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Gardiner conducts the LSO: A meeting of the minds over Beethoven (7 Feb 2010)
A
crowning end to a journey of shared discovery I don’t
know if you’ve seen the BBC TV programme “So you think you can dance” – I can’t
claim to be an aficionado as I’ve only seen it once – but the premise isn’t
exactly hard to grasp. A group of dancers, from different stylistic backgrounds
(modern dance, ballet, hip-hop and so on) are set the challenge of dancing in a
style that’s alien to their training. I mention it because when Sir John Eliot
Gardiner started this multi-year Beethoven symphony cycle there was definitely
the feel of the ballet star meeting the hip-hop dancer (and, not surprisingly,
there was excitement and drama aplenty from the start). Now three years in, the
cycle has reached the Ninth… And the spirit of the dance hovered
over everything. What to
pair with No 9? It’s always an intriguing proposition if you’re sticking to the
symphonies. The Fifth makes for a rather (over-)dramatic evening and can of
course upstage the main attraction; the Eighth is a nice entr’acte and works
well, but the First (as tonight) is the Alpha to the Ninth’s Omega. And far
from demonstrating how far the journey has been from 1 to 9, it superbly lays
out many of the concerns that will stay with Beethoven for the length of the
voyage: the ability to sustain tension, the dovetailing of lines to draw out
the drama (Minuet and Trio of No 1), the theatricality of gesture (the finale
of No 1), a willingness to push back the boundaries of the form as inherited
from Haydn and, already, a confidence in his handling of the orchestra. The LSO
and Gardiner have found a particularly invigorating common ground in their
approach to these nine extraordinary scores. When they embarked on the cycle,
the LSO/Haitink cycle was still in the memory, but this was the turning over of
a new page, and an exploration of a sonority and performance style that had a
genuine sense of shared discovery written all over it: almost vibrato-less
strings (with divided fiddles), hard sticks for the timpani, wonderfully punchy
brass playing, and – not exactly a stylistic decision – some gloriously
flavoursome playing by the magnificent wind section. Add to that Gardiner’s own
Monteverdi Choir – a truly crack ensemble which has the punch of a group twice
the size – and you had laid out in front of you the ideal tools for a
performance virtually guaranteed to move, as well as thrill. Tempi
were swift, but generally not hard-driven: the Scherzo of the Ninth plunged
forward, only to be outdone by the Trio: burbling, light on its toes, and as
swift as an arrow. But when languour was required – as in the slow movement –
Gardiner was happy to relax a little. Like a walk through woods that gradually
lead you upwards without your realising it, he built the movement with a
wonderfully sure touch, each harmonic lift feeling entirely natural and yet at
the same time just a little surprising. The
finale was beautifully judged – and come the vocal section, Gardiner’s love of
stage-management had the choir standing voice by voice: first the basses to
respond to the soloist, then the tenors and altos, and finally the sopranos:
inconsequential, but strangely powerful. The solo quartet, while not putting “a
girdle round the earth”, had a nice internal balance of northern and southern
hemispheres: a Welsh soprano, a Dutch mezzo, an Australian tenor and a South
African bass. And they worked well together. The
finale was constructed with a sure sense of its destination, and the
high-octane singing of the magnificent Monteverdi Choir guaranteed that the
work ended on a truly clarion note. This has been quite a journey, and, I
suspect, has inspired this notoriously hard-headed ensemble. The shared bows
hinted at more than respect for this famously demanding conductor. How about
some Haydn next? JAMES JOLLY
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