Tag Archives: Lera Auerbach

RSNO / Sondergard

Caird Hall, Dundee

In December of 2023, a very colourful RSNO programme began with Icarus, a concert piece extracted from the Symphony No 1, Chimera, by Lera Auerbach, which the composer was at the Glasgow performance to hear.

Some 18 months later, Music Director Thomas Sondergard has programmed the complete work and the surprise is that this was its UK Premiere, because it was first performed back in 2006 and turns out to be every bit as colourful as that single section suggested.

One of its many fascinating characteristics is the inclusion of a theremin in the orchestra, very much integrated into the sound of the strings, and played with startling precision by Charlie Draper, from a place at the back of the first violins. It is less a solo instrument than an additional texture, but there are plenty front desk solos sprinkled through the seven-movement work, and particularly from orchestra leader Maya Iwabuchi.

As that structure suggests, Chimera is not a conventional symphony, but it is of symphonic scale in its instrumentation and in the way its development is always engaging. Percussion, tuned and untuned, is crucial to the tonal palette, and so is the brass, with a lovely swell of sound from the trombones early on and a fine solo for muted trumpet. Although the piece sounds very much of the present era, it has no shortage of attractive tunes sprinkled through it, and if its musical narrative is not especially clear – as the composer’s own programme note almost concedes – the flow of ideas is very seductive.

This concert began with a more familiar work that is surely among Chimera’s antecedents – Debussy’s Prelude a l’apres-midi d’un faune. If it is a showpiece for an orchestra’s first flute, the RSNO’s Katherine Bryan resisted any temptation to overstate the opening bars, and Sondergard made sure every detail of the score was heard in a wonderfully atmospheric reading that the fine acoustic of Dundee’s big hall enhanced.

The featured soloist of the evening was the RSNO’s Artist-in-Residence this season, Randall Goosby, playing Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto. Of the four main repertoire classical concertos for his instrument, a strong case could be made that it is even finer than those of Beethoven, Brahms and Bruch, and this measured, unflashy performance made that argument eloquently.

Goosby’s quiet first entry intimated that this was a collaboration and even his cadenzas were quite restrained, and not in a bad way. In fact it was the ensemble approach to the central slow movement that was the highlight, when the soloist seemed to be pushing the tempo and the RSNO trumpets and strings were in delicious conversation.

The violinist’s encore was some bluesy fiddle from the pen of Coleridge-Taylor Perkinson, and even that was played without superfluous flamboyance.

Keith Bruce

Picture by Martin Shields

BBC SSO / Böhm

Ayr Town Hall

So many times in the past, a programme by the BBC SSO geared primarily for its Glasgow City Halls’ home has either proved unsuitable for its repeat in Ayr, or is downscaled to suit the acoustical constraints of the smaller venue. This programme, however, was already of perfect dimensions and may even have benefitted more from the intimate warmth this bijou municipal venue favours. 

The larger-scored of the works – Prokofiev’s feverishly sweet Violin Concerto No 2 and Schubert’s crystalline Fifth Symphony – are hardly symbols of orchestral brute force. Instead, Prokofiev’s concerto, played here by the characterful Dutch-born violinist Rosanne Philippens, pits a zestful protagonist against a mutable kaleidoscopic spray of orchestral colour, its spiced delicacies only marginally threatened by the irksome persistence of the bass drum. Schubert’s Fifth looks back to Beethoven and Mozart, lithe and cheery, softened by the composer’s instinctive lyrical genius.

The young Austro-Spanish conductor Teresa Riveiro Böhm was in many ways a refreshing presence on the rostrum. A few years ago she spent time at the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland  on a Leverhulme Conducting Fellowship that included mentorship via the BBC SSO, and has recently been appointed associate conductor at Welsh National Opera. On this latest evidence she was a visibly safe pair of hands, clear and precise with a decisive spring in her step. 

That certainly helped energise the Prokofiev, which was rhythmically catching and where conductor and soloist shared a mutual spark. Philippens was the prominent driving force, her fiery outer movements dancing to the music’s sardonic pleasures, contrasted in turn by the bittersweet tensions of the central Andante. Böhm’s handling of the orchestral balance wasn’t always as acute as it could have been, some of the most sensitive delights lost to what seemed a textural free-for-all. Philippens endorsed her dazzling persona with a Romanian folk-inspired encore by Enescu. 

Böhm’s Schubert did her far greater justice. Elegance and crispness underpinned her vision, as well as a far greater control of motivic interaction as the directional force. The slow movement may have underplayed Schubert’s prescribed “con moto”, but there was ample poetic soul in the lingering, lyrical lines to give it meaning and bearing. It was the expressive heart of a performance whose opening and closing Allegros harnessed natural, life-giving energy, and whose Menuetto was as naturally breezy as it was tightly disciplined.

Both works alternated with refreshing curiosities by female composers. The opener was by Bacewicz, her Divertimento for string orchestra, written four years before her death in 1965. Its combination of beguiling modernism, as influenced by fellow Polish composer Krzysztof Penderecki, with the pragmatic austerity of, say, Bartok or Hindemith, had clearly reached a point of magical synthesis by this stage in her life. The SSO strings captured that well in an incisive performance, clinically assertive in the outer movements, conjuring up an air of unworldly suspension in the central Adagio.

The Schubert was prefaced by the UK premiere of Lera Auerbach’s Eterniday (a linguistic elision of “eternity” and day”), which the American composer wrote in 2010 in response to the loss of her sketches the previous year in a fire at her New York studio. Formatted like a Baroque concert grosso, the central solo quintet vying with the larger surrounding ripieno, it represents, according to the composer, “something everlasting and fragile, yet blended together into one”.

Sure enough, the sound world is outwardly translucent with a heated density countering its natural inclination to float away into the ether. There’s drama in the series of fearsome, coruscating crescendos, abruptly shut off as they reach deafening point to reveal awesome punctuating silences. The impact of a glistening celeste diametrically opposed to the menacing cipher of the bass drum adds a signature surprise. 

Like everything else on Friday, it was of a scale that blossomed in this compact venue. 

Ken Walton