Arabian Knights
I cannot deny that Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No 2 is a masterpiece. After all, it is better than anything I could compose. However, I will not pretend that it is anything even remotely close to the genius of the Piano Concerto No 1 or any of the other staple warhorses that are on loop in the schedules of concert pianists.
As presented by English powerhouse Stephen Hough, the pyrotechnics of the work were duly sent up, with a flurry of hands and a blaze of activity up to the close in the final third movement. However, to say that the work arrested my senses would be tantamount to a bare-faced lie, as the intermittent shut-eyes I managed to catch during the half-hour can attest to.
There was a lot of pomp and circumstance, coming across as a lot of hot air to defuse the definitely lesser quality of the work against its predecessor. In the second movement, there was an extended duet between the violin and cello as taken by Principals, Alexander Souptel and Roberto Trainini.
The former we are familiar with his effusive and exertive playing and his smiles and acknowledgment of the audience and their applause. The latter, the temporary filler of Nella Hunkin's chair, was of the "Look, Ma! No hands!" show-off school, where when afforded, he would narcisistically play single handedly with a smug look on his face.
I am too old to start to learn to appreciate new and unfamiliar things. Perhaps it is best summarised by this quote from Pretty Woman: "People's reactions to opera the first time they see it is very dramatic; they either love it or they hate it. If they love it, they will always love it. If they don't, they may learn to appreciate it, but it will never become part of their soul." Though I can safely say I doubt I will ever learn to appreciate this work in question. Just as I will unlikely start to go gaga over Lady Gaga.
And what of the charming chinoiserie-infused encore that Hough bestowed as a nod to the demographics of the audience, and perhaps a hint of his own preference for rice...
Fortunately, the evening was rescued by the rest of the programme. Opening the concert was Borodin's Polovtsian Dances where the woodwind conjured up the feminine wiles of the slaves just as well as the brass and percussion fleshed out the menfolk, finishing in an explosive climax, going at it tongs and hammers. Later, Scheherezade was served up and as always a treat to listen to (and watch), for the wealth of the material allowing the orchestra and its individual sections and players to shine.
The evocative and atmospheric music had many highlights, all of which were served up with gusto and gumption. Alexander Souptel's leading letimotif as the temptress protagonist was all beguiling voice and song, as the character unfolds the 1001 Nights. Joined by Trainini in the butch equivalent of the theme, theirs was a duet to move the Heavens. And what more can we say about the beautiful harp accompaniment by Gulnara Mashurova, delicately cued by the wavering fingers of conductor Yoel Levi.
The unfinished Piano Concerto No 3 is next up next week. I can safely hedge my bets that it will be the Firebird to save the evening again. Sorry.
As presented by English powerhouse Stephen Hough, the pyrotechnics of the work were duly sent up, with a flurry of hands and a blaze of activity up to the close in the final third movement. However, to say that the work arrested my senses would be tantamount to a bare-faced lie, as the intermittent shut-eyes I managed to catch during the half-hour can attest to.
There was a lot of pomp and circumstance, coming across as a lot of hot air to defuse the definitely lesser quality of the work against its predecessor. In the second movement, there was an extended duet between the violin and cello as taken by Principals, Alexander Souptel and Roberto Trainini.
The former we are familiar with his effusive and exertive playing and his smiles and acknowledgment of the audience and their applause. The latter, the temporary filler of Nella Hunkin's chair, was of the "Look, Ma! No hands!" show-off school, where when afforded, he would narcisistically play single handedly with a smug look on his face.
I am too old to start to learn to appreciate new and unfamiliar things. Perhaps it is best summarised by this quote from Pretty Woman: "People's reactions to opera the first time they see it is very dramatic; they either love it or they hate it. If they love it, they will always love it. If they don't, they may learn to appreciate it, but it will never become part of their soul." Though I can safely say I doubt I will ever learn to appreciate this work in question. Just as I will unlikely start to go gaga over Lady Gaga.
And what of the charming chinoiserie-infused encore that Hough bestowed as a nod to the demographics of the audience, and perhaps a hint of his own preference for rice...
Fortunately, the evening was rescued by the rest of the programme. Opening the concert was Borodin's Polovtsian Dances where the woodwind conjured up the feminine wiles of the slaves just as well as the brass and percussion fleshed out the menfolk, finishing in an explosive climax, going at it tongs and hammers. Later, Scheherezade was served up and as always a treat to listen to (and watch), for the wealth of the material allowing the orchestra and its individual sections and players to shine.
The evocative and atmospheric music had many highlights, all of which were served up with gusto and gumption. Alexander Souptel's leading letimotif as the temptress protagonist was all beguiling voice and song, as the character unfolds the 1001 Nights. Joined by Trainini in the butch equivalent of the theme, theirs was a duet to move the Heavens. And what more can we say about the beautiful harp accompaniment by Gulnara Mashurova, delicately cued by the wavering fingers of conductor Yoel Levi.
The unfinished Piano Concerto No 3 is next up next week. I can safely hedge my bets that it will be the Firebird to save the evening again. Sorry.