartbeat.  It stops.

‍We got a superb and unforgettable  reading of the ‘Pathétique’.  Full marks from me.

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