Notes from the 2025 Salzburg Festival ( 1 ) A Recital with Igor Levit filling in for Evgeny Kissin

Salzburg Festival • Recitals | D-S-C-H • ex-Kissin | Igor Levit

Whispered Brahms, Affectatious Shostakovich

Substituting for Evgeny Kissin is no picnic – even for Igor Levit. But at least he tried.

The solo recital with Evgeny Kissin, part of Salzburg’s “DSCH” series of concerts, had to go ahead without its planned soloist who had fallen ill on short notice. He was going to play the same program he gave in late March at the Musikverein. Shostakovich, who died exactly fifty years ago that week, at least, remained the focus of the second half, thanks to Igor Levit, who stepped in for his colleague and left that part similar enough. In fact, on paper, the Second Sonata was still the same piece. Musically, everything was fundamentally different, though – including said sonata.

D.Shostakovich Preludes & Fugues op.87 Igor Levit Sony (2021) US | UK | DE

D.Shostakovich Preludes & Fugues op.87 Keith Jarrett ECM (1992) US | UK | DE

The surge, seriousness, and underlying humor that Kissin had drawn out were blown away. In their place came playfulness, a murmur, a small-small in stubborn mezzopiano – here and there interrupted by an occasional furious, note-snatching dash across the keyboard. Musical incidents that each stood like a monolith amid the whispering. Energy, when it was present at all, was derived from speed, not mass. This worked quite nicely for the Preludes and Fugues from Opus 87, as did Levit’s inclination to dissolve the notes into architectural elements. Quirky, in the best sense; a little as if Gyro Gearloose had taken up the piano.

The Largo of the Sonata no longer stood, as with Kissin, in spiritual proximity to Debussy; it was pushed toward twelve-tone music and Schoenberg. “Pointillist,” one might say. Or “frayed.” The ostentatious renunciation of loudness – especially effective in the broad expanse of the Grosses Festspielhaus – was not without appeal. Levit’s delicate, soiree-appropriate soft, and even touch was consistently admirable – especially in the Brahms Intermezzi Op. 117 and Four Ballades Op. 10 of the first half. Brahms benefits from this, to a point – though the approach shifts the burden of generating tension from the performer to the audience: either it sits in raptness (which, in the restless first half, could hardly be claimed) or one faces a certain risk of the audience nodding off.

The question also arose whether there might be such a thing as “over-interpretation,” so much did Levit demand of every phrase in these simply beautiful Intermezzi; so introspective every attack had to become; so brooding every pause: every tiniest note a carefully curated miniature. The Ballades, too, received this detail-minded, intelligent treatment. Like pulled pork, it seemed: so tender it fell apart if you as much as looked at it – a tightrope walk between touching and tiresome. The contrast of the thunderous leap into the B minor Ballade, as rough-hewn as Michelangeli liked to play it, came out all the sharper in this setting. Sweetening the close was another Brahms Intermezzo as encore – holding back the already-breaking-out just once more, and making the already-jubilation-primed remainder of the audience cheer all the harder.


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Notes from the 2025 Bayreuth Festival: Camping Masterclass and Macbeth at the Foot of the Green Hill

Also published in Die Presse: Partystimmung bei „Macbeth“

Wagner-Light – and not even that much Wagner

The free-to-all Open-Air Festival Opener is a welcome opportunity to combine Green Hill Flair and camping gear.

The 149th Bayreuth Festival has opened, but eyes are already fixed on next year: 150 years of Bayreuth – though, strictly speaking, only the 113th actual Festival season (39 pre-, 74 post-1951). The grand plan? All ten canonical Bayreuth operas plus, for the first time on the Green Hill, Rienzi. Reality and the treasurer had other ideas. So now the plan is a bit more modest if still unique, thanks to Rienzi.

