One after another, orchestras are visiting Carnegie Hall, to play two or three concerts. The Cleveland Orchestra is there now, for two concerts. Tonight’s is the second. Last night’s began with Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.
Do you remember what Robert Graves said? “The remarkable thing about Shakespeare is that he is really very good—in spite of all the people who say he is very good.” Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony is almost a cartoon. But it is one of the greatest pieces of music ever written; one of the greatest works of art ever created.
On the podium for the Clevelanders was Franz Welser-Möst, their longtime music director. He will be conducting tonight as well.
The orchestra’s Fifth was very good—reasonable, accurate, often beautiful. The second movement, Andante con moto, was especially commendable. Welser-Möst did not dawdle; he did not forget the “con moto.” The music was smooth, a study in horizontality. The strings and the woodwinds blended—or rather, they matched. Welser-Möst has a Boulezian gift for the management of sounds.
Do I have any complaints? Yes.
In the first movement, there ought to be a bristling quality, I think. Rehearsing the opening measures, James Levine said to his strings, “Burn it out; rip it off.” From the Clevelanders, this first movement was a little—temperate? Untroubled?
The second movement was smooth and lovely, as I have said. It was also, at times, a little bland. The third movement, in my opinion, ought to begin ominous, insinuating. I did not hear that last night. When the brass entered, they were a bit polite. I like them brasher.
Between the third and fourth movements, there is a suspenseful transition. It ought to be unbearable. In this performance, it was all too bearable. The finale is full of coursing C-major joy. From the Clevelanders, I wanted more uplift, more excitement.
To hear me talk, you would think the performance was bad. It certainly was not. For me, however, it was a little relaxed—modulated to a fault. Yet Franz Welser-Möst is entitled to his own view, and my respect for him is great.
Before I leave Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, I want to mention the Cleveland Orchestra’s oboe, Frank Rosenwein. The first movement includes one of the most famous oboe solos in music. Rosenwein handled it in exemplary fashion.
After intermission, we had a suite from a Janáček opera: From the House of the Dead. Our Metropolitan Opera staged this work in 2009 (the only time it has done so). In the pit was Esa-Pekka Salonen. The Clevelanders played a suite, in three movements, arranged by František Jílek, a Czech conductor who lived from 1913 to 1993. This is a good practice, arranging suites from operas and ballets. You know who does it in our own day? Manfred Honeck, Welser-Möst’s fellow Austrian, who leads the orchestra in Pittsburgh.
It is important, in Janáček, not to gild the lily. He is bold and unusual enough; you must not make him obnoxious. Welser-Möst conducted his Janáček very well. The music was clear and correct—and plenty colorful.
Last month, I reviewed Santtu-Matias Rouvali, who had conducted the New York Philharmonic. “He conducts with easy authority,” I said, “as if he weren’t doing anything, though he’s doing everything.” So it is with Franz Welser-Möst. In the Janáček, you could see no exertion from him. He was almost matter-of-fact. Yet his expertise—his knowledge of the music and his leadership of the orchestra—was formidable.
Often, concerts begin with an overture (a natural choice). Last night’s ended with one: the Leonore Overture No. 3, one of the four that Beethoven wrote for his opera—his sole opera—which he eventually called Fidelio. From Maestro Welser-Möst and his orchestra, No. 3 was measured, yes, but it was also dynamic, alive.
I had a memory of 2015, when Welser-Möst conducted Fidelio at the Salzburg Festival. Allow me to quote from my review:
. . . Welser-Möst was never less than adequate, and he had a big moment in Act II. So did Beethoven. The orchestra played another of those four overtures—the one known as Leonore No. 3—as used to be done with some regularity in Fidelio, but which is almost never done today. Here, Welser-Möst conducted his heart out, and the VPO played in like manner. They brought the house down.
By “VPO,” I meant the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra. What a thrilling experience that was, that night: the Leonore Overture No. 3, in the midst of the opera.
The Met has just completed a run of Fidelio, conducted by Susanna Mälkki. (For my review, go here.) There was no Leonore No. 3.
But there was long ago in Vienna, when Leonard Bernstein conducted the opera. In No. 3, he gave nothing less than a definition of Beethoven. Watch it here. The audience cheered for almost three minutes. Bernstein tried to stop them once and get on with the opera. They would not stop. Finally, he stopped them. Had he not, they would have gone on much longer.
Last night’s program from the Cleveland Orchestra was on the short side. I thought they might give us an encore—but no. What should the encore have been? What could it have been? I had an idea—an odd one, but not a bad one, I think: Beethoven’s Turkish March.
My write-up here has had a lot of Memory Lane. Here’s some more. In my misspent youth, I heard Eugene Ormandy conduct the Leonore Overture No. 3 and the Fifth Symphony in my hometown, Ann Arbor, Michigan. The miraculous Internet tells me it was April 15, 1977 (I was thirteen). That left an impression.
