who: met orchestra, james levine (cond.), lang lang (solo)
what: stravinsky's petroushka and brahms' piano concerto no. 1 (d minor)
where: carnegie hall
when: thursday, may 21, 8 p.m.
sneaking in the back gives me the sensation of being a phantom, a nobody. we stood for the fist scene or so of petroushka, in the center back, behind the press section. the near-silence, neighbors quaking and gaping at extraneous sounds, heightened the already-present reverie (reverence, would you say?). it was as if i was seeing an old familiar cartoon in vibrant technicolor: suddenly folk tunes (trumpet, clarinet, melancholy english horn) sprang from the underlying texture...the brass truly outdid themselves tonight. this orchestra has an absolutely hypnotic way of executing a score. levine is masterful, without a doubt, but what is most magical is that the orchestra leads him. like most collaborative pieces with diaghilev and the ballet russe, there is a certain snicker and wink to the ending, as if stravinsky fell off that particular horse, an ADD, musically collaging folk hero onto his next quest mid-voyage.
after glimpsing the petites luxes of patron life (nuts! free wine! coffee! tea! and idle chatter with the other supremely rich!) during intermission, we assumed our spots in the back (i perched on a stool) for lang lang's performance of brahms' first piano concerto in d minor.
ok-yes, fair readers, i tend to gush with trite praise...lang lang's first movement - all ozawa-esque hair a-flying, big diving arms, stern pedal stopming - all seemed to me a bit superstar contrived. he's famous, brilliant, etc and not for nothing: he puts on a show. before the second movement, as i braced myself for a semi-slaughter, the orchestra took a collective breath and drifted into a dreamscape of bittersweet romance tinged with melancholy - as acknowledged in the program notes, brahms wrote the adagio for clara schumann; both were devestated following robert's suicide attempt, subsequent hospitalization and eventual death. he pined harmonically, waxing contrapuntally poetic, exploiting the enharmonic possibilities of leading tones - a certain method of seduction that would've had me hooked.
still, despite all of the gorgeous playing between soloist and orchestra, i wish that lang lang had tempered the sf accents more; witholding (clearly) takes infinetely more patience and control, akin to masking any possible tell in poker. the third and final movement, a rambunctious rondo, was clean and brilliant, yet somehow left me cold. great playing all around - the orchestra seemed to enjoy a good roll in the hay with symphonic repertoire...
and oh, those acoustics. the winds and brass were spot on, and the timpani magically aligned with lang lang at all the right moments.
after glimpsing the petites luxes of patron life (nuts! free wine! coffee! tea! and idle chatter with the other supremely rich!) during intermission, we assumed our spots in the back (i perched on a stool) for lang lang's performance of brahms' first piano concerto in d minor.
ok-yes, fair readers, i tend to gush with trite praise...lang lang's first movement - all ozawa-esque hair a-flying, big diving arms, stern pedal stopming - all seemed to me a bit superstar contrived. he's famous, brilliant, etc and not for nothing: he puts on a show. before the second movement, as i braced myself for a semi-slaughter, the orchestra took a collective breath and drifted into a dreamscape of bittersweet romance tinged with melancholy - as acknowledged in the program notes, brahms wrote the adagio for clara schumann; both were devestated following robert's suicide attempt, subsequent hospitalization and eventual death. he pined harmonically, waxing contrapuntally poetic, exploiting the enharmonic possibilities of leading tones - a certain method of seduction that would've had me hooked.
still, despite all of the gorgeous playing between soloist and orchestra, i wish that lang lang had tempered the sf accents more; witholding (clearly) takes infinetely more patience and control, akin to masking any possible tell in poker. the third and final movement, a rambunctious rondo, was clean and brilliant, yet somehow left me cold. great playing all around - the orchestra seemed to enjoy a good roll in the hay with symphonic repertoire...
and oh, those acoustics. the winds and brass were spot on, and the timpani magically aligned with lang lang at all the right moments.
brava, tutti.
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