Above: The Vienna Philharmonic @ Carnegie Hall; performance photo by Jennifer Taylor
Author: Ben Weaver
March 3rd thru 5th, 2023 - On three consecutive days, the Vienna Philharmonic played at Carnegie Hall. The intrepid Ben Weaver attended all three concerts, and he has filed the following report:
"With the world gradually reopening post-Covid shut-down, guest orchestras are beginning to return to American concert halls. The Vienna Philharmonic made its way back to Carnegie Hall for three concerts in early March, under the baton of Christian Thielemann, with programs of familiar German romantics.
With touring orchestras, taking into consideration travel, jet lag, and short stays, one has to be cognizant of fatigue that can affect playing. And sadly it seems to have impacted the Viennese quite a bit, with many uncoordinated entrances. Or perhaps it’s just not a thing Maestro Thielemann cares much about. And though there were many moments of extraordinary music-making, overall the visit was somewhat disappointing; the orchestra often seemed tired and bored. But the audience - all three concerts were sold out - did not mind, greeting each piece with hardy standing ovations.
Above: performance photo by Jennifer Taylor
The strongest of the concerts was the first, comprising of Arnold Schoenberg’s Verklärte Nacht, Op. 4 and Richard Strauss’ Eine Alpensinfonie, Op. 64.
Schoenberg’s romantic tone poem, composed in 1899, was orchestrated by the composer for a string orchestra, and here the Viennese strings (a huge ensemble) were magnificent. From the first notes, a gloomy opening on high strings, Thielemann and the VPO traversed the full range emotions of Schoenberg’s tale about a woman who, on a walk through a moonlit forest with her lover, confesses to that she is pregnant with her former lover’s child. The orchestra seethed with fear and anticipation, you could collectively feel everyone holding their breath. The lover’s response is that of understanding as he proclaims that he wishes to raise the child as his own. As the music shifted from darkness to light, the strings of the Vienna Philharmonic were glowing; their rich yet transparent sound enveloping the concert hall.
Strauss’ Eine Alpensinfonie, his last tone poem anticipates so much music that would come in his operas like Der Rosenkavalier and Die Frau one Schatten, was a shattering second half of the concert, allowing the full orchestra to shine. Strauss composed Alpensinfonie between 1911-15 and, being an avid hiker and climber himself, he depicted a journey up and down a mountain in the Alps. The tone poem’s evocative opening notes bring the majestic mountain into view, as if you are looking up at its peak, and see sky and clouds which you are about to start a journey towards. The following 22 sections describe the journey, from a stop At the Waterfall (Movement VI) and a Glacier (Movement XI), to the Rising of the Mists (XV), and a shattering Thunder and Tempest (XIX), where Strauss utilizes wind and thunder machines (always so much fun to watch and hear), the composer creates entire sound-worlds that were arguably never heard before. We are a long way off from Beethoven’s Pastoral. Thielemann and Vienna Philharmonic have been performing this piece together for many years (there is a superb recording on Deutsche Gramophone from 2000), and they did not disappoint this evening. From the most delicate shimmering violins to the ear-drum shattering climaxes by the full ensemble (the sound remained always remarkably transparent), the floor literally shook.
The second concert, featuring Mendelssohn and Brahms, was sadly the most disappointing of the three. Both the Hebrides Overture, Op. 26 - one of Mendelssohn’s most majestic works, which impressed even Wagner - and the Symphony No. 3 in A-minor, Op. 56: 'Scottish', were dull. Mendelssohn suffered the most; what should have been light and exciting was lifeless and deary. Perhaps it was Thielemann’s desire to treat Mendelssohn as if he was a fragile figurine that led to pallid playing from the orchestra. But there was no wit, no humor, no energy to either work. Brahms fared a little better, but only a little. The bigger ensemble and more muscular writing brought some extra oomph to the proceedings, but Brahms’ Symphony No. 2 in D major, Op. 73 is his gentlest symphony, and it was perhaps the wrong evening for gentleness. The wind sections did some extraordinary work here - in fact, the winds excelled in every concert. But on the whole the entire evening was pretty and boring.
Above: Maestro Thielemann and the Vienna Philharmonic; photo by Jennifer Taylor
Bruckner’s Symphony No. 8 in C-minor - composed 1884-87 - fared better at the final concert, but was still slightly pallid. It is Bruckner’s longest composition and seems to have been his favorite. Maestro Thielemann seems to excel in bigger, more forceful music; elegance was not his forte in these visits. Bruckner’s first movement was wonderfully shaped, its columns of sound rising gloriously from the stage. The Scherzo had a superb balance between drama and gentleness. The tempo was measured, but not dragging. The Adagio is perhaps Bruckner’s most glorious slow movement, supremely beautiful melodies rising and falling like breaths. The performance was beautifully played, yet cold. The Finale was appropriate thunderous - Thielemann remained frozen when it ended, and the audience did too...at least for a few seconds. Then some jerk yelled out “Bravo!”, breaking the tension. Maestro Thielemann was visibly upset, his hands jerking in frustration (since we can’t see his face, perhaps he was joking; but I would not blame him if he was fully serious. I don’t know if this is widespread, or if it’s a feature of American audiences - the inability to let the music come to a full stop and then just taking the moment in - but it can be infuriating.)
The Viennese played an encore at every concert, and it's worth noting that Maestro Thielemann (above) conducted every work from memory."
All photos by Jennifer Taylor, courtesy of Carnegie Hall.
~ Ben Weaver