Manacorda and Hadelich with the Cleveland Orchestra at Severance

This weekend’s Cleveland Orchestra concerts featured guest conductor Antonello Manacorda along with the welcome return of one of the greatest violinists of our time, Augustin Hadelich.  The orchestra is fresh from its triumphant performances at Carnegie Hall, where they received rave reviews. 

The concert opened with Mendelssohn’s popular Violin Concerto in E minor, Op. 64.  This is a composition that balances Classical rigor with Romantic expression, with all three movements linked via bridge passages.  Nearly every violinist of note has performed and recorded this concerto.  Having heard Hadelich several times, I was looking forward to his interpretation and was not disappointed.  Violinist and orchestra delivered a performance which was intimate and emphasized the work’s lyrical aspects.  One highlight was in the central movement where Hadelich’s soaring lyricism held the audience’s rapt attention.  The finale eschewed all shallow virtuosity while not sacrificing brilliance – it was swift without sounding rushed.  A standing ovation was followed by an encore, a bluesy piece that was at once familiar and unfamiliar.

 

Following intermission, Manacorda returned to lead the orchestra in Schoenberg’s Chamber Symphony No. 2.  I’m familiar with this work only through recordings and will confess that I have not assimilated it enough to be able to comment on the performance except that the work was delivered with an appropriate starkness.

The closing work was Schubert’s famed Symphony No. 8 in B minor, D. 759, by Schubert – the so-called “Unfinished” Symphony.  Manacorda began the work with stillness, as if it was arising from nothing, making this all too familiar work a mystery once more.  As the introduction segued to the main theme, I was stuck once again by what an unconventional opening movement this is.  Manacorda is one of those rare musicians who understands the importance of silence, and those moments of stillness served to make the movement’s turbulent episodes all the more dramatic – even traumatic.  For those who follow such matters, Manacorda observed the repeat.  The second movement featured a relatively flowing tempo, with the melody in the high violins beautifully floating over the strings.  Again, Manacorda took care to keep the orchestra at a true pianissimo when the score indicated it.  The concert ended in a contemplative and serene mood – far removed from our stressful era.

 

Beethoven Piano Concertos at Severance – a potpourri of pianists

For months, Cleveland area classical music lovers had been looking forward to a cycle of Beethoven’s five piano concertos, plus the Triple concerto – all featuring pianist Igor Levit and under the direction of Music Director Franz Welser-Möst.  Speculation was that the cycle was to be recorded for later release. 

A few weeks ago, Cleveland Orchestra patrons received this message from Franz Welser-Möst, who has been undergoing treatment for cancer: "I am terribly sorry that I can’t be with you for the upcoming concerts in November. The side effects of the immunotherapy don’t allow me to travel right now. But, I know you will never-the-less, with or without me, enjoy the wonderful playing of your Orchestra. I look forward immensely to return to make great music for you in 2025. I miss you. Thank you!"

We wish Franz a speedy and complete recovery.  Cleveland Orchestra Associate Conductor Daniel Reith stepped up to lead all the programs.

Shortly after Welser-Möst’s announcement, Igor Levit withdrew from the series.

Five pianists stepped in to perform the piano concertos: Orion Weiss, in the Triple Concerto alongside violinist Augustin Hadelich and cellist Julia Hagen; Sir Stephen Hough, Garrick Ohlsson, Minsoo Sohn, and Yunchan Lim in the remaining concertos. 

Orion Weiss is a Cleveland area native – in fact he grew up just a few blocks from my grandmother’s home in Lyndhurst.  I’ve seen him perform several times dating back to when he was a student at the Cleveland Institute of Music.  I’ve also seen Augustin Hadelich perform several times, including a staggeringly brilliant performance of Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto last year.  Beethoven’s Triple Concerto is not a showpiece – it was written for one of the composer’s royal piano pupils who was probably not very advanced.  The greatest technical challenges are reserved for the cellist, who must play in the instrument’s upper registers – which Julia Hagan did with accuracy, aplomb, and musicality.  Hadelich’s joy in performing this concerto – which contains chamber music within it – was palpable.  Weiss brought sparks to the piano part, and all three soloists performed with a sense of communing – something much needed after a difficult and divisive week.  Daniel Reith and the orchestra provided an appropriately scaled accompaniment. 

Soloists and orchestra following the Triple Concerto.

Following intermission pianist Sir Stephen Hough took to the stage to perform Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 3 in C minor, Op. 37.  I must confess that this is far from my favorite piano concerto, even among Beethoven’s concerti.  After hearing Mozart’s concerto in the same key, Beethoven exclaimed to a friend “We shall never have an idea such as that!”  Aside from key signature, there is nothing comparable about the two works.  But Hough brought something special to the piece, a defiant quality that most pianists too often filter out, which hints at the Beethoven that is to come.  The pianist was creative in his deployment of inner voices, with some daring pedaling in the slow movement which allowed harmonies to blend in the way that the composer intended – but which many pianists in their never-ending quest for clarity are loath to allow.  Hough immediately launched from the hushed Largo to the final Rondo so abruptly that it startled some in the audience – which would no doubt have delighted Beethoven.  The orchestra’s contribution was equally bold and decisive. 

