The Cleveland Orchestra began its concert on Sunday afternoon with a rarity: the Symphony No. 2 of Prokofiev. Strange that this piece is a rarity. It is by a famous composer who is also a famous symphonist. But there we are.
Prokofiev wrote seven symphonies. As a rule, we hear No. 1 (the “Classical”), No. 5, and No. 7. But not the other four.
The Symphony No. 2 had been heard in Carnegie Hall only once before. (Have I mentioned that the Clevelanders played in Carnegie Hall on Sunday? They did.) This was in 2005, when Valery Gergiev conducted the Kirov Orchestra.
Taking advantage of online archives, I looked into the New York Philharmonic. The Philharmonic has played the symphony twice: in 1979, under Gennady Rozhdestvensky, and in 1996, under Gergiev.
Conducting the Cleveland Orchestra on Sunday afternoon was its music director, Franz Welser-Möst. It was recently announced that he will remain in this post through 2027. He will have served twenty-five years, which is a long tenure, in this changeable age.
From the opening measures, Prokofiev’s symphony had vitality. There was “energy in the executive.” I stress this point because the Cleveland Orchestra’s first concert in Carnegie Hall, on Saturday night, was a little . . . sleepy. (I will discuss this concert in my next “chronicle” for the print magazine.)
“What a difference a day makes/ Twenty-four little hours.” That is how an old song begins. But in this case—a Saturday-night concert and a Sunday-afternoon concert—we’re talkin’ more like eighteen hours.
Yes, this performance was alive. Still, I wanted more: a little more danger, a little more drive, even a speck more lunacy. A bit more raucousness. The Cleveland Orchestra was elegant and polished almost to a fault.
Nevertheless, I admired this performance. Welser-Möst can be relied on for intelligence. And he had the whole thing beautifully organized.
Next came another symphony—but a very different one, by Anton Webern. (He wrote just one: one symphony.) Webern was becoming a serialist. This symphony—I feel like I should use quotation marks—can seem almost a private exercise, rather than a piece for public performance. Welser-Möst’s reading of it was almost painfully matter-of-fact. True, you don’t need to do much to this piece. It practically plays itself. Yet, there is more music in it—more feeling, if you like—than was evident on Sunday afternoon.
After intermission, there was one more symphony—another by Prokofiev. No. 5, an eternal hit.
“No fair comparing,” I said to myself. There is an ancient phrase: “Comparisons are odious.” (In Much Ado about Nothing, Shakespeare has Dogberry say “odorous.”) This orchestra, the Cleveland, made a very famous recording of the Symphony No. 5 in 1959, under George Szell. No fair comparing.
And I did not, and I do not.
Standing out in the orchestra on Sunday was the woodwind section. Has anyone loved woodwinds more than Prokofiev did? Yes, Tchaikovsky. But Prokofiev is not too far behind.
Afendi Yusuf, born in Ethiopia, is the principal clarinet. He holds the Robert Marcellus Chair. Marcellus was one of the outstanding orchestral musicians of the twentieth century. He was the principal clarinet of the Cleveland from 1953 to 1973. What an honor—and a burden?—for a clarinetist to hold the Marcellus chair! Mr. Yusuf bears it well.
The Prokofiev Fifth was well played, by one and all. Maestro Welser-Möst’s grasp on the score was clear. But my review has a theme: more. In this symphony, I wanted more precision, more incisiveness, more underlying tension, more humor, more aching Romanticism—the kind that characterizes Romeo and Juliet and Cinderella (Prokofiev’s big ballets).
My greed aside, the Cleveland and Welser-Möst earned their applause. I’m sorry they didn’t play an encore (and they did not on Saturday night either). Local orchestras seldom play an encore. But from visiting orchestras, you almost feel entitled.
I myself would have borrowed a page from Yuri Temirkanov, the great Russian conductor who died in November. One of his regular encores was the Amoroso from Cinderella. I heard it in my head as I went out into the night.
A Message from the Editors
Support our crucial work and join us in strengthening the bonds of civilization.
Your donation sustains our efforts to inspire joyous rediscoveries.
Source: newcriterion.com
