Lately, Jaap van Zweden has been conducting Mozart. In his previous program, he conducted the Requiem. I wrote,
The first time I ever heard Jaap van Zweden conduct the New York Philharmonic, I believe, he conducted Mozart: the Sinfonia concertante. He made me think of a phrase: “just rightness.”
For twenty-five years, I reviewed James Levine. Many, many times, I reviewed him in Mozart—and I would often speak of the conductor’s “just rightness.” Tempos, phrasing, weight, spirit—they were just right.
I had no idea that, on his next program, Van Zweden would conduct the Sinfonia concertante. And I checked: Van Zweden conducted the Philharmonic in the Sinfonia concertante in November 2014. He began his tenure as the orchestra’s music director in 2018. He will conclude it in a week or so.
Back in 2014, Van Zweden’s soloists in the Sinfonia concertante were Sheryl Staples and Cynthia Phelps. The former is the principal associate concertmaster of the orchestra; the latter is the principal violist. They again served as soloists on Friday morning.
Van Zweden was, as expected, Mozartean. He has a sense of balance, a sense of the various ingredients that go into Mozart performance. The second movement, Andante, was slowish but never sagged. It always kept its spine. In the closing movement, Presto, the orchestra executed some elegant scampering—and elegant scampering is a staple of Mozart (in both symphonic music and opera). In all three movements, I heard a dog not barking: the orchestra’s entrances and exits were clean as whistles. This can’t be taken for granted, even from top orchestras and conductors.
Van Zweden conducts a disciplined Mozart—but a Mozart that breathes nonetheless.
Our two soloists were capable, and they seemed to share a camaraderie, born of years—decades—of sitting a few yards from each other, making music.
Next on the program was Shostakovich: his first piano concerto. More formally, that concerto is known as the Concerto No. 1 for Piano, Trumpet, and Strings. The trumpet has a prominent role, to be sure—but is the trumpeter a co-soloist in the concerto? I don’t think so. I think it is a piano concerto, with an important “assist” from the trumpet. Be that as it may . . .
In my experience, the trumpeter usually sits in his section—and is accorded generous bows at the end. On Friday morning, Van Zweden had him up front—but sitting, suggesting that his role was less than that of co-equal soloist. But—have I said this before?—be that as it may . . .
I was delighted that Christopher Martin, the orchestra’s principal trumpeter, was sitting there. He pointed his horn right at me. (A trumpeter, I believe, would refer to that part of his instrument as a “bell.” But I am speaking loosely.) A beautiful, beautiful sound, he makes. He made it even in fast passages. His predecessor as principal, Philip Smith, always said that the trumpet is a singing instrument. A lyrical instrument. In Mr. Martin’s hands, it certainly was.
The piano soloist was Igor Levit. I have written so much about him, over the years, I’m not sure what I can now say. Maybe I can speak of his relationship with Shostakovich: it is close. Levit is utterly devoted to Shostakovich’s Preludes and Fugues, and has been known to play them in one go. (Takes a long time.)
In the concerto, he made beautiful sounds, as Christopher Martin did. He was also tight—tense, coiled—in the right places. He put jazz in his playing, where appropriate. He projected cool (as in “hipness”). He was smooth or spiky, as the score asks.
From all the performers, the middle movement, Lento, became something close to hypnotic. And the last movement was duly screwball.
When we speak of comedians, we speak of “timing.” We don’t use that word when we speak of musicians. But some musicians have great timing (which is distinct from, though related to, rhythm). Igor Levit is one.
He is a great pianist, plain and simple, and Shostakovich would have adored him (and his advocacy). Levit played with dynamism. He exuded charisma (an unshowy charisma). He was not for a second—not for a second—boring. This is a less common experience in concert life than you may imagine, even at the top.
On the second half of the program was a double concerto—the double concerto, that of Brahms, in A minor. The solo instruments are the violin and the cello. I always wait for the last movement, an invigorating payoff. I must admit that I wait for the last movement in Beethoven’s Triple too (his triple concerto, for piano, violin, and cello).
In the Brahms, Van Zweden was big, bold, and brawny. (That’s a lot of B’s.) Brahms is sometimes called a “Classical Romantic.” From Van Zweden, this reading was very Classical indeed—Beethoven-like. And well served as a result.
The violin soloist was Frank Huang, the Philharmonic’s concertmaster. He played with sweet tones, well focused. The cellist was the orchestra’s longtime principal, Carter Brey. You are always in authoritative hands with him—and you were in this concerto.
So, the concert featured five Philharmonic players—plus Igor Levit (not a bad “ringer”). Generations ago, the Philadelphia Orchestra produced records known as “First Chair.” They spotlighted the orchestra’s first-deskmen, to use an antique phrase.
Let me leave you with a fact about Sheryl Staples, the New York Philharmonic’s principal associate concertmaster. It is one of the best biographical facts I know. Her father played the trombone in Lawrence Welk’s orchestra. I just love that. It is, among other things, so American.