Transfigured Evening
True to and living up to his name, Leonidas Kavakos was lionised by the crowds with a reception fit for a king at the close of the evening on Friday's SSO concert. The Greek violinist was soloist in Brahms' Violin Concerto and generously deigned to accord two encores to appease and reward the appreciative audience. Talk about throwing the dissenter to the lions indeed.
Such is the appeal of the violinist that the sold-out house was packed to the rafters with Circle 3 opened up for a school group. At stage calls, he was met with wolf whistles and cat calls, not quite out of place at a pop concert. How long has it been since my last SSO concert? A month or two at most? My ears may be playing tricks but the applause last evening did indeed seem unprecedented.
He was a big man and his instrument seemed comical in his hands, but the advantage of big hands on a violin player as Itzhak Perlman has opined, is that where most others would have to shift their hand position and adjust their fingering, a simple flick of the wrist would suffice for him. For all the seriousness of his demeanour, Kavakos was a sight as at times as he lapsed into physical exertions like little hops on the balls of his feet or elaborate sweeps of the bowing arm.
The work recommends itself, being one of the warhorses of the canon, but to really make a distinction between an "OK" performance and a "good" performance, everything rests on the shoulders of the violinist, for after all, the Brahms has been called a concerto "against" the violin opposed to one "for" it.
All this and more Kavakos delivered, with a reading powerful and emotional on all counts. Most mesmerising was the cadenza where the silent hall superbly amplified the sounds emanating from his violin as the glorious outpouring of music reverberated and carried upwards and outwards to fill the void.
Pity that the violinist's concentration seemed to have been affected by a spate of suppressed coughs by a man in the front row at the start of the evening. He continued playing uninterrupted, but from my seat in the second row and looking up at him, he did flinch at first and intermittently stared daggers down at the poor guy who had other eyes boring into the back of his head. To further complicate things, Kavakos perhaps may have a hypersensitive airway whereupon his allergy started up and he proceeded to give a very breathy and sniffly accompaniment to his solo part.
The first unidentified encore of the evening was not one that boasted of virtuosic pyrotechnics to wow the ears, but rather one that lent itself to the warmth of the magnificent instrument that Kavakos was playing on. From fired-up burnished tones rich in amplitude and weight to chilling and suspenseful harmonics eerily pulled out, the Stradivarius was the epitome of the sound of music. The Bach to follow was even more beautiful, not quite the standard interpretation, with some liberty in expression and phrasing, but nonetheless, breathtakingly despatched.
Judging from the response and reaction on stage, everyone was lapping up this unexpected treat. Concert master Alexander Souptel was beaming from ear to ear as usual, though one suspects he would do so even in the face of Armaggeddon. Co-Leader Lynnette Seah's pretty smile belied the nod of acknowledgment in her eyes. I personaly revere Assistant Leader Kong Zhao Hui for his art, and he seldom wears his heart on his sleeve, but this time, he rested his violin against his body and clapped along with the audience, his beady eyes following the exit of Kavakos. Chan Yoong Han was grinning like a kid in a candy store, soaking in the essence of the evening.
What an evening. What a treat.
Such is the appeal of the violinist that the sold-out house was packed to the rafters with Circle 3 opened up for a school group. At stage calls, he was met with wolf whistles and cat calls, not quite out of place at a pop concert. How long has it been since my last SSO concert? A month or two at most? My ears may be playing tricks but the applause last evening did indeed seem unprecedented.
He was a big man and his instrument seemed comical in his hands, but the advantage of big hands on a violin player as Itzhak Perlman has opined, is that where most others would have to shift their hand position and adjust their fingering, a simple flick of the wrist would suffice for him. For all the seriousness of his demeanour, Kavakos was a sight as at times as he lapsed into physical exertions like little hops on the balls of his feet or elaborate sweeps of the bowing arm.
The work recommends itself, being one of the warhorses of the canon, but to really make a distinction between an "OK" performance and a "good" performance, everything rests on the shoulders of the violinist, for after all, the Brahms has been called a concerto "against" the violin opposed to one "for" it.
All this and more Kavakos delivered, with a reading powerful and emotional on all counts. Most mesmerising was the cadenza where the silent hall superbly amplified the sounds emanating from his violin as the glorious outpouring of music reverberated and carried upwards and outwards to fill the void.
Pity that the violinist's concentration seemed to have been affected by a spate of suppressed coughs by a man in the front row at the start of the evening. He continued playing uninterrupted, but from my seat in the second row and looking up at him, he did flinch at first and intermittently stared daggers down at the poor guy who had other eyes boring into the back of his head. To further complicate things, Kavakos perhaps may have a hypersensitive airway whereupon his allergy started up and he proceeded to give a very breathy and sniffly accompaniment to his solo part.
The first unidentified encore of the evening was not one that boasted of virtuosic pyrotechnics to wow the ears, but rather one that lent itself to the warmth of the magnificent instrument that Kavakos was playing on. From fired-up burnished tones rich in amplitude and weight to chilling and suspenseful harmonics eerily pulled out, the Stradivarius was the epitome of the sound of music. The Bach to follow was even more beautiful, not quite the standard interpretation, with some liberty in expression and phrasing, but nonetheless, breathtakingly despatched.
Judging from the response and reaction on stage, everyone was lapping up this unexpected treat. Concert master Alexander Souptel was beaming from ear to ear as usual, though one suspects he would do so even in the face of Armaggeddon. Co-Leader Lynnette Seah's pretty smile belied the nod of acknowledgment in her eyes. I personaly revere Assistant Leader Kong Zhao Hui for his art, and he seldom wears his heart on his sleeve, but this time, he rested his violin against his body and clapped along with the audience, his beady eyes following the exit of Kavakos. Chan Yoong Han was grinning like a kid in a candy store, soaking in the essence of the evening.
What an evening. What a treat.