We were aware of empty seats around us in the Guildhall and after the interval there were noises off which might have spoiled the atmosphere for some. A special offer of a reduced price of 19 pounds rather than, I think, 21.50 was not enough enticement to make people come and fill the place but the obvious appreciation of those that do go, plus some of the knowledgeable conversation one can overhear at the bus-stop afterwards, should be enough to ensure the BSO keep coming to Portsmouth for some time yet.The well-known Lieutenant Kije Suite filled the dreaded opening position on the programme, the piece one is least likely to remember afterwards. It is familiar enough not to need remembering but the Andante was new to me, or seemed so, and a gentle movement it will be worth returning to. On an evening when not all was to be bravura and dramatic, the principal cello, Jesper Svedberg, had a prominent part, as he was to do also in the symphony later on.
Then Tasmin made her entrance, at first apparently dressed as a Terry's Chocolate Orange. It was an eye-catching frock and you need to be good to carry such things off. That wasn't a worry. This was at least the fifth time I've seen her and she's never less than wonderful. There's never any doubt that she's enjoying it as much if not more than her audience, which was particularly clear in the dazzling third movement.
The Mendelssohn Violin Concerto (in E. It was news to me that there's an earlier one in D minor), insinuates itself quietly but immediately before soon raising the tone. It's one of the most memorable openings of any concerto, not for its fortissimo or grand entrance but for its confidence not to do that. There is plenty to thrill to coming up and Mendelssohn's first bars here are a contained masterstroke. Again, the Andante was a treasure with Tasmin trilling on one note while bowing others, illustrating perfectly one of many reasons why it is so much better to see such music played live rather than merely hear a recording or broadcast. But in the third movement, the fingerwork in the nimble dance of the vivace finale, was even better. Not that it needed to be any better in a great, lyrical account of one of the greatest in a deep repertoire of violin concertos.
But, what, no encore. We were out late, as it happened- the BSO concerts are usually a 9.30 finish on the dot- and so one can see why, but, if I was to be really over-demanding, I'd have swapped the Kije for a Bach Partita or even a sonata by Veracini.
Some recompense was soon had, though, when Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 1, 'Winter Daydreams', proved to be some way ahead of what I vaguely remembered it being. I had gone because it was Tasmin and the Mendelssohn and was making no secret of the fact that there were any number of other symphonies I'd rather have to accompany them. However, Tchaikovsky 1 was raised up in my estimation (and I hope it's pleased about that). Somehow reminding me of Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique, which is a very good thing to do, in not only its opening but at other times, too, and it did very much what it set out to do if the evocation of winter daydreams was a programmatic intention. Luckily, my homemade musical vocabulary consists mostly in a lack of any musical expertise but also, I hope, a determined avoidance of pretension and so I will not be advising that I thought it 'occupied the same soundscape' as the Berlioz and so I'm a bit surprised to find that Symphonie Fantastique was written in 1830 but Tchaikovsky 1 not until 1866. But perhaps things moved more slowly then. But I think it's fair to say that Russia and France were culturally more akin in the C19th than either shared with England.
David Daly, as principal double bass, also had a fine evening with some resonant, considered pizzicato.
But it was by no means all pacific, soporific and redolent of reverie. Tchaikovsky was to write some much bigger and louder pieces than this and he began to get warmed up by building to a few crescendos before the final, biggest, crashing one here during which the young conductor, Daniele Rustioni, became more animated before excelling himself by jumping round to face the audience on the last chord and I'm sure everybody enjoyed that. You can check You Tube for as long as you want but I don't think you'll find Karajan or Sir Malcolm Sargent doing that.
It's never anything less than a great evening with the BSO and/or Tasmin and I never tire of saying so. Portsmouth needs them a bit more than they need Portsmouth, perhaps, as well as any more of their kind. Honestly, we are never less than grateful.