Japanese cellist enthrals with Elgar concerto
Concluding a particularly busy and artistically rewarding few months for the Royal Bangkok Symphony Orchestra (RBSO), the concert given by Thailand’s premier classical ensemble at the Thailand Cultural Centre last Saturday was one of the most energetic and inspired musical performances I’ve attended.
Opening with Mozart’s brilliant overture to the opera The Marriage Of Figaro, Belgian maestro Michel Tilkin made it clear from the very first downbeat that he was committed to conducting a highly charged night of supreme music making. The arabesque flurries of hushed strings and bassoons which start this scintillating work instantly cast a mood of concentration and focus within this special, great hall out of which the explosive entry of trumpets and timpani set into motion the rollercoaster journey of excitement and joy, which this magical work invariably achieves.
Japanese cello superstar Hitomi Niikura took to the stage for her much-anticipated performance of perhaps the most treasured of showpieces for her instrument — Edward Elgar’s elegiac Cello Concerto In E Minor. An entirely different kind of music full of the deepest reflection and personal introspection, this concerto engages the listener at a highly emotional level. It is Elgar’s somewhat more morose compositional voice, a reaction to the state of the world in the aftermath of World War I, but has an irresistible magnetism throughout which draws an audience into an electrifying collective experience.
The responsibility of the soloist to bring out the expressive qualities of the piece is considerable and Niikura rose to the challenge admirably in a performance which was polished, powerful and refined. The fine C.F. Landolfi instrument she played spoke with a rich, penetrating tone — especially in the lower to mid-range registers — and this was to the benefit of her sound projection in such a big hall.
The famous opening cello solo chords which start the work were perfectly in tune, setting a dramatic atmosphere almost immediately. The viola section introduced the hushed, contrasting legato pattern, which sets off the main body of the first movement with focused precision, and Niikura continued this haunting theme as the first movement unfolded with controlled poise.
The allegro molto second movement followed with a breathtaking show of technical prowess by the soloist, supported by immaculately timed accompaniment from Tilkin and the RBSO. Rapid moto perpetuo semiquaver runs up and down the cello fingerboard were dispatched with stunning accuracy by Niikura, whilst equally impressive agility was much in evidence for the quick pizzicato sequence at the end. For this bravura movement, she chose an ambitious tempo, perhaps a little faster than usual, but the overall ensemble was so tight that the audience gave an immediate round of applause to show their appreciation.
The adagio which followed requires an entirely different side of a player’s technique — the ability to communicate in the quietest of dynamics, coupled with careful bow control. She cast a captivating spell with the most tender phrasing imaginable in this somewhat more cheerful B-flat major lullaby. The fast finale brought the soloist back into the realm of pyrotechnics, finishing with a return to the concerto’s gripping opening spread chords. A capacity crowd at the TCC was privileged to witness this engaging performance.
César Franck’s Symphony In D Minor was played with passion and exuberance by the RBSO after the intermission, a most interesting choice of programming as this unique work in the repertoire has not been played frequently this century. In past decades it certainly was a main staple of any eminent orchestra’s library in Europe and the US, and all of the revered maestros of the 20th century such as Bernstein, Klemperer, Karajan and Furtwängler had to prove themselves as first class interpreters of the work, every bit as much as they were expected to do with the symphonies of Beethoven, Brahms or Schubert.
And this wasn’t only in the concert hall, but also in the studio during the golden age of recording. Furtwängler’s live January 1945 recording with the Vienna Philharmonic is historical and especially noteworthy — it overflows with imagination, and even terror, in the loudest passages. Franck himself stated that: “I risked a great deal with this piece, but the next time I shall risk even more!” Indeed, it is easy to hear the riveting drama and danger under Furtwängler’s direction, but that generation of iconic conductors has passed. It takes moving contemporary interpretations such as that rendered by Tilkin and the RBSO to remind us what a simply incredible composition this genuinely is.
Franck lived and worked his entire professional life in Paris. His mother was German and his father Belgian, which may explain his curious combining of occasionally Wagnerian outbursts with rather more suave Gallic elements of style. Wagner famously stated that the art of composition is the art of transition and Franck adopted this compositional mindset as a church organist, spending thousands of hours in Parisian organ lofts exploring the possibilities of extended chromaticism and endless modulations through different keys.
Incredible elasticity with regards to tempo fluctuations is required and Tilkin directed the RBSO skilfully through these many changes which progressed with a cinematic quality. When the orchestra was on full throttle it sounded like a big cathedral organ, such was the density of orchestration which Tilkin brought out from the combined instrument sections. The level of energy that he generated was awe inspiring, similar to Furtwängler’s approach, and the audience responded obligingly with rapturous applause after every movement.