PRICELESS STRADIVARIUS IN MASTERFUL HANDS

he rich tonality of D major was the order of the day at the Royal Bangkok Symphony Orchestra’s latest concert last week at the Thailand Cultural Centre, with the mighty dual pillars of the Brahms’ Violin Concerto and Sibelius’ Symphony No.2 comprising the two halves of a beautifully presented concert. Sensational Japanese violinist Mayuko Kamio captivated the hall with a rendition of the Brahms concerto which will remain long in the memory, whilst newly appointed RBSO music director Michel Tilkin displayed an assured ease with his new orchestra in a central work of the symphonic canon.

Born in 1986, Kamio achieved her highest accolade in 2007 by winning the coveted Gold Medal at the International Tchaikovsky Competition, but had also previously been the youngest ever winner of the Yehudi Menuhin International Violin Competition in 1998. Her prize then was a solo performance with the legendary Lord Menuhin himself conducting, and during Kamio’s immaculate performance with the RBSO one was reminded of the former great violinist’s strong association with this warhorse. His benchmark 1957 recording with the dream team of Berlin Philharmonic and Rudolf Kempe was by no means the only time Menuhin recorded the work, but its rock-solid projection on the one hand, and quicksilver delivery of fiendish, rapid fire passage work on the other, were both traits that Kamio likewise brought to her interpretation with admirable assurance.

The 1731 “Rubinoff” Stradivarius on which she was performing was sweet and delicate in the quiet, high registers, yet magnificently robust and powerful in the furious multiple- stopped chords. Composed in 1878, this concerto, more than any before it, requires of a soloist an extraordinary bodily elasticity and finger athleticism quite beyond the norm. The left-hand stretches needed for intervals of a 10th in third position; the lightning fast arpeggiations which leap up and down the fingerboard and across the four strings; the ultra- smooth bel canto lines which soar above the orchestral texture — all of these involve a level of technical mastery and kinaesthetic awareness which truly puts the stamp of authority on any player who produces the solo part convincingly in performance.

Equally important in these matters is of course also the quality of the bow being used — it must be immediately responsive to the minutest changes of speed and pressure, whilst also being sturdy enough for the gypsy inspired acrobatics of the last movement in particular. On this occasion, an exquisite Pierre Simon bow was the perfect counterpart to Kamio’s Strad.

The mighty “Joachim” cadenza of the first movement was delivered with a searing precision, the soloist commanding complete attention and admiration from the audience as it came to a close. The spotlight then moved to principal oboist Damrih Banavitayakit for the opening of the Adagio. Well known to Bangkokian music aficionados for many a year, his delectable playing once again captivated all present in the TCC in one of the instrument’s best loved orchestral solos. Tilkin’s pacing of this slow but intricately constructed movement was well managed, again allowing Kamio all the time she needed to fully explore the phrasing possibilities of this sublime music.

Following an explosive and riveting finale, numerous curtain calls were rewarded with a spectacular encore — Paganini’s Caprice No.24 In A Minor. As she dispatched with fluid ease what the great Ruggiero Ricci would have described as “knuckle crunching” pyrotechnics, the iconic theme and eleven variations flashed by with an astonishing sequence of violinistic bravura — flying spiccato; bariolage string crossings; the theme in lower register octaves (with spot-on intonation); exacting chromatic scales in the upper register ; semiquaver scales in thirds and tenths; triple stopped chords; and of course Paganini’s favourite daredevil technique — rapid left hand pizzicato. Pure, unadulterated technique for its own sake.

After the intermission, the audience was treated to Sibelius’ Symphony No.2. Sibelius once described what is still his best-known symphony as “a confession of the soul”. Deeply profound on an almost spiritual level, this passionate work is a fine match for Tilkin’s emotional temperament and grasp of grand, archlike symphonic canvas.

Swathes of sumptuous sound filled all corners of the TCC — from the opening soothing pulsations of tutti strings to massive brass climaxes of luxuriant grandeur; from sweeping woodwind flurries to fruity pizzicato from the back-desk violins.

There is a most subtle and modernistic process of thematic unfolding in the mind of Sibelius, despite the overtly late Romantic idiom of the soundscape, and Tilkin had clearly prepared the various tempo fluctuations carefully within the overall structure. This is particularly essential during the pivotal poco accelerando transition into the joyous Finale, where unison Viotti bowing in the strings must synchronise seamlessly with strident dotted punctuations in alternating pairs of French horns.

Safely delivered into the idyllic world of the last movement, Tilkin and RBSO revelled in the composer’s simplistic, yet mesmerising, expression of pure nationalistic joy.