April
22, 2011
By Mark
Satola
A dozen years ago, conductor Kurt Masur spoke
of essentializing his repertoire to a core of works that he considered
masterpieces, which spoke to audiences around the world regardless of language
or culture.
Now, at age 83, Masur continues to concentrate
on the most seminal compositions from the Western concert tradition, with
luminous results.
Thursday night's Cleveland Orchestra concert,
with music by Mendelssohn, Beethoven and Brahms, could have been a routine
exercise, a meat-potato-veg affair, but Masur transformed it with the wisdom of
a lifetime's immersion in the works.
Conducting without a score in Mendelssohn's
"Hebrides Overture," Masur set out a contemplative pace that
highlighted the music's evocation of a misty Scottish seascape. It also allowed
for some lovely shaping of phrases from the strings.
Fire and drive were there when called for, but
what remains in memory is the almost Wagnerian soundscape that Masur crafted,
full of subtle mystery.
French pianist David Fray made his Severance
Hall debut at the concert with Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat,
which was mostly written before the concerto known as No. 1. But the composer
tinkered with it for the better part of a decade before allowing it to appear
in print.
Fray, who is 30 years old, is a pianist of
serious countenance and intense concentration. He sits low and close to the
keyboard and mostly eschews demonstrative gesture. His tone is crystalline and
fine, and has a tonal halo around it that reminds one of Robert Casadesus at
the height of his powers.
Fray's Beethoven was fleet, witty and conversational.
Pianist and orchestra traded bon mots in a spirit of fun, and even when the
orchestra fluffed its entry at the end of the first movement's cadenza, it felt
more like a Gallic smile and shrug than a serious offense.
Brahms' music could never be described as
lovable, but it is always breathtaking for its unexcelled mastery of form,
expression and orchestration.
Sir Edward Elgar, himself a brilliant
orchestrator and master of form, was moved to confess, "When I look at the
Third Symphony of Brahms, I feel like a tinker."
In the wrong hands, Brahms' Symphony No. 4 in
E minor can be a dreadful chore, but Masur made of it an odyssey of heroic
proportions.
His attention to detail let every felicity of
Brahms' orchestration shine, especially in the beautiful and profound second
movement, where Masur's relaxed pace allowed for a kaleidoscopic range of
shadings and shapings. The violas were especially fine in their singing of the
consolatory theme toward the movement's end.
Cleveland audiences can be overly eager to
rise to their feet at a concert's end, but Thursday night's ovation was genuine
and heartfelt. Masur, called repeatedly to the stage, seemed moved by its
fervor -- and, in a simple gesture of appreciation, put his hand to his heart
more than once.
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