Last Thursday night, Zankel Hall hosted a concert called “Janine Jansen and Friends.” It was a great concert—not great like “I had a great tuna-fish sandwich for lunch!” but genuinely great.
Janine Jansen is the Dutch violinist. Her friends were Martin Fröst, the Swedish clarinetist; another Swede, Torleif Thedéen, a cellist; and a young French pianist named Lucas Debargue.
The concert began with Contrasts, Bartók’s 1938 work for violin, clarinet, and piano. It was commissioned by Joseph Szigeti and Benny Goodman. Goodman was the King of Swing. Fröst, too, is a king of swing. He has fabulous rhythm (as does Bartók). He produces an astonishing array of sounds on his instrument. His virtuosity is flabbergasting. Contrasts, on this occasion, was the Martin Fröst Show, and no worse off for that. His partners made their proper contributions. Jansen played with an admirable mixture of spunk and poise.
Martin Fröst is, simply, one of the best musicians in the world. I see that he is a conductor, too, and that he will take over the Swedish Chamber Orchestra in a couple of seasons. Will his skills transfer? Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t.
After the Bartók, Jansen and Debargue played a work by Szymanowski, his three Mythes (1915). Jansen showed an impassioned coolness. Then she dropped the coolness and was outright passionate. So musical is she—so great is her musical intelligence—that you can almost forget her beauty of tone. She has one of the most beautiful violin sounds—one of the most beautiful string sounds—you will ever hear. This is an advantage, to say the least.
As for Monsieur Debargue, he showed himself a fine Impressionist, as befits a Frenchman.
The final work on the program was Messiaen’s Quartet for the End of Time. The composer wrote this in 1941, when he was in a German POW camp. I think the title is sometimes misunderstood. It does not mean “This is the end of the world. These are the end times. The world has been nuked,” etc. It refers to the eclipsing of time and space by a spiritual order.
At least, this is my understanding. Anyway . . .
I sat and listened to Thursday night’s performance, mainly. What I mean is, I did not review, mentally. I just listened, communing with the music, so to speak. This is a high tribute to the performers, who were largely transparent. I did hear some things, however (including the Zankel Subway—the subway alongside the hall—which was annoying).
Martin Fröst is a one-man sound machine. He can get effect after effect on that instrument of his. The four performers were exemplary in their unison playing. What the cellist may have lacked in beauty of tone, he made up for in sheer musicianship. Jansen sang gloriously, and movingly, and luminously. She has the knack of knowing just how much portamento to apply. This makes a big difference in singing (with whatever instrument).
At the end of the quartet—the end of time?—no one applauded. You know how a conductor will keep his hands in the air, to ward off applause? I hate this. It’s gimmicky. If the audience is too stunned or moved to applaud, they won’t. You don’t have to direct them. At Zankel Hall, the four players just sat there. After what seemed an eternity, some applause began, and the evening concluded.
Let me tell you a secret: I have always known that one is supposed to esteem the Quartet for the End of Time. I never really have. I did not get its greatness, its profundity. I think I get it now. And of this, I’m sure: If you play it preciously, you will kill it. You must just play it. If it’s holy, the holiness will out.