Spokane Symphony
Friday, March 30, Opera House
Does the combination of the highly romantic music of Robert Schumann and the presence of a Spanish pianist suggest something a bit on the wild side? If so, you would have been surprised, as I was, at Alicia de Larrocha's aristocratic performance of Schumann's Piano Concerto with the Spokane Symphony Friday.
De Larrocha, now 72, has been playing the piano in public longer than many in Friday's audience have been alive. Her performance proved two important things to me. First, experience counts. Her grasp of Schumann's Concerto was as secure as any I've ever heard. The technical acumen of her playing produced great clarity, even in spots such as the opening flourish of the finale which in other hands (some of them far younger) sounds blurry.
Second, there are many different ways of interpreting a masterpiece. Schumann's music is a weird mixture of the intimate and flamboyant, the poised and the nearly-out-of-control. De Larrocha's Schumann seems downright classical, aristocratically elegant. She makes that approach work. (Remember, "experience counts"). Under her fingers, Schumann's piano figuration dances around the first movement's clarinet and oboe solos and responds playfully to the cellos' ardent melody in the Intermezzo.
But where, I wondered, was the thrill in Schumann's headlong rush to the end of the first movement? And what about the jolt I usually experience in the piano's stubborn insistence on the waltz rhythm in the finale when the orchestra breaks into a march? I missed the tingle of those moments. But when a great artist such as De Larrocha plays in a way counter to my expectations, it does cause me to think hard about the music we are sharing. And for that, along with the beautiful control she brought to her playing, I am grateful.
If rushes and jolts were missing from the Schumann Concerto, they were present in abundance in Smetana's symphonic poem "Moldau," with which conductor Fabio opened the concert and in Bartok's Concerto for Orchestra with which he closed the program.
Mechetti drew the course of the River Moldau with photographic accuracy: its origins in a quiet flute dialog, its broadening course with the addition of strings, its flowing passage by a scene of peasant dancing, and its thundering surge through the chasm of St. John's Rapids.
The orchestra gave an virtuoso performance of Bartok's Concerto for Orchestra. Most impressive were the solo woodwinds throughout the work, the brass in the chorale ending of the first movements and their anguished outbursts in the Elegy.
There were unruly moments in the fugal parts of the finale and some questionable intonation and balance in the woodwinds when the section plays together, rather than as soloists. None these problems kept Mechetti and the orchestra from producing a performance that crackled with intensity and a highly emotional variety of moods.