Is that a good thing? Bayreuth doesn’t have to offer “unique” – it is unique. Tradition, simply by being tradition, has value. In fact, that’s Bayreuth’s main draw. Yes, tradition is constantly subverted here (which is itself part of the tradition)– but the frame of tradition ought to be handled carefully. If the festival were to start putting Meyerbeer on the Bayreuth stage (as people sometimes – unwisely, inexplicably – suggest they do), it’d be the first step toward the festival losing the plot and surrendering to the arbitrary. Opening the Festspielhaus to Rienzi, meanwhile, does no harm nor need it be the ledge of a slippery slope. Incidentally, the staging is meant to be a one-off, performed nine times, before being passed on to other opera houses.

That the team of Magdolna Parditka and Alexandra Szemeredy orients its production more along the lines of Wieland Wagner’s 1957 Stuttgart Rienzi and the 1939 Karlsruhe version of the score, rather than attempting some Frankensteinian “complete” version, is heartening. That the other production will be a so-called “AI Ring”, visually drawing on all previous Ring-productions and fed by cues from the ‘staging’ (as opposed to “directorial”) team, can faze no true Wagnerian, especially with Thielemann conducting. Granted, it sounds like it will be more likely “interesting” than “good” but worst case: close your eyes and perk the ears. A lesson learned from Jay Scheib’s Augmented Reality Parsifal.

Back to the present: the third Festival Open Air served as a warm-up act. The Festival Orchestra, “almost voluntarily,” took to the stage for this open-access concert at the foot of the Green Hill – right between the stage and the VIP zone/champagne tent. A few trees are in the way (nothing a generously ambitious axe couldn’t solve in the coming years), but people adapt. The crowd? Plenty of youth, musicians’ families, locals, and some early-arriving festival-goers. Cherry tomatoes, cubes of cheese, bottles of Kulmbacher beer, and glasses of Aperol were the currency of the evening. Territorial skirmishes – already two hours before the concert – were managed politely, amid a display of Germany’s native talents for camping, picnicking, and spontaneous order.

Atmosphere was everything – as it should be. The acoustics? Well, like at similar open-air festival in Schönbrunn, Munich’s Odeonsplatz, Berlin’s Waldbühne: decent under the circumstances, but only loosely related to actual concert music. To pretend otherwise would be silly, just as it would be pointless to measure such an event by the standards of a concert-hall performance. Pablo Heras-Casado, this year’s conductor of the Parsifal , kept the mood lively. Gershwin’s Girl Crazy overture brought out a “SummerStage-in-Central-Park” vibe. Beethoven’s Fifth (the first movement) thundered along with delightful furiosity. That the strings struggled a little with the evening’s humidity could be overlooked – the important thing was the oomph.

Three excerpts from Verdi’s Macbeth fit the Meistersingerian festival motto (“Wahn, überall Wahn”) – though the work isn’t exactly most people’s idea of open-air party-time. For that, Johann Strauss’ Thunder and Lightning Polka (“ Unter Donner und Blitz was far better suited: an encore gratefully seized upon by an audience whose joints, after four hours of sitting on the ground, were celebrating their own 150th anniversary. “Next year, better bring a chair,” advised a nearby, seated lady from her enviably comfy-looking camping gear – in a tone part helpful, part pitying. You live and you learn.
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Critic’s Notebook: David Robertson and the Australian Youth Orchestra in Vienna

P.Sculthorpe Earth Cry, Piano Cto. W.Barton, T.A.Cislowska NZSO, James Judd Naxos (2004) US | UK | DE

Rimsky-Korsakov* (*of sorts) Sheherazade LSO, Stokowski Decca Japan US | UK | DE

Youthful Goodness from Down Under

The Australian Youth Orchestra under David Robertson stops by the Musikverein

If you are a young serious musician, there are two concert halls at the top of your list that you would want to get to play in, once in your life. If one of them is Carnegie Hall, the musicians of the Australian Youth Orchestra got to tick the other one off their bucket list, last Sunday morning at the Musikverein.

