I attended three concerts while on the European mainland last week, four if you count the impromptu buskers, two accordionists, outside St Mary’s Basilica in Kraków’s Old Town. (I know “serious” music is not everybody’s cup of tea, but indulge me.) I paused to hear Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, the last movement of Vivaldi’s Summer, which you might be forgiven for mistaking for autumn, if not winter, and then the Alla Turca from the Mozart A major piano sonata K.331. I thought, they’re terribly good, so in a way I wasn’t surprised to hear them again the following night in the Sala Koncertowa Filharmonii, a lovely hall, about the size of the Glasgow City Halls, which happened to be directly across the road beside my hotel. There is a wonderful freemasonry about live classical music, all across the world. You enter a concert hall, and immediately feel right at home.
Maciej Zimka and Wieslaw Ochwat. They were joined by mezzosoprano Magdalena Kulig, and bass Piotr Lempa, for a concert of arrangements of music by Szymanowski and Mahler. Rather a minority interest, I guess, and indeed when I bought my ticket I noticed the audience was thin on the ground. In the event, we all sat up on the stage, maybe about sixty of us, and the performers faced us with their back to the beautiful auditorium. It worked well and, consummate musicians as they were, they gave everything. The Mahler, two Kindertotenlieder and two Rückert-Lieder, worked very well with an accordion accompaniment. I thought, “So that’s what Mahler’s all about!” The accordion is a very expressive instrument, just how expressive, I came to realise when the Dunblane Chamber Orchestra accompanied the remarkable Ryan Corbett. And I also remember hearing Benjamin Britten’s Lachrymae for solo viola accompanied, not by an orchestra, but by an accordion, and finally “getting” it.
In Berlin the following Saturday I heard the Berlin Philharmonic, in the Philharmonie Halle, on Herbert von Karajan Strasse. The Philharmonie Großer Saal is a very large hall, bigger I would say than Glasgow’s Royal Concert Hall, yet it was a sell-out. I found myself wondering if the RSNO in Glasgow could have sold out the concert hall with a concert consisting of Prokofiev’s Symphonic Concerto for Cello and Orchestra, followed by Schoenberg’s Pelleas und Melisande. The cellist, Alisa Weilerstein, was magnificent. As an encore she played the Sarabande from Bach’s Third Cello Suite. After the interval the Berlin Phil played Pelleas with total commitment. What an orchestra.
And on the Sunday afternoon I was again in the neighbourhood, taking a stroll around the Tiergarten, and chanced to notice people congregating outside the hall on Herbert von Karajan Strasse. I went in. Yes, there was a concert shortly to commence, but, alas, a sell-out. I went back outside, ran into a lady trying to sell on her ticket, bought it, and snuck in.
This was one of a series of Populäre Konzerte, given by the Philharmonie Sinfonie Orchestra of Berlin. Another sell-out. This time I was on the other side of the hall, behind the orchestra and choir, and facing the conductor, one Stanley Dodds, I gather of Canadian and Australian provenance who, at least from a distance bore an uncanny resemblance to Sir Alexander Gibson, who dominated Scottish classical music throughout the latter half of the twentieth century. The orchestra certainly played a lot of “lollipops”, starting with Verdi’s Triumphal March from Aida. The choir was extraordinarily good. Such power.
Next up, a Holst planet: Jupiter. I have to say this was the least successful rendition of the evening. I like to think I’m open to hearing English music performed by overseas orchestras. They often get rid of all the timeworn barnacles and rediscover the essence of the music. But I had a sense here that they didn’t really “get it”. It was a play-through. I’ve heard it said that Karajan couldn’t stand the Planets. Fake news, for all I know.
Next up, Rachmaninov’s Second Piano Concerto, played most beautifully by Gabriele Strata. We were treated to a delightful Chopin encore.
After the interval, the little heard Camille Saint-Saens „La Muse et le Poète“ for violin, cello, and orchestra. We certainly weren’t being short-changed for lovely music. Then, three pieces from Edvard Krieg’s Peer Gynt – Morgenstimmung (a sigh went through the audience as the famous flute solo commenced), Anitras Tanz, and In the Hall of the Mountain King.
I confess at this moment it crossed my mind to slip out quietly, because the two remaining pieces were two movements from Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana, and Ravel’s Bolero. I’m not sure if I would mind if I never heard either of these pieces again, but I was quite keen to hear the choir once more in the Orff, and they were certainly magnificent. And well done to the side drummer, for sustaining concentration in the Bolero.
Is there a qualitative difference between attending a concert in mainland Europe, and back home? The atmosphere in the concert hall is certainly intensely familiar. I suppose, as here, the audience is somewhat grey-haired. I’m sure Glasgow would have had just as much difficulty as Kraków had, in attracting an audience for Szymanowski and Mahler with accordionists filling in for an orchestra.
And it’s evident that there is even on the continent a need to play concerts after the fashion of the Boston Pops. Still, I’m not sure how much time the Berlin Phil devotes to film music, or “gaming” music, or other crossover genres that are becoming increasingly common over here. At the end of the day, I’m profoundly impressed that they can sell out Philharmonie Halle performing Arnold Schoenberg.
jamescalumcampbell 