FULL SOUND, EMPTY HOUSE
VSO makes powerful statement
It was not supposed to end like this.
Recently, the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra began an ambitious festival celebrating 250 years of Beethoven. But, after only a few events, the orchestra cancelled live performances for the foreseeable future.
It was an understandable and wise decision.
After what must have been some intensely confusing days, the VSO made a bold call: To take two classic Beethoven works, the Fourth Piano Concerto and the Sixth Symphony and play them at the Orpheum March 15 as a livestream broadcast to interested listeners. (View the concert at facebook. com/VSOrchestra)
I was invited to sit in rather splendid isolation in the empty theatre to watch. Downtown Vancouver was by no means deserted on this bright afternoon, but it certainly was subdued.
And although I’m no stranger to the backstage world of classical music, it did feel decidedly odd to slink in by the stage door and wend my way through the Orpheum’s unglamorous nether regions.
The players were assembled in formal orchestra black. At 2 p.m. on the dot, maestro Otto Tausk was prepared to give the downbeat. The tech guys weren’t quite ready, resulting in a few extra-long moments of pent-up tension.
This was a unique experience and the orchestra members were well aware of its significance.
Finally, pianist Saleem Ashkar began the especially intimate opening measures of the concerto, a solo piano that was vulnerable in the emptiness.
In a few moments, it was time for the orchestra to join in and the familiar, though still magical, concerto was truly underway — though with a certain distracted fragility.
By the recapitulation of the first movement, it was apparent that conductor, soloist and orchestra were all completely focused on the shared task of bringing Beethoven’s concerto to life. Circumstances were irrelevant. This was all about the music.
I’m a fan of Tausk’s approach to classical-era repertoire, because he brings a 21st century awareness of early 19th century performance practices to his interpretations.
To that end, he arranged the orchestra in a manner that Beethoven himself would have recognized: first violins on the left; second violins on the right; trumpets next to their percussion cousin, the timpani; and a phalanx of seven double basses across the back of the stage.
This was no quest for novelty. There were immediate acoustic benefits from a rich, very present bass sound. For example, in the concerto’s second movement — a sort of argument between a choleric orchestra and a more sanguine soloist — the empty hall added an extra measure of resonance to the orchestral outbursts.
The reading of the Pastoral Symphony was no less persuasive, dozens of musicians playing with chamber music finesse and a truly collaborative spirit under the leadership of a fine conductor.
A lot has happened in the last few weeks. In the great scheme of things, the cancellation of classical concerts is just a small part of our new, complicated reality. But as the performance unfolded, I realized that this was the first time that I had really considered the implications of how my life as a critic with a routine of two to three concerts a week has changed. It was a sobering realization. Before the event, I had quick chats with both Tausk and the VSO’s new chief administrator, Angela Elster. With this exceptional event out of the way, Tausk plans to fly back to his family in The Netherlands; Elster has the unenviable responsibility of keeping the VSO’s home fires burning.
Both were adamant about the power of the great classics to speak to us in difficult times. The entirely unanticipated finale to the Beethoven festival said loudly and clearly: “This is who we are. This is what we do. This is what matters.”