Philharmonia
Herbert Blomstedt
Leonidas Kavakos
Royal Festival Hall, Southbank Centre
21 November 2024
A concert in two very different halves began with much reduced forces and violinist Leonidas Kavakos leading an elegant chamber music account of Mozart’s fourth violin concerto in D K218. This is almost certainly how it would have been done in 1775 when it was written and conductors, in the modern sense, were unknown.
Kavakos relied heavily on the leader (Zsolt-Tihamer Visontay), catching his eye to coordinate entries when he turned to the audience to play his solo passages. It was an affectionate, but crisp, account of a much-loved work with lots of lightness and attention to dynamics. The andante cantabile was played with commendable clarity and balance and highlighted Kavakos’s formidable technique in that simple but beautiful cadenza. The rondeau was sparky with the passage in which the soloist duets with the first violins delightfully warm.
And so after the interval to an orchestra so large (eight double basses, six percussionists, two harps, double brass and twice as many upper strings as formerly) it filled the stage. As the orchestra found their places the diminutive, white haired Herbert Blomstedt (97) was, without fuss, assisted by Visotay to his seat on the podium where he signalled decisively that he was ready, thanks, and needed no more help. I was reminded of seeing Otto Klemperer conduct late in life or of Daniel Barenboim at this year’s Proms. Some conductors have such charisma and authority that even when they can make only minimal gestures their very presence draws miracles from the orchestra and totally enraptures the audience.
Mahler’s Ninth Symphony (1909) is a gargantuan work in every sense and every single person on stage rose to the challenge. Blomstedt brought out all the elements of the strange, grieving sound world Mahler creates in the first movment with its clattery muted brass, and the repeated harp motif which gradually softens as the brass and other instruments enter. The mysterious flute and horn duet was a treat too.
In the second movement Blomstedt ensured (excellent bassoon work and very tight rhythms) that we were aware that this was much more than a jolly jape. When we got to the rondo-burleske I was struck yet again by what strange, wild, angry distressed music this is and how fiendishly difficult it must be to play, not to mention exhausting. This is a work which requires huge levels of stamina as we share with the composer his anguish and grief at the recent death of his daughter.
Then, as if that weren’t enough, they have to play the final movement in D flat (five flats). No wonder amateur orchestras rarely, if ever, tackle Mahler. It’s not for the faint-hearted. In this performance we got a stunning account of the chorale and the ending – which dies away, very slowly, to nothing was breathtakingly moving. Yes, Blomstedt was in fine form. Age is just a number.
