The Mediterranean Conference Centre, in collaboration with the European Foundation for Support of Culture and the Orchestra of the Capella of St Petersburg, delighted audiences with a wonderful double bill – two consecutive nights featuring the legendary Russian orchestra, two conductors and four outstanding soloists.
A priori, this in itself was more than enough to recommend the event but the intelligent programming made it a sine qua non, one not to be missed. For the first night, on June 15, the music was more varied, the pieces shorter and perhaps a tad lighter on the ear of those less ‘engrossed’ by classical music. The programme for the night of June 16 thrilled real aficionados and was an enticement for those who wanted to get to know and enjoy classical music more.
This delightful and intelligent seduction gave the audience the opportunity to appreciate the response of one of the great orchestras of the world to two different directors, quite apart from its handling of such differing programmes.
Notionally founded on July 16, 1882, the Orchestra of the Capella of St Petersburg benefitted, virtually from its inception, of the major managerial input of two of Russia’s outstanding composers – Mily Balakirev and Nikolay Rimsky-Korsakov. From as early as 1902, it offered ‘educational’ concerts on a regular basis; a mission that I believe the MCC, with its various collaborators, has embraced to the full; as evidenced by this latest double bill.
The conductor on the opening night was maestro Alexander Chernushenko, considered a representative of the Leningrad/St Petersburg school of music. Reading about him reveals he is a graduate of the Choir College of the St Petersburg State Academic Capella and of the St Petersburg Rimsky-Korsakov Conservatoire. There he specialised, with great success, in opera and symphony, conducting under Prof. I. A. Musin, one of the most prominent teachers in Russia.
Among many successes, in the autumn 1991 Chernushenko refounded the St Petersburg Capella Symphony Orchestra, because after the Revolution of 1917, the Court Orchestra of the St Petersburg Capella had moved to the newly organised philharmonic. Under his supervision, the St Petersburg Capella Symphony Orchestra became one of the best known ensembles in Russia, undertaking many successful tours in Europe, Asia and elsewhere, and with many recordings under its belt.
The opening piece of the first evening was the Francesca da Rimini: Symphonic Fantasy after Dante, Op. 32, by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893). I always felt that this wonderful symphonic poem is very much a ‘chamber music’ kind of work. It tries to represent symphonically, the tragic tale of Francesca da Rimini as immortalised in Dante’s Divina Commedia. Its sombre opening, with the bases and wind, introduces us to the Inferno wherein Dante wanders and the evolving music portrays his horror as he progresses.
The tempo quickens in the second part with quite a vivid description of a storm, only to subside in the next section when the lovers succumb to the passions of their flesh. The mood of the music remains dark in the finale, depicting the eternal punishment, crowned with the shocking and ominous tutti of the orchestra. It takes some courage to start with such a sombre piece but the tight conducting and excellent performance made sure it was very well received by the audience.
As a sort of sorbet after an appetising but rather heavy entrée, maestro Chernushenko next conducted a composition by one of the ‘founders’ of the original St Petersburg orchestra, the Capriccio Espagnol, Op. 34, by Nikolai Andreyevich Rimsky-Korsakov (1844-1908).
This five movement orchestral suite, based on lively Spanish folk melodies, had the audience ‘swinging’ with it, including my nine-year-old great-nephew Cole. It has two parts, with the first comprising three movements and the second two. You can form an idea of the vivacity of this capriccio when I tell you that the first movement has two clarinet solos and one violin solo.
The next movement has various instruments and the orchestra repeating a melody introduced in the very beginning by the horn section. The third movement is much like the first but differs in instrumentation and key. This was followed by a lively canto gitano that progressed through a riotous dance to lead the capriccio to the uproarious fandango of the final movement; this flowing into the even more rousing interpretation of the Alborada theme of the first and third movements. The public loved it.
Next we had 1970 Seascapes, Cycle for Violin and Symphony Orchestra by Alexey Shor, who was born in Kyiv, Ukraine, but rumour has it may now have Maltese citizenship.
The solo violinist was Haik Kazazyan, an outstanding young violinist of his generation, born in Yerevan, the capital of Armenia. He studied at the Sayat-Nova Music School with Prof. L. Zoryan and later with Prof. E. Gratch of the Moscow Gnessin music school, as well as at the Moscow P.I. Tchaikovsky Conservatory and at Royal College of Music in London with Prof. I. Rashkovsky.
Seascapes is a delightful, soothing, promenade through various scenes that delight, even when a storm gathers.
Seascapes is a delightful, soothing, promenade through various scenes that delight, even when a storm gathers
Having started the concert with the rather sombre, if beautiful, Francesca da Rimini, we had been softened through the Capriccio Espagnol and the 1965 Seascapes to welcome the finale, which was Dreaming of the Masters I, A Jazz Concerto for Clarinet and Orchestra by Allan Gilliland, who was born in Darvel, Scotland, but moved to Canada in his infancy and settled in Edmonton, Alberta.
