Thielemann Saga on ionarts |
Renée Fleming exerted utmost control over her voice, situated far back at the throat, which sounded partly mannered, but mostly tender. It was hard to understand a word of what she sang, that way, and the high notes were no longer as soothing as I remember them, but that didn’t keep one from melting at the beauty of the song, especially it’s last line, “Seine Wonne, seine Pein!”. Thielemann, visibly enjoying himself, fiddled with the Staatskapelle’s dynamics like a boy on the knobs of his parents’ stereo system. A musical boy that is… one who has the interest of his prominent singer at heart. In the voice-free lacunae he swelled and just in time dimmed the band with just a hint of a swoosh of his baton. The Wolf ended, via “Er ist’s”, “Elfenlied”, and “Anakreons Grab”, with a very touching “Mignon”, a virtual drama for orchestra and soprano in the composer’s own orchestration. The encore was the Strauss song, “Befreit”, a personal favorite of Thielemann and Fleming… on this evening a horribly tender, simple and grateful, moody thing of strings and prominent clarinets, with Fleming floating above it all.
A.Bruckner, Symphony No.8, C.T. / Stakap Dresden PROFIL Hänssler |
The performance was received, by a crowd that very much wanted this to have been a musical moment for the ages, with abundant enthusiasm. The fact that it had been an assembly of four very impressive, but curiously self-contained movements—each and as a whole with room for improvement—went generously or willfully unnoticed. The likelihood of the Bruckner coming together in the necessary way to satisfy the most demanding expectations is high for the stops of Thielemann’s little inauguration tour: Today in Frankfurt, tomorrow in Cologne, on the 8th in Grafenegg, and then especially on the 9th, just two, three days after Lorin Maazel’s season opening concerts with the Munich Philharmonic (with the same composers, Wagner and Bruckner!), at Munich’s Philharmonic Hall.
Here’s to hoping that “C.T.” in Dresden is the beginning of an era, not just an episode to end after five or seven years in acrimony and wistful dreams of what might yet still have been.