BSO Beethoven and Shostakovich

Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra, Valeriy Sokolov, vln, Kees Bakels, Beethoven 5, Shostakovich Violin Concerto no.1, Portsmouth Guildhall, Jan 14th.

Expectation can be a heavy burden. I've never had a bad word for any BSO concert here, and still haven't, but in this great time for Shostakovich, with Julian Barnes' book due out shortly and the great man looking all the more like the colossus that is such a strong candidate for Greatest Composer of the C20th, Valeriy Sokolov's account of the first violin concerto might not have lived up to the crazy standard one could have hoped for.
It begins in subdued fashion and the orchestra were fine with that. Sokolov's playing was soulful and almost gentle but, as it progressed, I began to wonder if this was the same concerto given such an electrifying performance at the Proms a couple of years ago. One passage sounded wooden and perhaps that was the desired effect but as the third movement began with its singing style passacaglia and moved into a sharp cadenza, there was no doubting Sokolov's technique. What on earth was he supposed to do, it was brilliant and led into the dramatic burlesque brio of a bravura finale but it hadn't quite taken me with it. You can't win them all.
I will be interested to find out what the encore was. When I guessed it was Ligeti's arrangement of Bach, I meant Kurtag, of course. The haunting crossover of something like Bartok with baroque phrases will be well worth finding out about.
Liadov's Kikimora filled the difficult position of hors d'oeuvres but opened the set poetically and atmospherically with its story of a 'diminutive but malicious witch with a body the size of a pencil'. In ten minutes, the piece uses much of the orchestra's range and Liadov can be looked at with some respect henceforth.
But if ever an old warhorse can be relied upon to guarantee an evening, it must be Beethoven 5. Everyone knows the first four notes, some of the most famous in music for their characteristic Beethoven chutzpah, and the rest of it only gets better.
I'll be forever haunted by a third form music exam, having to follow the score of the first movement and having to note down the bar at which the music was stopped. Being a musical illiterate, then even more so than now, I missed the indication that the first bars are repeated, immediately got hopelessly lost and soon sat back and just listened to the music. I scored 0 for that but was still in demand for end of term quizzes because the class knew that I was their best bet to have on their side for music questions, and other stuff most of them had never heard of, and probably still would be.
The first movement was fleet-footed and Kees Bakels nimbly defied the advancing years  (it appears it was his 71st birthday today but it wasn't mentioned), enjoying the music as much as anybody. The second movement has the gorgeous yearning phrases that I imagine Dvorak spent much of his life trying to imitate, not without some success, but Beethoven's not written a symphony until he's expressed something muscular, noble and spirited. This is when the Romantic temperament of the individual emerged from the discipline of Classicism but before it got out of hand. I can always understand why Beethoven is for so many the Greatest even if I'm more of a Bach man in the final analysis. And he never lets you down with an understated ending. No composer ever started the final flourishes of a symphony earlier than Beethoven. One climax, then another, a few more chords before building to what might or might not be the big finish until finally it is. It is a very good way of rousing the audience to more enthusiastic applause than they might have awarded had the music finished when it first sounded like it was going to. Thank you, Beethoven. In 1974, or thereabouts, when other teenage boys had pictures of Suzi Quatro, or possibly Led Zeppelin, on their bedroom wall, I had a poster of Beethoven. It's unlikely we will see the likes of him again.
And then, overheard at the bus stop,
Pierre Boulez died. The conductor who thought he was a composer.
Yes, 'thought he was'.
And David, erm, David Bowie.
Well, he won't be much missed.
I don't mind much what they say about Boulez as a composer but elderly people can be as delinquent, thoughtless and downright disrespectful as the young who don't yet know any better. On the other hand, there's nothing quite as entertaining as other people's conversations.
And, if you are nearby Portsmouth Central Library in the next few days, go in and pick up a handful of the CD's they're selling off at a pound a time, even the two-disc set of Messiah and 3-disc set of Alfred Deller were still only a quid each. They only need to be playable to be worth picking up a few. Mind you, those two, plus some Harp Concertos and the Berg and Stravinsky Violin Concertos aren't there any more.