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Selected and annotated by Malcolm MacDonald BBC Symphony Concerts The BBC concert at Queen’s Hall on February 21st, conducted by Sir Adrian Boult, introduced the famous Piano Concerto in C by Busoni, a work in five movements, the last a choral finale, with Egon Petri as soloist [1]. In this case Busoni’s urge and restlessness for exploration of the unknown resulted in an extraordinary and completely satisfying masterpiece. From the point of view of invention, structure and variety of orchestration, the concerto is complete. Despite the concerto’s vast length, it never sags. Both Petri and Boult deserved the ovation which followed the close of the work. The evening was one of highlights in orchestral playing. A performance of Beethoven’s No 8 Symphony was one of few outstanding performances which we remember by reason of its verve, tenderness and the subtle manner in which the composer’s ironical humour was revealed without being underlined. Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No 2 in F was spiritedly played with some distinguished solo playing. The concert at the Queen’s Hall on February 28th, conducted by Ansermet, was a challenge to the most sensitive type of orchestral virtuosity, for two of the works - Debussy’s La mer and Elgar’s Enigma variations - were performed by Toscanini and the New York Philharmonic Orchestra at Queen’s Hall during the recent visit, and many agree that Toscanini achieved his greatest triumph in Debussy’s La Mer. The BBC performance fell little short of that by the New York Philharmonic. The actual difference in the two performances is very similar to the differences in the temperament of two actors, both of whom essay the same role. Similarly, the technique of the Enigma performance lacked nothing by way of mere orchestral playing. Differences were a matter of personality. Ansermet’s version had neither the improvisatory or abrupt manner of Elgar when conducting his own work. After AJ Jaeger’s death, the Nimrod variation (named after him) had a tenderness and expansiveness under Richter which even Elgar himself never achieved. In this way Ansermet is at a disadvantage. His intimate knowledge of the work was obvious enough. Szigeti gave a very individual performance of the Brahms Violin Concerto. The concert opened with a short work for brass by Gabrieli, the great Italian who may not unjustly be regarded as the father of modern German music. HB, Musical opinion, April 1934, p623 [1] This was its first broadcast in England, but third English performance: Busoni himself had conducted it, with Petri as soloist, at the 1909 Newcastle Festival, and the following year had introduced it to London, when the pianist was Mark Hambourg. BBC Concerts It is a mystery why Brahms never wrote anything greater than his D minor piano concerto. Had he chosen to recast it as a symphony for orchestra and piano after his later experience as a writer of symphonies, what a masterpiece he would have made of it. Even now its supremacy lies in the unyielding quality of his thoughts, particularly in the first movement, one of the most powerful pieces of music ever written, where the blows fall with shattering effect, and yet without making any apparent effect on the object assailed, for the movement is unmistakably the triumph of defeat. There is no more tragic document in the realm of music than the first movement of this concerto; it is worthy of Euripides. Unless a performance is keyed to the peculiar quality of its tragic pitch, we do not get Brahms. At the BBC performance at Queens Hall on February 14th with Schnabel as soloist and Boult as conductor, the blows in the first movement did not fall either fast or thick enough, which is not to infer that we needed more noise, though had the woodwind been doubled in this work the performance would have been improved. The slow movement was made arid and sleepy, which is not quite its character. More unity of purpose was achieved in the final Rondo, whose flow and colour though less turgid than the first movement is yet more difficult to negotiate because of the diversity and agitation of its rhythm. For instance, the episodical fugato almost caught the strings napping. But the Rondo did travel and the impression was thoroughly Brahmsian. Vaughan Williams’s orchestral pageant Job, founded on Blake’s illustrations to the Book of Job, appropriately followed the Brahms Concerto. It was magnificently performed and enthusiastically applauded. HB, Musical opinion, March 1934, p528 Russian music Russian music, when the Romanovs were tottering to a fall, was described as an art bearing the burdens and sorrows of Satan. The Russian composer of today, like a child, seems to be shrieking with laughter, perhaps with a subconscious desire to impress the world that he is so very full of joy: he is so happy that he could burst that drum! Let us hope that the present great exhilaration will not give way under the strain. Three unfamiliar Russian works were recently broadcast by the BBC Orchestra: a suite of five portraits drawn from Prokofiev’s opera, The Gambler, Myaskovsky’s Symphony No 7, and a suite of four pieces from Shostakovich’s opera, The Nose [1]. The first and third of these works are obviously of the pictorial and descriptive type; but Prokofiev’s portraits, though cleverly drawn in romantic setting and with brilliant orchestration, excite no wonder. It is quits another matter with Shostakovich’s suite, The Nose. The Colonel wakes up to find his nose missing, and his anger while seeking it is most cleverly drawn. It is orchestral diablerie of the highest order and suggested with a light hand. Parry Jones helped to complete the picture by his clever singing as the valet: he is lying in bed, drunk, warbling a parody of love, whilst his master is searching vainly for the missing nose. While Myaskovsky is an older man and holds an appointment at the Moscow conservatoire, his Symphony No.7 also strikes a new note. The marked success of these works owed much to the brilliant conducting of Nicolai Malko. Bruno Walter, on January 31st, conducted the first performance in England of Prokofiev’s Piano concerto No 5, in four movements, at the BBC Symphony Concert at Queen s Hall. The composer was the soloist. Prokofiev never lacks brilliance: his stimulating and obviously boyish enjoyment in every job he undertakes makes his music highly individual, and there is something impish in his refusal to end movements in an obvious way. On the other hand, by La main gauche, Musical opinion, March 1934, p 494 [1] All probably UK premieres. 990306 Havergal Brian - the official website HOME
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