It's somewhat unfair that the Philadelphia Orchestra—by any measure one of the country's great ensembles—is situated as close as it is to New York. On the one hand, it makes it relatively easy for them to make it up and back in the same day; what they call a "run-out" concert in the orchestra world. But, that same proximity also makes it easy for us to take them for granted: We've gotten so used to seeing them here that if we happen to miss one concert, we know they'll be back again before long. Indeed, the orchestra will be here twice this month.
Such was the case on Monday night, when the Philadelphians returned to Carnegie Hall for what looked to be a fairly prosaic program of music by Smetana, Bartók, and Dvořák. I saw it on the concert calendar, and my reaction was pretty much "Eh," especially coming a day after the NYC Super Bowl. But a friend visiting from out of town called me up and enthusiastically asked if we could go, so off we went.
Fortunately, they had two things going for them: their dynamic young music director, Yannick Nézet-Séguin, who showed up wearing what looked like a midnight-blue satin jacket; and, they had the celebrated pianist Radu Lupu, who I was happy to see looking well, if a bit disheveled, after he canceled his appearance in Cleveland a few weeks earlier due to illness.
There were historical layers of meaning to Lupu's performance of Bartók's Third Piano Concerto, which came after a lush, warm reading of "The Moldau" from Smetana's Ma Vlast. Bartók wrote this concerto—his final composition—at his apartment on 57th and Eighth Avenue, just down the street from Carnegie Hall. Bartók, who was dying of leukemia, passed away in September 1945 just before finishing the orchestration. It was completed by his friend Tibor Serly: a violist in the Philadelphia Orchestra, which subsequently gave the world premiere at Carnegie the following February with pianist György Sándor.
It wasn't clear from the printed program that Lupu was aware of these facts, but nevertheless he gave a deeply thoughtful reading, leaning back on his bench like some kind of Brahmsian shaman. Lupu, who has a reputation for being one of today's more idiosyncratic pianists, here drew out all of Bartok's rich texture—particularly the central "Adagio religioso," which came across as unbelievably sad and beautiful.
The concert ended with Dvořák's Sixth Symphony, a rarely heard work from the composer's Germanic period, written while he subsisted on a stipend from the Austrian court. The first two movements were an off-putting mix of Brahmsian muddiness and Brucknerian repetition, but things picked up in the third movement "furiant," based on a Czech folk dance; unfortunately, Yannick's fiery pace caused a few of the players to fall out of sync. Everyone quickly recovered in time for the finale, with its furious race to the finish.
Musicmaking doesn't get more joyous than this, and the entire house responded with a wild standing-O that seemed to genuinely overwhelm Yannick and his players. Regardless of what we New Yorkers may think of them, the Philadelphians clearly don't take us for granted.
Yannick and the Philadelphia Orchestra will be back at Carnegie on February 21 with a program that includes Strauss, Shostakovich and Beethoven's "Eroica"; details and ticket info here. More pics at the photo page.