March 27 & 28, 2024
Roy Thomson Hall
Toronto, Ontario – Canada
Toronto Symphony Orchestra, Osmo Vänskä, conductor; Johannes Moser, cello.
Edvard GRIEG: Suite No. 1 from Peer Gynt
Detlev GLANERT: Cello Concerto
Jean SIBELIUS: Symphony No. 2
Adam Sherkin | 4 APR 2024
Now three months on from an impressive year past, celebrating their 100th anniversary (1923-2023), the Toronto Symphony Orchestra offered a decidedly secular Springtide program of northern European music in the week before Easter. The more novel component of this bill was the North American premiere of a cello concerto by Dutch composer Detlev Glanert. Written for the German-Canadian cellist Johannes Moser, the premiere of this 30-minute work — a co-commission from the TSO — brought both buzz and bluster to the evening’s program. Framing this modernity was its near opposite: Edvard Grieg’s first suite from Peer Gynt and Sibelius’ Symphony No. 2 in D major, Op. 43 on the other side of the intermission.
Conductor Laureate of the Minnesota Orchestra and lately former music director of Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra, celebrated Finnish conductor Osmo Vänskä was at the proverbial helm for these proceedings. While the TSO has been enjoying a fruitful partnership with the Gustav Gimeno since 2020, such guest conductors bring welcome breaths of air, especially when their sensibilities and interpretive gifts align so well with the repertoire at hand.
Curiously enough, it was Gimeno who conducted the world premiere of Detlev Ganert’s Cello Concerto (2022) — the middle piece on Thursday night’s program — in January of 2024 with the Luxembourg Philharmonic. But he was in his native Madrid, leading the Orquesta Titular del Teatro Real for this particular week.
Serving aptly as an overture, Grieg’s Peer Gynt is a shoo-in, as classical crowd-pleasers go, and was programmed at the appropriate juncture here. From the concert’s inception, Vänskä initiated a state of flexibility and lyrical space, particularly for the woodwinds. While it sounded as though the players needed a bit of time (at least 20 measures) to find their collective bearings, the freeing directive paid off. Vänskä was consistent in his attempt to subtlely shift dynamic and timbral effects. The players swiftly got the hang of things and responded well to Vänskä’s enfranchising nudges. Principal oboist Sarah Jeffrey has ever been a stalwart member of the TSO and brought beauty and competence to many solo passages Thursday night. Both throughout the Grieg and in the third movement of Sibelius especially, Jeffrey shone through the jangle with a well-rounded sonorous savvy and melodic aplomb.
The second piece of the suite was more convincing. Such austerity of line and melodic sighs emanate from a darker region of our globe, with limited winter light. It seemed apparent how familiar a Canadian orchestra might be with this adapted Scandinavian sensibility. The affinity was palpable but not sequestered to Nordic experience alone. It is safe to postulate that the TSO is well positioned to realize Scandinavian music sympathetically, observed even more keenly in the Sibelius symphony.
Some lovely pianissimo playing occurred throughout the rest of the suite. Hushed dynamic control from both the podium and the string sections was admirable, if not always consistent. By the time we arrived at “In the Hall of the Mountain King,” an interesting cue from Vänskä urged a steady, “back-of-the-beat” approach to this music. By work’s end, the melodic lines were obscured by a boisterous percussion section, too loud and edgy. That is equally the fault of the hall itself, which has been plagued since its 1982 origin with uneven acoustics and deadened audience zones. (Gimeno himself has reconfigured the orchestra of late, placing percussion entirely stage left, presumably in an effort to overcome some of these inherent challenges for both listener and player alike.)
Osmo Vänskä (credit: Lisa Marie Mazzucco)
A well-respected composer on the European scene, Detlev Glanert is highly regarded for his neo-conservative style, which integrates past and present: the melodically attractive and the rhythmically compelling. As House Composer for the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra for ten years, he honed his symphonic practice as a craftsman of symphonic sonority. He cultivates a notable economy of means in his writing, garnering an alluring expressive palette from modest sets of materials, techniques and structural forms.
Glanert’s new cello concerto is in a taut three movements, performed without break. It begins effectively, giving off the impression that this groping, darkening music has been ongoing for some time; us listeners are simply tapping into the proceedings part-way through. Glanert achieves much color and gravitas from the outset, setting up a well-balanced musical argument born of soaring cello lines linked to genetic codes to which Elgar and Brahms were privy. The cello is almost always at the vanguard here, often leading transitions from one section to the next. Effective cadenzas and intimate, haunting solos buoy the ensemble along to the concerto’s end.
Throughout the second movement, rollicking dance modes are used to great effect, described by Guy Rickards’ program notes as “a monstrous Waltz, self-destroying machine, building to an explosion.” Despite such climactic features, some of the most impressionable materials occurred during pared-down dialogues between soloist and only a handful of instruments: a simple passage featuring glockenspiel, harp, celeste, and tubular bells unfolded as a backdrop for soloist Johannes Moser to cast lyrical spells and divulge one of the most significant triumphs of this new concerto: its ability to sing and narrate such intimate, humanizing musical tales, all the while ensconced in a grand platform of three-movement virtuoso concerto form.
Johannes Moser brought immediate integrity and assured command to the stage. Not only does he boast technical prowess and idiomatic showmanship in his presentation, but he has the rare ability to cut right to the quick, engaging the audience by the heart and drawing us into his own brand of storytelling, never too subjective nor overly self-indulgent. There is a generosity in his playing that served this particular music rather well. While the orchestral tuttis were at times full to the brim with quirky characterful motifs (think Bartok, Ravel, Berlioz, and even Khachaturian) Moser’s individuality remained steadfast, full-throated, and ever integral.
