The world premiere in this concert was Macabre Dances by Jan Sandstrom. The program notes explained that after the composer had suffered a stroke, he experienced a series of strange visions and dreams, apparently caused by his condition. This these gave titles to the movements, Horses in the sea, Stolen signature, Suburb in the east, Crawl in the Mona Lisa, and, finally, Finally. Throughout, there was a sense that the music was familiar, but it was accompanied by, overlaid with, stretched between or compressed within other unique and different elements in the way that made the entire experience unfamiliar, even strange. It was like seeing something you know well, and then realising that you don’t, in fact, know it at all. But the effect was not surreal: on the contrary, given the composer’s own program note, the work vividly portrayed the perceptual experience of a physical condition that none of us wants to have. The Mona Lisa movement was even given an encore at the end of the concert and, even on second hearing, its strangeness proved enduring. Its musical worth was only enhanced.
Roland Pontinen was soloist in the Liszt Piano
Concerto No.1. Now this is a work that is both succinct and expansive. It’s succinct because it’s all over
in under twenty minutes. It’s expansive
because of the way musical ideas are shared across the solo part and the
orchestra. The model, until then, had very much been rather formulaic, an
opportunity for the soloist to show off with an accompaniment from a larger
sound. But this concerto tried to create a tone poem where the soloist and the
orchestra truly shared material. Guest conductor of the ADDA orchestra, Christian
Lindberg, ensured that the elements all hung together. Roland Pontinen’s encore was a Chopin mazurka, a quiet, unspectacular
way to underline his control and virtuosity. The ADDA audience listened with
great intensity.
And then, surprisingly, there was a second encore of a
quite different character. It may have been a set piece, but its comedy was
born of musical virtuosity, and the audience lapped it up. Roland Pontinen and
Christian Lindberg offered a Hungarian Dance of Brahms arranged, if that be the
word, for piano and trombone. It was a farce, and all the jokes came off.
In the second half, this particular listener
experienced an even greater surprise. Schumann’s fourth symphony, at least in
the usual numbering, is a familiar work, whose twists and turns I thought were
completely familiar. I was wrong. Played almost without a pause between the
movements, the piece and phrasing told a linear, novel-like story. This surely
was musical interpretation of the highest standard, and it is Christian
Lindberg who takes the credit for the direction, but it was also the wonderful ADDA
orchestra that performed perfectly.
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