His tunes are just as grandiose as Tchaikovsky’s, but he surrounds them with diaphanous orchestral textures, and contrasts them with disquieting, non-melodic passages. But Sibelius’ originality is always evident. The First Symphony speaks with the Romantic rhetoric of Tchaikovsky’s Fifth both begin with a clarinet solo that returns in the Finale. The composer clearly measured out the rests that make up the abrupt ending, but the timing of the final chords was distorted in this rendition. At the very end, the music suddenly gives way to silence, punctuated by six massive full-orchestra chords. With the strings too prominent and the horns not present enough, the ear didn’t have a path to follow, and the effect was lost. The rest of the movement struggles to come back to it, with the swan hymn appearing in spiccato strings, then in wrestling low brass, and lonely attempts at the soaring theme. Heartbreakingly, the moment is over far too soon and never reappears in quite the same way. It is the sound of flight and yearning, and usually brings me right to tears. Over sunset-colored strings, the horns play an unforgettable ostinato, punctuated by a soaring theme in the winds and cellos. It is surely one of music’s greatest moments.
The highlight of the Fifth is the masterful finale, whose main theme is known as the “Swan Hymn,” and was inspired by a flock of swans circling Sibelius’ home. The majestic music may seem to play itself, but in Maazel’s hands, the moments of greatest clarity were somehow lost in a muddle, and passages that should have been playful fell victim to his all-controlling beat.
The Fifth Symphony contains the idiomatic Sibelian techniques that make his music great: pedal points that transform the lines above them, tiny motifs that are assembled and reassembled into themes, and orchestration that astonishes with every listen. But these few bolts of energy only threw the flatness of the rest into relief for instance, the storm passage itself was disappointingly placid. Only rarely did he throw caution to the wind, such as at the very end of the storm passage. Maazel’s performance was hobbled by slow tempos and suppressed dynamics. The clouds clear, and the work ends in grand yet serene affirmation. Eventually the music accelerates into a violent storm, driven by subterranean scales in the basses. As the music builds in breadth and intensity, an eloquent trombone solo states the main theme.
These habits can straitjacket the players.Ĭondensed into one movement, the Seventh has a meandering opening that can’t seem to decide if it is mournful or hopeful. He also tends to impose tempo choices independently of what is indicated in the score. He can overconduct, beating time and dictating solos in such a way that the orchestra does not have a chance to build up its own energy. But the collaboration fell short of what it could have been.Ī master of conducting technique, Maazel has two habits that sometimes do not work in the music’s favor. The delicious program and the distinguished orchestra promised an evening of musical transcendence. Lorin Maazel led the players in a backwards tour of three Sibelius symphonies, beginning with the single-movement Seventh, moving on to the inimitable Fifth, and ending with the more traditional First. Throngs of the well-dressed faithful came for their periodic worship of the Vienna Philharmonic at Carnegie Hall on Friday night.
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