Sure, their concert took place a bit outside the season, but with lots of help from the Australian Embassy, handing tickets to anyone on their cultural rolodex, the place was very nicely filled with enthusiastic supporters. Who knows, with nothing else going on in Vienna (except touristy nonsense, as all the music festivals have started their season, maybe the AYO even got a small discount on the rental of the Golden Hall.

Be that as it may, the concert looked enticing enough. Good youth orchestras are well worth hearing in general, and especially so on tour, because they play the heck out of their music in ways that cannot be expected from professional orchestras with more experience but also more routine. Moreover, the AYO came with another asset in tow: Conductor David Robertson. Much underrated, even in the U.S. – where he has been a known quantity for decades – and even more so in Europe – despite having given his (unplanned) debut with the Berlin Philharmonic earlier this year – it’s always been a bit of a surprise to me, that he hadn’t been named to lead one of the big US orchestras. (Instead, he had a long and fruitful 13 seasons with the St. Louis Symphony and eight with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra.)

Incidentally, he didn’t conduct the opening piece of the matinee. Instead, he gave the podium to the young Australian assistant conductor of the AYO, who had helped Robertson prepare the orchestra, letting Carlo Antonioli make his debut at the Musikverein, conducting the Peter Sculthorpe “classic” (almost) Earth Cry, the composer’s de-facto didgeridoo concerto, with soloist William Barton. A little feather in Antonioli’s cap and a nice gesture from Robertson. Gurgling a drone, as one does on said instrument, Barton wandered onto stage as if preparing the ground for the other musicians to do their bit. It’s a bit on the nose, as an “Australia” signifier, but so is taking a picture with a koala when visiting, yet both are still a lot of fun and effective to get the message across.

Just as a recently purchased vehicle invariably will have “new car smell”, so young conductors have “new conductor look”: A certain way of moving. Deliberate, sincere… a bit as if teacher was watching. Some never seem to shake the habit but usually it just goes away on its own. It certainly didn’t inhibit a very clean performance of Earth Cry, in any case.

More youngsters at work: For the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto, the AYO brought the very young (17, for another two months) Australian violinist Christian Li with them, touted to be the youngest (junior category) winner of the Menuhin Competition for Young Violinists. (An honor he shares with Julia Fischer, 1995, and Daishin Kashimoto, 1993, which isn’t bad company.) And bloody hell, the lad can play! Clean as a whistle, for starters, a bit proper, certainly ticking all the boxes: tone, sound, gradations, a varied vibrato... After a worryingly sweet beginning that briefly threatened treacle, that was shed, too, and what was left was tenacity and determined beauty. His young music-making compatriots did they their share too, with spirited support, lovely pianissimos, and lively spurts.

The second half was given over to Rimsky-Korsakov’s Sheherazade, a perfect vehicle for showboating an orchestra. And that’s exactly what happened. The sonorous opening, with depth and grip, was impressive right out of the gate. The strings: terrific throughout. But guided with patience and exactitude by Robertson, every section and plenty first chairs got to exhibit their considerable talents, with the bassoon, oboe, and cello being particularly impressive. The woodwinds, as a group, had moments in all-too-dense fortissimos, that were shrill with excitement, adding a briefly painful sharp edge.

Even so, the performance could not quite mask the episodic nature of the piece – perhaps a consequence of a touch too much diligent highlighting of individual performances. Not that it dampened the enthusiasm of the supporters, friends, and regular listeners in the hall. “I know lunch is waiting”, Robertson addressed the crowd in German, “but…” he served them an appetizer of his own making, all the same: “Joyful Noise”, an encore he wrote for the orchestra of minimally Stravinskyan, broad, charming, sometime chorale-like work with a mildly repetitive string part that sounds as if the orchestra could not get out of one of its shoes, despite its best attempts, followed by fleeting spherical moments and dabs of… maybe Reger? Fair enough cap to an impressive concert.