It was a shame, therefore, that we couldn’t always hear his virtuosity and impressive level of music-making. Whether a function of orchestration or, again, the fault of the hall itself, the cello’s lines were drowned out at times, obscured amongst the middle-string textures especially, no matter how earnest Moser’s efforts were. Nevertheless, the variety of musical profiles here — from the deranged dances to the unearthly bells — was welcomed and altogether worthy. The vehicle for both composer and soloist won the day. The ending, in particular, offered surprises, with two cellos from the ensemble joining the soloist in a final sign-off.
Could this new concerto have justified its means in a shorter amount of time? Certainly. The piece was too long-winded at 30 minutes, and a duration nearer than the 20-minute mark might have served it better. Speaking with Moser in person at intermission, he expressed his gratitude for Glanert’s direct support and encouragement during the rehearsal process, particularly with the Toronto Symphony in the days preceding. Moser shared that he had heard Glanert’s opera writing nearly 15 years prior to the conceiving of this concerto and was struck by the lyricism, theatricality, and drama that Glanert demonstrated at his command. This was on ample display during the concerto and proved the fruits of a propitious urging and meeting of both artists.
Dutch composer Detlev Glanert and cellist Johannes Moser take a bow, as conductor Osmo Vänskä gestures for members of the orchestra to stand. (credit: Adam Sherkin)
After intermission, the full complement of the TSO settled in for Jean Sibelius’ 1902 masterwork, the Second Symphony. Oft-played and too oft-lauded, this is standard fare for many orchestras the world over, no less so for the TSO. Jukka-Pekka Saraste, a veteran Sibelius interpreter, was music director of the TSO from 1994 to 2001; Saraste’s take on such a work must still be in the contemporaneous blood of these musicians, as such conductor-provenance, commingled with aforementioned Nordic sensibilities heard amongst Canadians all comes to bear on such a reading.
Vänskä conjured a committed opening from the players. A firm declaration of line color and balance was notable from the beginning, evolving in a more advanced phase to delineate foreground, middle ground, and background as the first movement played on. The ear was struck by a sympathy of expression, perchance conveyed best by those artists who dwell in northern climes. (Glenn Gould himself was known to seek out a lingua franca, an “Idea of North,” divined from those composers who first originated it in the Old World: the Scandinavians and, specifically, Jean Sibelius.
At times, Vänskä and the TSO found synchronous pathways in this music, but not always, as the ensemble retreated to its own well-worn roads within the symphony. There were admirable interpretive choices that Vänskä made, and one felt the pull and struggle from the various sections to follow his lead and execute familiar passages anew.
Following an animated and verdant first “Allegretto,” a uniquely slow and ponderous second movement (“Andante, ma rubato”) took shape. The opening material in the double basses was compelling and compact in shape. Principal bassist Jeffrey Beecher has helmed and nourished an increasingly impressive band of bassists since joining the orchestra in 2006. He has set a fine standard and should be applauded for such commitment and exacting musicianship. His corps seems to inspire the cello section, too.
Vänskä’s vision for this movement was vertical and austere. Extended pauses, grand and otherwise, that Vänskä insisted upon were a notable feature of interpretation here. While dramatic and pregnant with intention, the augmentation of silence appeared to go hand in hand with more sluggish tempi and a lack of rhythmic pep when desired. These extreme pauses were heard previously on the program, in the Grieg suite, and at any rate, the results remained unconvincing: the symphony’s second movement became too long, too labored, and too dull. Contrarily, Vänskä’s piano range was remarkable. He wielded an impressive toolkit of soft gradations, hypnotizing soundscapes, and the ability to bring collective string bowing almost a standstill. These mystical moments didn’t quite make up for the stodginess of the movement overall, which, on balance, felt a dash too myopic: without form and momentum.
As the harmonic ice sheets of the “Andante” gave way to the third movement’s “Vivacissimo,” the evening began to pick up (as did some audience members who exited hastily before the final movement. Toronto traffic has become particularly horrendous, recently.) The upper strings suffered a lack of precision here, and the brass section followed suit with smudges and a lack of clarity from what really ought to be majestic interjections.
Vänskä persevered and brought yet more magical pianissimos to bear by the symphony’s finale. By the conductor’s design, the Beethovenian subtleties of Sibelius’s writing were well on display. Phrases were proclaimed and projected into space with less attention to their endings as was given to beginnings. Vänskä’s expertise yielded satisfying results and brought excitement and catharsis to the home stretch. With this forgiving Toronto audience clearly on board (and modestly enthralled), the rough-sounding edges were polished down, and the inelegant accents squared off to bring triumph and spirit to a rousing conclusion in this masterpiece of the late romantic symphonic canon, no matter how one shakes it.
The affinity for and devotion to this adopted Scandinavian music was moving to behold from the TSP. Jean Sibelius’s musical language and his own “Idea of North” carried the evening to a satisfying close and beyond, as the Toronto Symphony journeys onward, now 100 years and counting, lodged in a young, vibrant and ever-evolving 21st-century city. ■
EXTERNAL LINKS:
- Toronto Symphony Orchestra: tso.ca
- Osmo Vänskä: harrisonparrott.com/artists/osmo-vanska
- Johannes Moser: johannes-moser.com
Read more by Adam Sherkin.
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