Critic’s Notebook: The VSO, Petr Popelka, Renaud Capuçon in LvB, Strauss/Strauß & Korngold

Also published in Die Presse: Konzerthaus: Die Symphoniker wissen, wie Schlagobers klingen muss

E.W.Korngold (& LvB) Violin Concerto(s) R. Capuçon / Y.Nézet-Séguin / Rotterdam PO Virgin/Erato (2009) US | UK | DE

L.v.Beethoven Rosenkavalier-Suite et al. H.Blomstedt / J.Y.Thibaudet / Gewandhaus Decca (2005) US | UK | DE

Viennese Double Cream, Manifest in Music

The Vienna Symphony Orchestra, under their chief conductor, show their spirited side again.

Hearing Beethoven’s Consecration of the House Overture live is a rare pleasure: late, brisk, and genial Beethoven, in a nutshell — sparkling and, especially under chief conductor Petr Popelka, played with the requisite vitality by the Vienna Symphony Orchestra on Saturday evening. What a difference a conductor makes, compared to the previous outing of flat-out-boredom!

That refined opening was followed by Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s Violin Concerto — a work that, after a few decades of raised eyebrows, has now rightly claimed its spot in the standard repertoire. Its mix of luscious sweep and taut structure places it not far behind the most beloved examples of the genre. But both soloist and orchestra are called upon to respect those boundaries in either direction — lest the piece lose form, focus, or character.

Renaud Capuçon, a fundamentally solid and sound violinist, seemed unsure of which interpretive path to take and wrestled with the first two movements more than expected. The orchestra, by contrast, was in fine form — clear, nuanced, with that seasoned self-possession one hopes for. By the time the more assured third movement came around, Capuçon had managed to pull things together. His encore, Massenet’s Méditation (with harpist Volker Kempf), was a direct hit in the crowd-pleaser department, sappy, served on a bed of cold calcuation.

The kinship between Josef Strauss’s Dynamiden Waltz and Richard Strauss’s Rosenkavalier Waltzes may be obvious on paper, but by the time the latter shows up — so much other music has gone by, you’ve nearly forgotten the Josef. Overflowing, teetering on Salome-esque wildness, Popelka led it like a freshly stretched rubber band. Go figure: it can be done!

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