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Critic’s Notebook: Manfred Honeck Scintillating with the VSO; Kavakos brooding in Korngold

Also published in Die Presse: Dirigent Manfred Honeck ließ im Musikverein die Funken sprühen

E.W.Korngold (& Barber) Violin Concerto(s) Gil Shaham / A.Previn / LSO DG (1994) US | UK | DE

L.v.Beethoven Symphonies 5 & 7 M.Honeck / Pittsburg SO Reference SACD (2015) US | UK | DE

Exuberance and Musical Joy with Manfred Honeck

The Vienna Symphony Orchestra, inspired-sounding, under the West-Austrian maestro from Pittsburgh

There aren’t many conductors who make you think: No matter what, where, or with whom – I need to be there and hear them. Manfred Honeck – who, over the past 17 years, has turned the fine Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra into one of the world’s most interesting ensembles – is one of them. Saturday night’s concert with the Vienna Symphony at the Musikverein offered ample reasons why.

Perhaps not quite yet in the Austrian premiere of Lera Auerbach’s Frozen Dreams, a joint commission by Pittsburgh, the Vienna Symphony, and the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde (alias dictus Musikverein) – where one’s ears were primarily busy just taking in the new music. Soundscapes (a bowed gong, singing glasses, eventually the string sections) gently crept forward, pushing against the rustling restlessness of the hall. A wry smile, recalling Alfred Schnittke, underlies the piece when Auerbach lets familiar-sounding tunes dart through the abstract tectonics of her musical landscape – or when she just brusquely wipes away those friendly gestures with a broad orchestral swipe.

Perhaps also still not quite in Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s Violin Concerto: Not here, simply because the soloist, Leonidas Kavakos, was squarely at the center of it all. It’s pretty safe to say that this concerto has arrived in the repertoire: this was already the fourth time it’s been heard in Vienna this season, and thrice with major performers. In February with the Tonkünstler and Simone Lamsma and in May with the VSO (!) and Renaud Capuçon.

Kavakos, by nature not a grandstanding, overwrought kind of soloist, is perfectly suited to this music that straddles the concert hall and Hollywood. Full-bodied and penetrating, charged with inner tension, and – despite a surprisingly broad and heavy vibrato – never soupy, he set the tone for the performance. That even an intonation-animal like him brushes up against the limits of ambiguity in the tricky Andante shows that Korngold offers his performers beauty, but not ease. (Capuçon and Lamsma were cleaner, more distict here, though neither brought anything like his expressiveness to the work.) The finale buzzed and hummed with energy. After that, his encore – the Bach "Loure" from Partita No.3 in E major, abstract and played right at the edge – felt like a glass of ice water.

Finally, in the Beethoven, Honeck’s influence came into focus. There was so much to discover and enjoy in this Seventh Symphony, for all its familiarity. It started with the fundamentals: articulation, phrasing. The crescendos were organic. Even at breakneck speed, there was never haste; never panic over bungled notes. Never lost in minutiae, he kept the momentum flowing just right. Sparks flew with intensity.

P.S.: This merits a little rant: The VSO is bloody lucky to have Honeck return to them regularly (he will be back in October with Anne-Sofie Mutter!); the Vienna Phil insane for not trying to tie him to the orchestra of which he was a violist-member for ten years. Is it, because his brother Rainer is their concert-master? Something is decidedly amiss when the Vienna Phil evidently avoids a conductor who, on paper, would be a perfect fit, one who is among the best regarded, most exciting maestros of our time, and who has such ample feeling for the 'Viennese style'. He should have been conducting the bloody New Year's concert oodles of times by now, instead the orchestras he has conducted at the Musikverein include the Pittsburgh and Munich Philharmonics, the Vienna Symphony, the Webern SO, a bloody student orchestra, the Jeunesse Youth Orchestra, the Swedish RSO, the MDRSO, and the ORF-RSO... but not the Vienna Phil. Anyone suggesting that anything but politicking and shady Viennese machinations are the reson for this, does not know this snake-put of a town well enough, methinks.
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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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Critic’s Notebook: The Tonkünstler, Fabien Gabel, and Simone Lamsma in a Viennese-as-it-gets Evening

