Above: violinist Simone Lamsma
~ Author: Oberon
Tuesday December 4th, 2018 - In one of the most exciting concerts in recent memory, tonight's New York Philharmonic program paired Britten's Violin Concerto with the Shostakovich 7th Symphony ('Leningrad'). Jaap van Zweden was on the podium, violinist Simone Lamsma was making her Philharmonic debut, the principal players of the orchestra were all vividly present and accounted for, and the stars aligned for a great night of music.
Both works are associated with war: the Passacgalia of the Britten concerto is a tribute to British soldiers who had volunteered to fight the Facists during the Spanish Civil War. Shostakovich's 7th Symphony was composed during the Nazi's siege of Leningrad which lasted for 872 days, from 1941 to 1944, resulting in enormous loss of life. In the symphony, the composer weaves in both militaristic elements and somber passages, counterbalanced by his confident belief that Leningrad would endure all the death and destruction. In the end, he was right.
This should have been my second experience of hearing Ms. Lamsma, but I had to forego her 2017 Weill Hall recital due to back problems; my fellow writer Scoresby covered that recital in my place.
Tonight, in her New York Philharmonic debut, Ms. Lamsma played the Britten - a work I had not heard previously - in a stunning performance. A tall, elegant blonde clad in a striking, bejeweled black gown, Ms. Lamsma (who hails from The Netherlands) took possession of the stage and proved as riveting to hear as to watch. I began making a mental list of concertos I want to hear her play: Barber, Prokofiev, Stravinsky, Bruch, Sibelius, Tchaikovsky, Beethoven...well, all of them, really.
Timpani and cymbal quietly introduce the Moderato con moto movement of the Britten concerto. After a moody passage, the music turns lyrical and the violin makes its entrance in a gorgeous solo passage as the winds percolate gently. Ms. Lamsma's high, silvery tones gleamed. Lustrous horns are heard, as the celli provide a rhythmical underpinning. The music develops a strutting feeling; the soloist takes a swirling downward plunge. Rhythmic vitality persists, but then calm sets in. Ms. Lamsma melting into a high-rising, achingly lovely semi-cadenza. The deep basses commence a swaying slow dance, the violins playing plushly in thirds. Plucking and glinting motifs carry the violinist to delicate heights, over the recurring timpani. With soft tones from the harp, Ms. Lamsma sustains a high final note.
The Vivace is a brisk dance, Ms. Lamsma bringing some grit to her tone. An interlude for horns and trumpets leads to a jazzy passage. The violinist plays high and soft, the piccolo and tuba team up unexpectedly, the soloist slashes her strings as the music turns big. Timpani herald a cinematic rise of tension. From this emerges a cadenza of ultra-pianissimo sounds. Things get very quiet, the violin in a simple rising scale motif.
Yearning strings and a somewhat desolate trumpet solo mark the opening of the Passacaglia, the music turning dense and foreboding. Ms. Lamsma plays almost hesitantly over viola and cello tremolos. The oboe sings poignantly over yearning strings. A fresh rhythm, a sort of cross between a bolero and a polonaise, springs up. Flute and cymbal dance briefly, then the music builds, with trumpets, only to ebb away; Ms. Lamsma's tone meshes with the piccolo. The soloist plays very fast as the music gets quite grand; the final solo passage starts low before a poignant rise, taking Ms. Lamsma to the stratosphere. At this point, I felt Britten extended the concerto's end unduly; through numerous modulations, he cannot seem to settle on a resolution. At last, a silvery trill from Ms. Lamsma floats on the air.
The soloist was enthusiastically applauded by the packed house, taking a solo bow and then returning yet again with Maestro van Zweden. I so wanted an encore, but perhaps it's the kind of concerto that nothing can follow. Hopefully, the Maestro has had a contract drawn up to bring Ms. Lamsma back...season after season.
Following the interval, Masetro van Zweden took the orchestra thru a spectacular performance of the Shostakovich 7th Symphony, 'Leningrad'. Scored for an enormous orchestra, this work contains numerous opportunities for individual players - especially among the winds - to make their mark. Robert Langevin (flute), Sherry Sylar (oboe), Anthony McGill (clarinet), and - in a long passage - Judith LeClair (bassoon) excelled, as did others who I could not zero in on from my vantage point.
The snare drum signals a march which commences with rather delicate strings and piano. In turn, this iconic motif moves from player to player, section to section, with the same determination (and traces of wit) that make Ravel's Bolero so inevitable. Following a rich string theme, the muted trumpet again takes up 'the theme', and the passing troops are led off to their unknown fate.
The second movement (Moderato - Poco allegretto) begins with a sort of semi-fugue. Sherry Sylar's oboe solo stands out, as does a passage for the bass-clarinet (Amy Zoloto) with harp.
The Adagio opens with a rather pessimistic chorale. A rich violin tutti sounds despairingly, with a distant reminder of marching troops echoing. A rather downcast but whimsical flute melody (supported by the 2nd violins). The music intensifies; the strings play: rich and profound. Then the violas take up a sort of dreamy waltz, the violins sound in heavenly unison, and the celli and basses join to magnificent effect.
After a pensive start, the finale builds, mingling feelings of despair and regret with a renewed resolve that the great city on the banks of the Neva - and its weary populace - will emerge from the horrors of war to rise again.
~ Oberon