Prokofiev, Bridge, and Dukas at Severance

Severance Hall was host to one of the most unusual programs our city has seen in recent years, consisting of two rarely played works and one repertoire staple – each of which offered sonic scenery.  Our tour guides were The Cleveland Orchestra led by music director Franz Welser-Möst.

I confess that until recently, I was unfamiliar with Prokofiev’s Sixth Symphony, knowing only the First and Fifth Symphonies well.  I rectified that by downloading a recording of the work with score from youtube, studying it repeatedly.  The Sixth is structurally looser than the Fifth and somewhat programmatic.  The work deals with Prokofiev’s impressions of life in the aftermath of World War II, or the Great Patriotic War as it was known in the Soviet Union, where it caused so much death and devastation.  Prior to beginning the work, Welser-Möst addressed the audience and pointed out that four months after the work’s premiere, Prokofiev was castigated in the state-controlled media for the ideological incorrectness of this symphony.  The government’s slapdown began a period of decline in Prokofiev’s life – a life which ended the same day as Josef Stalin’s.  Welser-Möst concluded that we could not imagine the oppressive atmosphere that artists in the Soviet Union lived under – which brought forth a murmur of sarcastic amusement from the audience.  The Sixth Symphony is structured on three longish movements, with very little genuine happiness to be heard.  The first movement opens with a sarcastic brass passage that could only have come from the pen of Prokofiev, which segues into a moderately paced contemplation of the loss Prokofiev and most Soviets must have felt at this time.  The central movement is in the same form as the fifth number in Schumann’s Kreisleriana: ABCBA – although emotionally the two pieces could not be more different.  One could also hear in parts of the brilliantly orchestrated finale how Prokofiev influenced John Williams – although I’m hardly the first person to point that out.  The performance projected the work’s emotional ambiguity – as illustrated by Prokofiev’s use of major and minor – and dynamics ranging from hushed pianissimo to a fortissimo in which the orchestra’s tone was at times strident (which suited the work) yet never ugly.  The passion of the playing was always controlled. 

Despite similar subject matter, The Sea by British composer Frank Bridge bears little resemblance to Debussy’s La Mer.  The work was first presented in Cleveland in 1923 (the American premiere) and hasn’t been heard here since.  The work’s four short movements contain some fine orchestration and interplay of themes – which are unfortunately not particularly memorable.   Welser-Most and the orchestra lavished care that reflected in the performance’s pacing and aural beauty – resulting in a pleasant 20 minutes.  In conclusion, the work, while beautiful, is worth hearing – but not that often.

Welser-Möst and the orchestra’s rendition of Dukas’ ever popular Sorcerer’s Apprentice was more than superficially brilliant.  The mysterious opening was seductively shaded.  Tempos were unusually flexible, the interplay between the plucking strings and winds deftly handled, and sections of the orchestra balanced so that one heard details often missed in recordings.  Best of all, there was nothing vulgar or condescending in this performance, which stood as proof that even the most well-worn lollipops can sound musical.