Also published in Die Presse: Romantik ohne Kitsch: Ein perfekter Wiener Abend im Musikverein

R.Strauss Compl.Schlagobers-Suite N.Järvi/Detroit SO Chandos (2015) US | UK | DE

E.W.Korngold (& Barber) Violin Concerto(s) Gil Shaham / A.Previn / LSO DG (1994) US | UK | DE

A Perfectly Viennese Evening

February 15^th, 2025: The Tonkünstler Orchestra offered a night as Viennese — and sugary — as they come.

Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s Tales of Strauss, a piano fantasy turned orchestral suite, is a delectable stroll through the Strauss family’s waltz garden. Played here by the Tonkünstler Orchestra at the Musikverein, it came in a lush orchestration — not by the composer himself, but with his approval. There were knowing smiles and gently nodding heads in the audience whenever a particularly familiar motif peeked through. If that doesn’t make your soul smile and chase away the day’s worries, you're in trouble.

Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s Violin Concerto is no less Viennese at heart — even if the surface sheen might conjure Hollywood.After all: John Williams and his ilk all studied at the feet of the master (when they did not outright plagiarize him). Simone Lamsma played it in fine style, full-bodied and just a touch bristly: none too sweet — just enough to savor the heady tone without drowning in kitsch. The orchestra, under Fabien Gabel, surrounded her with lush romanticism — supportive but never smothering. That the audience responded with enthusiasm is no surprise: Op. 35 is one of the great underappreciated violin concertos of the 20th century — alongside, arguably, Samuel Barber’s and Wolf-Ferrari’s.

Finally, the bit the other Strauss — Richard — came up with, when he reached into the Viennese pastry box: His rarely performed but utterly charming Schlagobers Suite. The politely winking exoticism of the Coffee Dance leads to a nested romance for violin and orchestra, which concertmaster Lieke te Winkel navigated beautifully: Two Dutch soloists in one night! Echoes of the Rosenkavalier glimmer along the edges of this otherwise heavy, calorie-rich whipped-cream waltz. That the orchestra made it through the entire sugar-drenched program in such strong form — and without indigestion — is heartening, since Gabel is the Tonkünstler’s chief-conductor-designate.

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Critic’s Notebook: Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 4

Also published in Die Presse: Konzerthaus: Chor Hui, Horn Pfui – Sängerische Götterfunken zum Beethoven-Abschluss

L.v.Beethoven, Symphonies 1-5 J.Savall, Le Concert des Nations Alia Vox SACDs

L.v.Beethoven, Symphonies 1-5 J.Savall, Le Concert des Nations Alia Vox SACDs

Choir Yay, Horn Nay – Divine Sparks to End the Beethoven Cycle

A grand – and long! – finale to the Beethoven cycle of Le Concert des Nations under Jordi Savall with Symphonies Nos. 8 & 9.

Historic, indeed, this first historically informed Beethoven cycle on period instruments at the Konzerthaus, which came to its fire-drunken conclusion on Thursday evening with Symphonies No. 8 and 9.

Rough and energetic was the entrance into Op. 93; one could almost glimpse the Flying Dutchman in the first movement, or premonitions of the Ninth. And yet it’s just the – ever-so-sprightly – little Eighth, languishing in its neglected place between the Seventh, “Apotheosis of the Dance”, and the über-Symphony, "The Ninth", that overshadows all.

Beauty of sound and orchestral color were not this ensemble’s priorities, on this occasion. Rather rhythmic urgency and raw energy are its strengths – at least in this Beethoven cycle. That a certain nervous tension creeps in from time to time is understandable.

Accordingly thunderous was the dramatic opening of the Ninth; the second movement hurried along more with speed than tension.

