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SYMPHONY REVIEW
February 1, 2004
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By Renato Rodolfo-Sioson
The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra under the direction of Daniele Gatti offered an unapologetically traditional program in its concert last Sunday: Beethoven's “Eroica” Symphony and Brahms' Second Piano Concerto. While the fare may have been oh-so-familiar, the audience had the pleasure of an unexpected novelty — the debut appearance of a Fazioli F308 grand piano at Davies Symphony Hall.
Fazioli pianos have achieved something of a cult status among enthusiasts; and similar to California cult wines, such as Screaming Eagle or Diamond Creek, their production is extremely limited and they are wildly expensive. Further fanning the flames of this cult mentality is the extreme idealism behind its construction (only one out of 200 selected red spruce trees produces wood worthy of a Fazioli soundboard) and its massive size. The F308 model is Fazioli's and, currently, the world's largest piano at an almost freakish length of ten feet two inches. (Only a handful are produced every year, retailing at a stupefying $184,000.) But more to the point, Faziolis are slowly gaining wider renown for their increased ability to sustain notes (even in the upper register), for the clarity of their lower register, and for their broader dynamic range.
These virtues were apparent throughout Garrick Ohlsson's performance of the Brahms Concerto. The thick bass textures, teeming with the close position triads and inversions, remained surprisingly unmuddy. And the last two movements provided ample scope for his perfectly controlled, whisper-thin pianississimos. Nevertheless, I remained unconvinced by one element of Ohlsson's (and consequently, Gatti's) interpretation. His habitual impetuosity and his reliance on fast tempos was certainly exciting (I especially remember the sweep of those notoriously awkward piano trills in the first movement and the vertiginous accelerando at the end of the second). However, it soon became apparent that Ohlsson tends to sacrifice certain key moments for the sake of this relentless forward momentum.
One example was the point just before the first movement's recapitulation — a breathtakingly fragile moment where the murmuring piano part cushions the return of the opening horn melody. By pressing forward here, Ohlsson glossed over the structural significance of one of Brahms's most subtle and, in this case, deliberately un-concertolike recapitulations. Even the famous solo cello opening of the slow movement sounded slightly straitjacketed. Given its obsessive emphasis of each beat, the melody threatened to degenerate into a quasi-march completely at odds with the rhapsodic lyricism of the movement.
Although the Brahms concerto suffered from occasional lapses in ensemble (the worst being a botched horn entrance in the first movement, several beats ahead of the other winds), these became more noticeable in the first movement of the “Eroica” — surprisingly, the weakest piece of the evening. Gatti's blistering pace, while actually adhering to Beethoven's original metronome mark (dotted half note = 60), was nevertheless barely within the Orchestra's capabilities. Even more problematic was the myopic omission of all those fussy details that are the hallmark of a Beethoven score: strongly etched crescendos and diminuendos, biting sforzandos, crisp staccatos, and above all, pristine articulation. Without this variety of dynamics and attack, the heroic vigor of this movement turns slightly flabby, its individualistic expressivity turns stolidly impersonal. Given such an inauspicious opening, who expected such a triumphant conclusion? In the remaining movements, the Orchestra leapt from strength to strength. Some minor problems in ensemble remained. But from the very opening of the Funeral March, carefully graded dynamics and subtle shifts in tempo delineated the quicksilver mood swings — oppressive gloom, fond remembrance, effusive lamentation, anger, resignation — all in quick succession, all clearly characterized. The Scherzo (an allegro vivace more fearlessly vivace than allegro) and the Finale were an exuberant celebration for the entire orchestra, now defiantly faster than Beethoven's markings. Even at the opening of the Trio, the horns did not require the usual slackening of the tempo. (And special kudos to principal flutist Andrew Nicholson for those eight measures of machine-gun sixteenth notes in the fourth variation of the Finale.) Any doubts lingering from the first movement were effectively quelled; the balance of the symphony indeed fulfilled the “Eroica's” title page description, celebrating “the memory of a great man.” Or more specifically, the memory of a great composer.
(Renato Rodolfo-Sioson has a Master's degree in musicology from the
University of California, Berkeley. He also received the Licentiate of the
Royal Schools of Music in piano performance while studying in India and
occasionally appears as an accompanist and chamber musician throughout the
Bay Area.)
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Daniele Gatti
Garrick Ohlsson