Hough and the orchestra acknowledging applause.

Garrick Ohlsson was the soloist for Beethoven’s even numbered concertos.  Unfortunately, near-constant coughing from one audience member behind and to my left (I was in Row T, keyboard side) disrupted my concentration.  The Second Concerto (which was actually written first but published second) was given a lovely, chamber-like quality by Reith and the orchestra.  Despite a minor kerfuffle in the opening movement, Ohlsson’s performance was one of bounce, poetry, and wit.  Despite its mostly lyrical nature, pianists will tell you the Fourth concerto is a beast to play.  I would swear I heard Ohlsson play it at Severance about 20 years ago.  The performance was a model of poise, clarity, and musicality by both pianist and orchestra.  One feature I noticed was Ohlsson’s careful attention to trills and ornaments – each integrated into the piece.  Both performances were enthusiastically received, and the pianist gifted the audience with an appropriate encore: the slow movement from Beethoven’s “Pathetique” Sonata.

Ohlsson after the G major Concerto

The cycle was rounded out with Beethoven’s First Concerto (which was actually composed after the second) and the Fifth Concerto – the so-called “Emperor.”

Beethoven’s First Concerto must have been quite shocking the first time it was heard in Vienna toward the end of the 18^th Century.  In terms of pianism, it goes far beyond anything Mozart dared – with rapid passagework, arpeggios, constant pianistic gear-shifting, and even a glissando.  Minsoo Sohn, who I’d never heard of, was the soloist.  The outer movements were brisk and propulsive, with the pianist employing a wider dynamic range than would have been possible on the pianos of the time.  In the opening movement, Sohn chose the most extroverted of the composer’s three cadenzas, said to be in the spirit of the Beethoven’s own famed improvisations.  The central movement was given chamber music clarity.  The performance was very warmly received, and the pianist played a lovely encore: the Aria from J. S. Bach’s Goldberg Variations – with a rare sense of repose and tasteful embellishments in the repeats.

Sohn’s pupil, Yunchan Lim – who won the Van Cliburn competition last year – was soloist in the “Emperor” concerto.  It hardly needs pointing out that Beethoven did not choose the imperial name for this concerto – simply referring to it as a Concerto in E-flat major for piano and orchestra.  Unfortunately, the name has led to an interpretive approach which too often brings to the work a sense of pomposity and portentousness – as if it was intended for Henry VIII in the late stages of his life.  Lim had none of that.  His treatment of the work was within the classical mode, with an opening movement notable for its lean, lithe approach and brisk tempos.  The central movement was, by contrast, a bit heavier than it needed to be; but this was forgotten when Lim gracefully segued into the final Rondo – delivered with an almost balletic sense of rhythm.  Technically, Lim’s performance was unimpeachable, although some purists may have been offended by the pianist’s penchant for moving several ground bass notes an octave lower than written – beyond the limits of Beethoven’s own keyboard.  The bulk of the audience was highly enthusiastic – myself included.  For his encore, perhaps as a tribute to his teacher, Lim returned to the Goldberg Variations, turning in a reflective rendition of the work’s 13^th Variation.  At a time when much of the country – and the world – is on edge, it was a welcome moment of shared relaxation.

Lim and company following the “Emperor” Concerto.

In conclusion, the substitute pianists were all wonderful.  But Levit’s cancellation irks me.  I can't imagine Arthur Rubinstein would have ever cancelled a concert because the conductor had to withdraw.  In fact, in over 70 years as a pianist, Rubinstein almost never canceled - he even played two concerts in one day when his manager accidentally double-booked him.  The only exception was when he was in his 80s and came down with Shingles.  As for the past two weeks, the loss was Levit’s – not the audience’s.

Sorry, couldn't resist.

Willful Dvořák and stunning Tchaikovsky with Inkinen and Hadelich at Severance

Saturday evening’s concert at Severance featured guest conductor Pietari Inkinen making his Cleveland Orchestra debut, along with returning violinist Augustin Hadelich. 

The concert opened with Dvořák’s Othello Overture, Op. 93.  It’s not one of the composer’s well-known works, despite the familiar subject matter of Shakespeare’s play. Composed in 1892, it wasn’t performed in Cleveland until a century later – a noteworthy omission for an orchestra that has long championed the unfamiliar.  The chief problem is an overabundance of ideas, intended to depict specific scenarios within the plot, which are presented but not developed.  I was left with no desire to investigate this music more fully.

Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto, Op. 35 is, of course, another matter.  It’s a work which combines Tchaikovsky’s knack for memorable tunes, great passion, a dramatic through-line, secure architecture, and idiomatic writing which tests the limits of instrument and instrumentalist.  The composer was assisted by his probable lover Iosif Kotek, a gifted violinist who advised the composer on aspects of the violin part.  He was the initial dedicatee of the work until Tchaikovsky, cautious about his personal reputation, switched the dedication to Leopold Auer – who was initially uninterested in the piece.  Eduard Hanslick’s notoriously hostile review, in which he ranted that the music “stinks to the ear” and that “the violin was not played but beaten black and blue” has gone down as one of the most wrong-headed musical criticisms of all time.  Soloist Hadelich is no stranger to Cleveland.  He turned in a memorable performance of Dvořák’s Violin Concerto six years ago.  Hadelich has everything needed for Tchaikovsky: an immaculately superlative technique, a vocal – almost throaty – tone, plenty of temperament, and the inherent taste to know just how much to stretch a melody or push the dynamics.  All these gifts were put into the service of musical virtuosity and a bona-fide masterpiece – no doubt the finest of Tchaikovsky’s four concertos.  Hadelich was ably assisted by Inkinen and the orchestra, but one felt this was mostly the soloist’s conception.  A rousing ovation followed, and Hadelich gifted the audience with an encore – the name of the work was not announced, but it sounded like it was composed by Fritz Kreisler. 

Iosif Kotek with Tchaikovsky in 1877.

Following intermission, Inkinen returned to lead the orchestra in Dvořák’s Symphony No. 8 in G major, Op. 88 – and this performance was problematic indeed.  First was the issue of tempo relationships.  The opening movement was overdriven so the merriment of the music sounded hard driven – as if the music was on cocaine.  The second movement adagio dragged, while the allegretto was missing the Mendelssohnian lightness inherent in the writing.  The finale featured a general pulling apart of the structure so that the final accelerando was anti-climactic.  Further, there was little of the transparency and attention to balance one is accustomed to hearing from this orchestra.  I was far from the only person to feel this way.  An unusually large number of patrons left after the second and third movements.

Still, the concert was worth attending for the Tchaikovsky. 

Blossom and baseball

Daniel and I had an eventful weekend which included a Cleveland Orchestra concert at Blossom on Saturday and a Cleveland Indians game on Sunday. Baseball and classical music have little in common, but this weekend was an exception: the baseball game was essentially over by the end of the second inning; and we could have left Blossom at intermission and been none the poorer. As major league baseball is amply covered by the mass media, I’ll skip that and concentrate on the concert. 

Violinist Augustin Hadelich joined guest conductor Cristian Macelaru and the orchestra for the opening work on the program, Dvořák’s Violin Concerto. I’d never heard Hadelich before, either in concert or in recordings. He has a lovely, sweet tone, and moreover, one which projects to the back rows without becoming harsh – hardly an easy accomplishment at Blossom. Further, Hadelich has an absolutely secure technique that was put to the service of the music – he overcame each obstacle with ease and nailed each treacherously high note spot-on. Tempos were well chosen, rubati were expressive but never obtrusive, and the work's lyricism was meltingly conveyed. Macelaru and the orchestra provided a fine accompaniment. 

 A few thoughts about Dvořák’s Violin Concerto: it’s exceptionally well written for the instrument. It’s one thing to be able to create compelling musical thought – as Beethoven did in his violin concerto. It’s another thing to be able to translate that thought into musical notation which is suited for the chosen instrument – an area where Beethoven fell short but where Dvořák succeeds. Dvořák was an apt violinist himself, so the quality of the instrumental writing is no surprise. But what’s most interesting is that, despite his own skills, Dvořák sought out the advice of Joseph Joachim – the finest violinist of his day – who suggested revisions to the solo part and the orchestration, which Dvořák adopted. 

 The performance was warmly received and Hadelich gifted the audience with an encore that brought the shell down: Paganini’s 24th caprice, a cornucopia of violinistic virtuosity. 

Holst’s The Planets, so popular it could almost be considered Crossover, followed intermission. To be honest, the chance to hear The Planets in concert was my main reason for buying tickets. But the performance was disappointing on many levels. In all the years of attending Cleveland Orchestra concerts – at Blossom, at Severance, and on the road – I’ve never heard more fluffs from the brass section (temperature may have been a factor as the evening was rather cool). The work’s fortissimo sections were not merely loud but noisy – with all that implies. Balances between sections were off throughout. The contrasts one hears in this works’ best renditions was lacking – never once did I hear the orchestra play a true pianissimo. This spoiled two movements: The Winged Messenger of Mercury was curiously heavy footed; and Neptune’s choral ending, which is supposed to be subtle enough that the audience isn’t sure if the work is over, ended with a sudden cutoff and lacked all mystery. I know the orchestra is capable of better than this, so primary blame rests with Macelaru. He should not be invited to return.