Pierre Boulez Saal
Symphony no.1 in D major, D 82
Symphony no.3 in D major, D 200
Symphony no.2 in B-flat major,
D 125
Staatskapelle Berlin
Daniel Barenboim (conductor)
As part of the Pierre Boulez
Saal’s focus on the music of Schubert, Daniel Barenboim and the Staatskapelle
Berlin will be performing two cycles of his symphonies. This, with the first
three, was the opening concert of the first. It was the first time I had heard
an orchestral performance in the hall; I am delighted to report that the
acoustic – and indeed the musical – results were just as estimable as they had
been with chamber or solo forces. Barenboim used a relatively small orchestra
(strings 8.6.4.3.2), whose warm sound veritably filled the hall, without
remotely overwhelming it.
The First Symphony is far too
little heard in the concert hall. It may not be a ‘masterpiece’, but it is a
lovely piece, whatever the occasional stiffness of form. (For any instance of
that, there will be several anticipations of the later Schubert.) The Adagio introduction to the first
movement offered all the warmth and grandeur of Barenboim’s Mozart (most
recently, in my case, his Haffner Symphony). There was much of Haydn,
too, in its harmonic mystery, likewise in the joy that ensued in the exposition
proper. The second subject smiled, as did I, the grace one heard unmistakeably
Schubertian. And what an orchestral sound: deep, rich, yet capable of the
greatest, ‘natural’ refinement and transparency. Barenboim treated the onset of
the development with great drama, with all the seriousness one would expect
from the later symphonies. Alas, there was serious disruption to proceedings
from one audience member loudly – and at length – telling another to turn off
his tablet. The recapitulation thus proved doubly welcome, its majesty again
recalling late Mozart, its second subject as lovely as ever. In the Andante, Mozartian grace, married to a more rural, ‘Austrian’ bucolicism
(already just a hint of Bruckner), vied with countervailing darker paths, full,
although not too full, of Romantic promise and mystery. A slow tempo, at least
by standards fashionable today, permitted some gorgeous, heart-stopping moments
fully to register. The Minuet, one-to-a-bar, had one foot in the ballroom, one
in the concert hall; it was almost, at times, as if it were an operatic
representation of the dance. The trio relaxed and lingered just enough. In the
finale, we heard an ideal balance between weight and wit, its harmonic
foundations and melodic impishness. Delightful!
The Third Symphony might, on
paper, have seemed to offer a little too much D major in the first half; not a
bit of it, though. The grandeur of its
opening chord sounded as if to outdo, or to advance upon, that of its
predecessor. Then, of course, the music took quite a different path, more
musically luxuriant, perhaps. The first movement proved just as sheerly enjoyable
as, say, in Beecham’s celebrated recording, but with more overt harmonic
grounding. Barenboim, now conducting from memory, would often simply stand back
and let his players play. There was no dragging, quite rightly, in the Allegretto. Its unassuming charm seemed
once again to evoked the Austrian countryside, the dancing led by outstanding
woodwind soloists. The Minuet – surely a scherzo in all but name – was vigorous
yet gracious; again, its lilting trio relaxed to just the right degree, as if paying
homage to Mozart. The finale seemed keener to pay homage to Haydn, albeit in a
thoroughly Schubertian spirit. It was as witty and as serious as I can recall. As the Leipzig Gewandhaus motto has
it, Res severa verum gaudium.
For the second half and the
Second Symphony, Barenboim turned the orchestra around. Whereas previously, he
and the front desks had been closest to me, now they were on the other side,
him facing me. It is good to see full use being made of the space of the salle modulable to offer different
perspectives, both visual and aural (although such is the acoustic, the aural
difference was far less than it would have been in most halls). The opening
majesty of the first movement was of a different, swifter order, fully in
keeping, so it seemed, with the different quality of the material, both in that
movement and in the symphony as a whole. There is arguably a greater formal dynamism
here, certainly something of a grander scale; so too did it sound in
performance, closer to Beethoven, especially during the development, although
still quite distinct. It was an especial joy to be seated so close to the
woodwind for the Harmoniemusik. The
transparency of the Staatskapelle Berlin’s sound permitted the Andante second movement to unfold with
love, testament to the still often underrated virtues of Classical variation
form. Darker passages were not undersold; nor were they turned into something
they were not. Other variations quite simply charmed the socks off this
listener. The surprises of the Minuet
were relished, its trio again the perfect counterweight. The finale, fast in a
way that Mozart rarely is but Haydn often is, once again sounded just ‘right’.
Its vigour occasionally looked forward to Bruckner, but remained ‘itself’, a
true Schubertian delight. I greatly look forward to the next instalment.
