Raminta Šerkšnytė was in David Geffen Hall last night. She is a composer and, as those diacritics may tell you, she is a Lithuanian. The New York Philharmonic began its concert with the piece that made her reputation: De profundis. She wrote it in the late Nineties, when she was in her early twenties. It was her graduation piece. (I think of Shostakovich and his own graduation piece: the Symphony No. 1.) I will write about Šerkšnytė later, for the print magazine.
By the way, I said that Šerkšnytė was “in David Geffen Hall.” Just to be clear: she was there in body, not just through her music.
On the podium was Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla, another Lithuanian. Until recently, she was the music director of the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, in England. What is her next gig? Her next permanent position? (“Permanent.”) I don’t know. Possibly she doesn’t either.
Following Šerkšnytė’s De profundis was the Schumann Piano Concerto. I will tell you a secret: I don’t look forward to hearing this concerto. It’s a wonderful work, of course. But it is often badly played. It is limp, perfumed, la-di-da. Dull and annoying. It was very good in David Geffen Hall last night.
Our soloist was Daniil Trifonov. The opening figure was played with great intensity, and it was very well judged—in its phrasing, rhythm, etc. Throughout this first movement, Trifonov played with considerable maturity, virility, and musicality. When he was loud, he was deep into the keys, not pounding. And soft passages were clear and lovely.
Contributing some excellent singing on the oboe was Sherry Sylar. The oboist can seem a co-soloist in this first movement.
The movement is marked “Allegro affettuoso.” From Trifonov, Gražinytė-Tyla, and the New York Phil., it was less fast than you often hear it—and no worse off for that. Trifonov always had the whole movement in mind, not just going from passage to passage, or episode to episode. Pedaling was shrewd. Dotted figures were tight, or, better put, crisp. In the left hand, I heard notes I had never quite noticed before. The cadenza was slow (slowish), soft, and enchanting. Improvisatory, in a way.
Maybe my most important point is this: Trifonov played this music as though it mattered, a lot. As though it were new and fresh, and exciting. There was no going through the motions—pretty, aimless, dated Romantic motions.
On the podium, Gražinytė-Tyla was right with her soloist. She conducted with vigor and good sense. The final chords of the first movement were gratifyingly together.
And the second movement, the Intermezzo (Andante grazioso)? Good. Trifonov was inward. He also, as in the first movement’s cadenza, gave the impression of improvisation. Some of his rubato—his license with time—was a little excessive, I thought. But only a little.
In the closing movement—Allegro vivace—Trifonov felt the ebb and flow of the music in his very body. I thought, “He might make a conductor one day.” (He composes, in addition to playing. Conducting would complete the trifecta—à la Bernstein, Previn, and select others.)
Let me give you a sartorial note: Mr. Trifonov wore a light gray suit. Rather daring, in this world of black. No tie either (unless my eyes deceived me).
A second sartorial note: Maestra Gražinytė-Tyla looked smashing, as always, in a simple black top and black pants. (I think.) As the concert began, a woman behind me said, “I love the way she’s dressed.”
Audience members are expected to dress formally—at least by some. But the musicians on the stage? Not so much. Regular readers know my line about the Salzburg Festival, at least in its opera productions: “a place where the people in the audience are dressed with strict formality and the people onstage are naked.”
Enough of my attempts at fashion commentary, back to music. After intermission, Gražinytė-Tyla conducted the Lemminkäinen Suite, by Sibelius. I wondered, “How far is it from Vilnius to Helsinki?” Nationality is not destiny, certainly not in music. But I wondered nonetheless. The answer: about 425 miles.
Gražinytė-Tyla did not conduct the whole suite—rather, three of the four movements. Omitted was “Lemminkäinen in Tuonela.” Was the swan there? Oh, you betcha.
Allow me to make some general remarks about Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla’s conducting. Her gestures are clear, clean, and graceful. She gives a clinic in conducting, when it comes to how to move your arms. Golf instructors say, “If you want to know how to swing it, watch Nelly Korda. All the lines are clear.” So it is with Gražinytė-Tyla, I would say.
She conducts with a simple, unshowy authority. She is not one to overdo or underdo. She is a smart, poised, self-possessed conductor.
The first of the Lemminkäinen pieces was “Lemminkäinen and the Maidens of the Island.” (Yowza.) It began with a splatty entrance—oops. The second entrance was poor too—not splatty but fudged. Oops again. Thereafter, things were more assured. A rap on the New York Philharmonic has been: “Virtuosity, yes, but no real colors.” The Philharmonic showed us some fine colors in this music. And unison playing in the strings was outstanding.
Next came that swan—not Tchaikovsky’s or Saint-Saëns’s but Sibelius’s: “The Swan of Tuonela.” The English horn has a prominent role here, and Ryan Roberts stood in front, like a concerto soloist. He is tall and thin, like his instrument. He seemed about as tall as Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla, standing on the podium.
I had a memory—of Bernard Haitink, conducting a Bruckner symphony. He had his principal French horn stand in front, for one movement. Striking.
Ryan Roberts played well, and he had able assistance from another quasi-soloist, the cellist Patrick Jee. Gražinytė-Tyla shaped the music beautifully—with unerring judgment, that bespoke a musical naturalness.
Finally, “Lemminkäinen’s Return.” Anthony McGill, the clarinet, was characterful. And the music overall, from Gražinytė-Tyla’s baton, was suavely heroic.
Sibelius is known as cool—a composer of cool music (not in the sense of “hip” or “with it”). Yes, but the emotions are hot. That cool–hot feeling—that mysterious and alluring dichotomy—is a hallmark of Sibelius. And we heard it last night from the New York Philharmonic and its remarkable guest conductor.