The Cleveland Orchestra hosted the return of guest conductor Jakub Hrůša and the Cleveland debut of cellist Sheku Kanneh-Mason this past weekend. The repertoire featured ranged from the unfamiliar to the slightly familiar – something of a pattern this season.
The concert opened with the Ballade in A minor, Op. 33 by
British composer Samuel
Coleridge-Taylor. The
work, composed in 1898, marked the professional conducting debut of the young
man who was born out of wedlock into one of London’s poorest neighborhoods in
1875. The Ballade is in the mid-Romantic
style of Tchaikovsky and Dvořák – with similar orchestration. Hrůša and the orchestra contributed a
performance marked by sensible tempi and technical polish. As I’d never heard this music before, I can’t
compare it to any other performances or recordings.
Elgar’s
Cello Concerto was initially a flop when it was premiered
in 1919. The work’s failure, the result
of an unrehearsed performance, deeply wounded the composer (not for the first
time in history, as Rachmaninoff’s First Symphony suffered the same fate as
conducted by a drunken Alexander Glazunov).
The concerto did not achieve notability until the 1960s when Jaqueline
du Pré began championing the piece – but still it’s not a repertoire
staple. To be sure, the concerto is a
stark, challenging work. Composed in
the aftermath of a serious illness and during the First World War, it features
moments of soaring lyricism contrasted with an almost agonized temperament – a
world away from the same composer’s Pomp and Circumstance marches or even the
Enigma Variations.
Sheku Kanneh-Mason became a sensation in 2018 when he
played at the wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle – a televised event
seen by some two billion people. At the
time I was stuck by the beauty of Kanneh-Mason’s playing and surety of his
technique. Needless to say, anyone who
can play with such serenity and finish in front of so many demonstrates the
quality of grace under pressure. To the
Elgar Concerto, Kanneh-Mason brought impeccable technique, variety of tonal
shadings, and an ample dynamic range -
all put in service to the music. Hrůša
and the orchestra collaborated with an intensity of expression that matched the
soloist. The performance was followed by
a very enthusiastic and sustained ovation, which led Kanneh-Mason to gift the
audience with an encore: a brief contemplative piece which was unfamiliar to
me.
I first heard Dvořák’s
Sixth Symphony as a
teenager, listening to a scratchy 78rpm album of the work found in my
grandmother’s basement as played by the Cleveland Orchestra under Erich
Leinsdorf. Aside from the third movement
Scherzo, a delightful Furiant characterized by alternating two-beat and
three-beat measures and surprise cadences, I found the work unmemorable. But I was only about 16 years old, and my
musical ideas were not fully formed – if they ever are. I’ve heard the work several times over the
years, and while there are worthy passages in every movement, along with fine
orchestration, I find the work does not exceed the sum of its parts the way the
composer’s last three Symphonies do. Hrůša
led the opening movement in an expansive manner, with dashes of orchestral
color that revealed the work’s rustic character. The work’s second movement Agagio was serene
and soulful, with lovely woodwind playing.
The Furiant went at a bouncing tempo that was, well, furious, with the movement’s
tricky rhythms tossed-off impeccably – an example of brilliant orchestra
playing that resulted in an audible “whoo!” from a member of the audience. Following on that, the finale insinuated
itself into the proceedings with merriment until an unbuttoned, declamatory
coda that, as they say, brought the house down.
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