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Dvořák – Carnival Overture, Op.92, B.169; Cello Concerto in B minor, Op.104, B.191; Symphony No.8 in G major, Op.88, B.163
To launch their 51st season, the Scottish Chamber Orchestra opened with a programme of the Czech Republic’s most popular composer Antonín Dvořák. This is hardly surprising in that 2024 is the Year of Czech Music in which we celebrate the anniversaries of Smetana, Dvořák and Janáček. My only regret in this evening was that we could not hear something by the founder of Czech musical tradition – Bedřich Smetana and which was so richly developed by his countrymen. On a cold autumnal evening it was heartening to see many young people in the hall, and this beckons well for the coming months.
The concert came to life as soon as Maxim Emelyanychev sweeping gesture launched the richly embroidered phrases of the Carnival Overture, with the extra brass instruments and percussion preparing us for the rich textures of the rustic and colourful folk harmonies. The playing was bright and breezy with all the colours of Bohemian folk dances dominant. The central reflective section was distinguished by the lovely cor anglais idea of Katherine Bryer, before we returned to the gusty climax of furiants, and polkas delightfully played by the woodwind and brass – it was so natural almost as if the orchestra have this music in their blood. There were moments in which the brass and woodwind deafened the strings.
To have as the soloist the renowned Steven Isserlis for the Dvořák Cello Concerto was a guarantee of success; one of its finest interpreters, he has spoken widely of its gorgeous melodies, its heroism and flowing harmonies. The last time I heard the Dvořák Cello Concerto performed by Isserlis was a performance that could not be forgotten, nor thought could ever be bettered. Unlike Dvořák’s violin and piano concertos, and an early cello concerto, the B minor concerto has a popularity shared only with the cello concertos by Saint-Saëns, Elgar, and especially the bond with the Slavic melancholy of Tchaikovsky’s ‘Rococo Variations’.
Yet on this evening, like a fine French wine (or perhaps Moravian!), Isserlis’s handling of the work seems matured and he fashioned a much deeper, more introspective reading. Of course, on this evening he had Emelyanychev as his collaborator, and this was another factor in the creation of such a remarkable performance. The soloist playing was more intense and more thoughtful than before, and while, in some parts, the brass seemed loud, there were lovely contributions from the clarinet of Maximiliano Martin, and from André Cebrián on the flute, plus splendid harmonies from the horn of Ken Henderson. They were abetted wonderfully by the richly luxuriant violas and cellos, and a notably memorable moment came with the transitory cello solo by Philip Higham – complemented by the flute of Cebrián – and prior to the concluding diminuendo, we heard the notable quotation of the song ‘Leave Me Alone’ here more deeply and movingly accomplished than in the slow movement. As an encore, Isserlis played a beautiful folk-inspired piece ‘Maple’ by the Scottish composer Sally Beamish.
More so than the ever-popular ‘New World’ Symphony, I consider its predecessors, the mighty Seventh and the Eighth Symphonies more attractive for their uninhibited freedom of musicality and melodic form, and interestingly the G major Eighth Symphony was once called Dvořák’s ‘English Symphony’. In his direction, from the outset, and noticeably favouring brisk tempos, Emelyanychev unleashed an extraordinary reading with the opening Allegro con brio magnificently performed by the orchestra, and the phrasing were superbly heightened with an astounding solo from the flute of Cebrián following the introductory theme in the strings – like a bird call in the forest, leading to a sequence of spectacularly musical fluency. In the Adagio the bohemian folk element was palpable in the interplaying of the clarinets between Martin and William Stafford. Yet the overwhelmingly Slavic melancholy arose with the waltz in the Allegretto grazioso as captivating as anything created by Tchaikovsky, and this charming musical invention was heightened by the subtly gentle Trio sequence. The finale (Allegro ma non troppo) exploded like a whirlwind as the orchestra stormed unrestrainedly with the fanfare on the trombones and trumpets heralding a lovely dance-like passage on the cellos. And after several rustically evocative sequences on the woodwind, the celebratory finale was reprised by the glorious trumpets.
One often feels that after such a superb performance that orchestras should give their audience an encore – there used to be a tradition for this – and orchestras on tour always prepare encores. Such terrific concerts allow us to forget – if just for a few hours – the crises surrounding humankind and audiences could be rewarded for their loyalty and sent away happy and contented. This was a tremendous beginning to the Scottish Chamber Orchestra’s season and augers well for the year ahead.
Gregor Tassie
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