The solo clarinet was Julian Milkis, the only student of clarinet legend Benny Goodman. He first met Milkis when Gilliland was just 24, a promising clarinet student at New York’s Juilliard School of Music; preparing for his debut at Carnegie Hall. This finale brought the house down and was graced by several encores, which were avidly ‘requested’ by the audience; not least, may I add, by my very well behaved, great-nephew.
The following day, the 16th, the orchestra was under the baton of Malta’s own Alexei Galea Cavallazzi. Following immediately on such a superb maestro as Alexander Chernushenko would be daunting enough. But actually doing so through the medium of the same orchestra, that of the Capella of St Petersburg, Chernushenko’s own ‘baby’ could have been really unnerving.
I was delighted to note that not only was this challenge met with great panache, mastery and elegance, but the orchestra responded very well and warmly to Galea Cavallazzi’s baton. The rapport was intimate, friendly and delighted. It was warming to see the rapport between Chernushenko and Galea Cavallazzi at the end of the concert.
This writer was a very happy ‘fly on the wall’ indeed.
Both pieces for this second evening were by Johannes Brahms (1833-1897), the German composer, conductor and pianist of the Romantic period, who spent much of his professional life in Vienna, Austria.
This great composer’s status was and is such that the 19th-century conductor Hans von Bülow grouped him with Johann Sebastian Bach and Ludwig van Beethoven as one of the ‘Three Bs’ and many others agree. For me, Bach and Beethoven are in their own firmament, much as I like Brahms.
The first half of the concert was dedicated to the Double Concerto in A minor, Op. 102 for violin, violoncello and orchestra, Brahms’ final work for orchestra. He wrote it for the cellist Robert Hausmann, a frequent collaborator of his in chamber music, and also for his old but estranged friend, the violinist Joseph Joachim; perhaps in part, as a gesture of reconciliation.
Our solo cellist for the evening was the world-famous Russian cellist Alexander Israilevich Rudin, who is also a conductor. His solo cellist performances have delighted audiences all over the world, with the likes of the Royal Philharmonic, the Vienna Symphony and the Danish Radio Orchestras.
The solo violinist was the renowned and charming Vladimir Pogoretskiy, originally from Ukraine, currently the concertmaster of the Orchestra of the Capella of St Petersburg, and prior to that of The Baltic Sea Youth Philharmonic (2008-2011) and of The Mikhailovsky Theater (2012-2018).
He has performed at the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam, Tokyo Opera City, Danish Radio Concert Hall, Concert House Berlin, English National Opera/Coliseum, St Petersburg Grand Philharmonic Hall, Bolshoi Theatre of Russia as well as other concert venues in Amsterdam, The Hague, Milan, Geneve, Stockholm, Mexico City and elsewhere.
This double concerto is a very thoughtful and wistful composition in three movements, allegro (A minor), andante (D major) and vivace non troppo (A minor to A major), with, however, some energetic flourishes. It is not a favourite with concertgoers and it is not performed as often as it could or should.
Particular thanks are therefore due to whoever had the courage to include it in the programme. To me, it is the kind of concert that would best move me when I am in a chamber music kind of mood. I consider that including it paid off, as it was a delight, particularly with the contemplative andante, where Galea Cavallazzi managed to entice the orchestra and soloists to transmit the nostalgia so reflective of Brahms’ pensive longing for his friend.
Rudin and Pogoretsky melded well together and with the orchestra; all responded lovingly to the baton, creating a feeling of sad serenity that I muse is what Brahms wanted to achieve. I liked it and so did the audience that welcomed it with heartfelt applause and several curtain calls. Not for my nine-year-old great-nephew, however, who was absent; although one never knows with him; he is so sensitive.
The second half of the concert consisted of the Symphony No. 3 in F major, Op. 90. This is a much more popular creation and was considered by Brahms’ friend and music critic Eduard Hanslick, as the most nearly perfect of Brahms’ first three symphonies. Going back to my great-nephew, again absent for this delight, he most certainly would have revelled at the force of the First Symphony (I hope not too boisterously) and been charmed by the Second, but I suspect he would have also liked the Third. It is in four movements, allegro con brio (F major, in sonata form), andante (C major, in a modified sonata form), poco allegretto (C minor, in ternary form ABA) and allegro – un poco sostenuto (F minor to F major, in a modified sonata form).
From the start, the Symphony No. 3 is much more melodious, from the very opening bars, in fact, and entices rather than challenges as the double concerto of the first half does. The orchestra seemed to relish it as did the public, the more so as it progressed through the lyricism of the third movement, which continued with greater passion in the melodious fourth movement to then gently fade away in the finale.
I liked very much the dramatically compact and eruptive conducting and the lightness brought out with the woodwind, so reminiscent of Dvorjak. What was particularly delightful to me, and I believe to the rest of the audience, was the sense of conviction in the playing by the orchestra, reflecting the conducting.
Even young Cole would have delighted in it and joined in the thunderous applause at the end and stood up for the many curtain calls with the rest of us. So thank you once again, MCC.