Brahms and Janáček hit the mark, though lacklustre Lalo fails to score.

Concert Hall, Sydney Opera House

September 1, 2014

This was a curious program but like any David Robertson musical menu, intriguing. Fundamentally back to front, it began with a symphony that conductors don’t like to finish with (as it ends quietly) and ended with a showstopper suite going by the name of Sinfonietta.

In between was a thing neither Symphony (despite its name), not quite concerto, despite the prominence of its solo part. This however was how concerts were often done in the distant past, and as always with Robertson there were subtle links between the sonorities of Brahms and Lalo, the bohemianisms of Brahms and Janáček, and the nationalist elements of all three.

As in his reading of Brahms’ Second Symphony a couple of weeks ago, Robertson proved an outstanding Brahmsian, alert to balance and phrasing, yet fundamentally determined to serve the dramatic structure of this multifaceted work. Less obviously ‘about’ things than its predecessor, Brahms Three is interpretively up for grabs – whether you hear nature or pilgrims or whatever. Here one was able to wallow in the rich sonics of the SSO and the emotional tug of a fine interpretation.

The first movement was full of Viennese schwung, warm strings and burnished brass and winds, and rose to a series of most impressive climaxes. The second movement, contrasted nutty brown wind with deep dark strings, capturing what I always feel is an autumnal mood – whatever else Brahms may have had in mind.

The elegant third movement with a Bohemian feel that Dvořák would have been proud of, was more measured than on some occasions, allowing for maximum emotional weight. The beauty of Robertson’s sublime interpretation transcended even the sound of the man expiring of a bronchial complaint directly behind me.

The finale was lovingly crafted to emerge from almost nothing into a blaze of light, it’s Elgarian themes radiant on violins cello and horns. If you get the chance, do go and hear David Robertson’s Brahms – it’s really first rate!

Éduard Lalo’s Symphonie Espagnole is an odd fish. A bit of a tub-thumper, it’s slightly heavily scored with a hint of the weightiness Brahms but without the Austrian’s supreme mastery of texture. It’s tuneful enough, but lacks true symphonic cohesion. Its main purpose, to my mind, is to serve as a vehicle for a violin virtuoso.

The Siberian violinist Vadim Repin was the soloist here and I’m afraid proved something of a disappointment. He had the volume and most of the tone, but lacked the vital showmanship to make the work truly take flight. He was also intonationally insecure rather too many times for comfort. Still, he warmed up a bit in the more rapid fire second movement scherzando and the following intermezzo, and the rondo finale was fun (and well played by both soloist and orchestra).

Janáček‘s Sinfonietta may be the most original and individual work of the 1920s. It’s a five-movement suite representing aspects of his home town and born out of Czech national pride following World War I. The extraordinary harmonies and rhythmic movement of the opening fanfares never fail to thrill and stir the soul with their barbaric sonorities. Robertson brought out the snarling grotesqueries here and in The Castle movement that followed. The four superb trombones and tuba were magnificent, verging on the joyously flatulent, throughout. The atmospherics, laden with mystery and distant muted fanfares were engrossing.

The Queen’s Monastery movement swept along with almost cinematic romanticism (and a radiant oboe solo) before the extraordinary central outburst, superbly played by brass wind and strings alike. The Street bustled along with that ‘oh, so catchy’ motoric theme that never stops or changes. Finally, the warmth of The Town Hall gave way to the apocalyptic yet uplifting final fanfares. First-class playing, stylish conducting and what a glorious noise!