The Concert des Nations' Beethoven Symphony Cycle reviewed: Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 1: A Squawking First Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 2: A Tale of two Halfs Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 3: Nearly Ideal Beethoven

Before the third movement, the latecomers – chorus, soloists, piccolo, creaky contrabassoon – entered the stage, and with them the black day of the horn player, whose downward spiral had already begun in the Eighth. A reminder, should one be needed, that even 75 years into the period performance movement, success on that instrument is never guaranteed.

Sensibly, the soloists were positioned at the front of the stage. Full-bodied and dramatic: bass Manuel Walser; the rest – unremarkable, which in the Ninth, especially with the ladies, is usually a good sign. Outshining them all was the chorus.

Just 36 voices, and yet they filled the Grosser Saal with an ease and volume, a physically palpable joy, enthusiasm, and energy that one had been hoping for from the orchestra for eight and a half symphonies. That was the foundation of the audience’s roaring enthusiasm. Ask ChatGPT
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Critic’s Notebook: Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 3

Also published in Die Presse: Konzerthaus: Beethoven, fast ideal unter Jordi Savall

L.v.Beethoven, Symphonies 1-5 J.Savall, Le Concert des Nations Alia Vox SACDs

L.v.Beethoven, Symphonies 1-5 J.Savall, Le Concert des Nations Alia Vox SACDs

Near-Ideal Beethoven from Jordi Savall at the Konzerthaus

The third concert in the Beethoven cycle raises questions of venue – and musical standards. Here with Symphonies Nos. 1, 2 & 4.

The historically informed Beethoven cycle at the Konzerthaus entered its third and penultimate round Tuesday evening, June 24th, following two concerts back in February. This time: Symphonies One, Two, and Four. A quick peek into the archive: Apart from the Fourth – played in 2016 by the Orchestre des Champs-Élysées under Philippe Herreweghe – it was the first time these symphonies had ever been performed at the Konzerthaus by an original instruments ensemble. Remarkable.

After the last two concerts got off to low-octane starts only to rev up in the second halves, Symphony No. 1 hit the ground running. The first movement purred along with light-footed energy; the third was taken headlong, borderline hectic. The fourth movement begins with one of Beethoven’s most imaginative openings: the music takes five false starts – each getting a bit further, a bit higher – until on the sixth try it finally breaks through and takes off. Plenty of room for interpretive flair. Savall kept things tight in the buildup, then almost came to a hault from which he launched, casually and swiftly.

A common thread through all three symphonies: the timpanist. Snappy, pungent entries that added to the volatility of these performances. Likewise the strings – alert and springy, notes played on the balls of their feet, always driving forward. Intonation and rhythmic steadiness are near-guaranteed with Le Concert des Nations; only in the Fourth Symphony did things briefly go sideways, especially in the second movement – short-lived, but jarring. The cheerful clatter of the woodwind keys probably bothered no one; in the first movement, the insistent rhythmic pounding sounded like Beethoven nailing his manifesto to the gate of Romanticism.

The Concert des Nations' Beethoven Symphony Cycle reviewed: Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 1: A Squawking First Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 2: A Tale of two Halfs Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 4: Choir Yay, Horn Nay

Symphony No. 2 – described in Leipzig in 1804, not flatteringly, as “a monster that writhes for a full hour in contortions and lashes about with its tail, for no apparent reason” – didn’t last an hour here, thank goodness, but still felt long. Mostly due to a somewhat sluggish Larghetto. The Allegro, though, skittered along on spidery legs, giving way to a taut, sharply drawn finale that ticked all the boxes. And yet – there was something subtly unsatisfying in the air, inviting investigation.

Why did everything feel so darn tasteful, so bloody correct – and why did the effect still fall short of what one expects from such performances? Why did all that energy poured into the music dissipate so quickly? Was it the relaxed quality – the ease, despite all the engagement – with which the ensemble played? More likely: it was the room. The sheer physical impact of this music doesn’t quite carry across the distance of the Grosser Saal. The dream – as unprofitable as it is unrealistic – would be to hear these very performances in the Mozart Saal. But you can’t have everything. Beethoven’s final symphonies follow this evening.

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