A heartfelt ovation at the king of festivals
ARTS WRITER Lucerne Festival
For years, the classical music world has attempted to bring cohesion to its many loose strands and lure audiences into its seasons and its festivals with opaque themes. You know the sort of thing – this year we’ll be exploring “identity” or“memory” or“inter sectionalism ”.
Actually, I think I made the last one up, but you get the picture. It’s as if the idea of world-class musicians playing some of the greatest pieces ever written simply isn’t enough to make us part with our cash.
While Lucerne, the undisputed king of music festivals, isn’t averse to this trend (this year’s theme is “childhood”), you get the sense that it is a mere label that comes second to a serious appreciation of music. The first two days of the festival, taking place at the architecturally and acoustically perfect KKL on the lakeside, was a mixture of indisputable triumphs and minor disappointments. Stravinsky’s
Dumbarton Oaks, a clever but emotionally unengaging slice of pseudo-americana, seemed like a feat of precision engineering as performed by the Lucerne Festival Orchestra, but was not quite rapturously received.
The atmosphere intensified, however, with the arrival of Lang Lang for Mozart’s Piano Concerto in C Minor. The superstar pianist entered with a fair amount of millennial swagger, dressed in a suit that seemed to have leapt from the pages of one of those fashion magazines you can only find in high-end bookshops.
In fact, perhaps mindful of the serious Lucerne crowd, Lang Lang toned down the theatrical gestures he has become known for (the fourth wall was only occasionally broken by the odd half smile) to give a performance of shimmering delicacy – his subtlety and poise contrasting beautifully with the robust string section.
However, it’s a testament to the strength of the musicianship at Lucerne that Lang Lang wasn’t even the highlight of the evening. Stravinsky’s The Firebird, a piece that I have seen ruined by odd pacing and insufficient contrast, was magnificently delivered under the aegis of Riccardo Chailly, the Lucerne Festival Orchestra’s conductor (and music director).
Every emotional button was pressed as Chailly guided his army of players from notes of foreboding to swirling colours of mysticism and a magnificently thunderous conclusion which approached something little short of exultation. It was an exciting, exhilarating end to the evening.
While low-key showmanship and technical excellence are central to Lucerne’s programme, I was also struck by their social commitment. In a charming concert from their Orchestra Camp for children, I noticed – hallelujah! – genuine diversity, and they have worked hard to attract children and teenagers from a range of backgrounds (special mention to the North Kensington Nucleo Project). The afternoon was one of musical exuberance, although sometimes a real delicacy – notably when tackling Shostakovich – was achieved.
The second evening’s main concert featured the Chamber Orchestra of Europe, under Bernard Haitink. After a nicely textured performance of Mendelssohn’s The Fair Melusine, we moved on to his frequently played Violin Concerto. Soloist Alina Ibragimova seemed to melt into her instrument, writhing rhythmically and capturing the restlessness and the fury which the piece demands, while treating the high notes as dark thoughts which needed to be dispelled.
The second half presented more of a challenge. Schubert’s Symphony No. 8 felt weighed down by its ambition. Haitink, 89 years old and aided by a walking stick, sometimes struggled to harness its many contrasts and the final movement lacked gusto.
Still, there was a lot of love in the room for this elder statesman. The Swiss, should you need reminding, are polite to a fault and this was reflected in their audience etiquette. Unlike us trashy Brits, they don’t clap between movements or leap from their seats and applaud like hungry sea lions every time someone blows their nose. Haitink, however, received a fiveminute standing ovation. Not even Lang Lang could manage that.