Gustavo Dudamel and Venezuela Youth Orchestra play Shostakovich’s Leningrad Symphony in Alicante

After almost a year involving two postponements that included military action against the state and then an earthquake, the Venezuela Youth Orchestra finally took the stage at ADDA, Alicante under the internationally famous directorship of Gustavo Dudamel. The experience was worth the wait.

The orchestra’s programme featured a single work, Shostakovich’s Leningrad Symphony, his seventh symphony. I have written elsewhere on the possible meaning contained in the piece, so I will not repeat myself here.

What was undoubtedly true about this particular performance of the work, and a qualification that would be heard quite rarely, was the extraordinary number of musicians on stage. This certainly gave the music extra power when it was needed. Precisely how many musicians were on stage is not important, but regular concert goer will be interested in the observation that the number of double basses reached double figures.

The Youth Orchestra of Venezuela is made up of players ranging from 14 to 19 years of age. I heard Jakub Hrůša say recently that he is not a follower of the “required age” theory about musical performance, stating that musician of whatever age will perform the most profound and the lightest scores as pieces of music. Differences in interpretation are not born of maturity: they are a product of what the music signifies – or indeed does not signify - to a performer at the time of the performance. We would not, for instance, demand that only 19-year-olds should perform Shostakovich’s First Symphony, to be heard in Alicante later this week, because that was the age of the composer when it was first performed.

But that said, what was truly impressive about this performance was the apparent musical maturity displayed by these players. Gustavo Dudamel’s reading of the score was conventional overall, but the speed at which he chose to open the work was surprising. Previously, I have been used to the tempo of the first movement’s opening from the recordings I have and the quick survey of these reveals that the composer’s tempo marking of allegretto usually allows space for the opening theme to make its sophisticated point. Gustavo Dudamel chose to open the work with what sounded like an allegro first movement, prompting me to think that the performers wanted to end the evening as quickly as possible, as a result of their hectic tour schedule. But, having made the point, the tempo did settle to an allegretto for the remainder of the movement. I was equally surprised by the senority of the woodwind chords early in the symphony. Initially, I felt that these had missed their point of balance, with perhaps a particular part underplayed.

But why am I concentrating on minor shortcomings of performance when the overall experience was so memorable? Ask a critic. Overall the musicianship of these young players was beyond criticism, and Gustavo Dudamel and the orchestra provided an experience that I am sure no-one in the audience will ever forget.

In the conflict climax of the first movement, the orchestra’s weight really did come into its own. Before that, the colour of the composer’s orchestration was displayed to the full, muted brass, pizzicato strings and spiky woodwind all sounded out clearly, never retiring, never dominating, all combining their textures to communicate a musical experience like no other.

It would be wrong to single out individual performances from such an array of talent, but I am going to do so. The horn section in general and its principal were outstanding, as was the diminutive pianist in this very important part within the orchestral texture. When the first movement explodes into conflict, the orchestral sound was quite outstanding. Throughout, the string textures were precise, but the way in which they added the story underneath the tumult was quite outstanding.

And at the movement’s end, the drum beat of dictatorship, of the false promises of populism is still there, reminding all of us that we can still be fooled. At the work’s end the three-note threat is also still in evidence, reminding us that dictators should always be feared, whatever their politics.

Personally, I find the symphony’s emotional core comes in the third movement. The sonorities here are different. Last night the Venezuela Youth Orchestra under Gustavo Dudamel played these to perfection. Up until now, despite having heard the symphony literally hundreds of times, I found it astounding to realize that the musical material of the symphony’s final three movements is largely derived from the opening themes. It somehow all made perfect sense.

There was an encore involving a quartet at the front of the stage. A miniature guitar, a harp, maracas and bass were joined by a solo violin to let rip with what was obviously a popular form in Venezuela. The orchestra accompanied, conducted by facial expressions and dance. And so we heard a performance of Alma Llanera by Gutierrez, which I am reliably informed by Wikipedia is derived from a dance called a jaropo and the piece is widely regarded as the unofficial Venezuelan national anthem. The musicians involved gave it their all, as did everyone else on the platform. It was a night to remember.  

It was a fitting and hopeful end to a concert that had been introduced as a memorial to the victims of Venezuela’s earthquake, and indeed the victims of Spain’s recent train crash. And let’s not forget the victims of war, no matter where or when.

Edmon Levon conducts the Valencia Youth Orchestra in Coleridge-Taylor, González Gomá, Rossini and Tchaikovsky, with Ignacio Soler

 

In human affairs, enthusiasm is often associated with youth, whereas competence that approaches perfection is usually only possible in maturity. Occasionally - just occasionally - the two qualities are combined in a single and therefore memorable event. Here, it was the music making of the Valencia Youth Orchestra. It married enthusiasm and perfection in a musical evening that all involved, musicians and audience alike, will never forget.

The Valencia Youth Orchestra can recruit players up to their mid-twenties, so here we are talking about musicians who are on the verge of their careers. In this concert, they were directed by their current guest conductor, Edmon Levon, who also introduced each piece to the audience.

The performers began with a piece by Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, an English composer, less well known in Spain than in the United Kingdom, where he is undergoing a revival that is reviving his music from an anonymity achieved by a hundred years of neglect. Despite playing for a US president and having packed out the Royal Albert Hall for years on end with his Hiawatha, his music must now be re-discovered. A movement from his African Suite had more than enough to spark interest in his always melodic music.

Enrique González Gomá, whose Ofrenda a Colombina followed, is a little-known composer even in his native Spain. He was a Valencian by birth, from Tavernes, born in 1899 and living until 1977. After the bravura and frenzy of an African dance, González Gomá’s piece offered a significant contrast. Quiet and reflective, even impressionistic, this music explores textures to evoke feelings. The effect was both magical and surprising.

In comparison to what proceeded it, Rossini’s Bassoon Concerto is quite a well-known work, though in over 50 years of concert going, I was hearing for the first time in performance. Ignacio Soler as soloist was both faultless in execution and as enthusiastic about the music as the orchestra he fronted. Rossini’s treatment of the form was distinctly operatic, with the bassoon often sounding like a singer delivering an opera aria in Rossini’s distinctly bravura, if sometimes rather predictable style. The quality of invention in his music, however, is undeniable, even if at times one feels as though one may have heard it before somewhere else!

The enthusiasm of the audience reaction prompted Ignacio Soler to present an encore, for which he was joined by two of the bassoons from the orchestra to play the Tango by Martinez. In this piece, a perhaps cliché tune is passed skilfully between the three players. The sonority of the bassoon trio is utterly surprising, and the ensemble suggests improvisation, even in its absence.

In the second half, the Valencia Youth Orchestra played one of the symphonies that define music. Tchaikovsky Pathetique, Symphony No. 6, is not just a staple of the orchestral repertoire, it is one of its mainstays. This is a work that not only never disappoints, but it also actually grows with repeated hearings.

It is music that, I believe, is ruined by applause between movements. The transition, especially from movements three to four, is crucial to the work’s emotional argument and all tension associated with being “right up there” one moment and “right down there” in the next is dissipated by audience intervention. Edmon Levon, I suspect, agrees with this, and when the audience applauded after the first movement, he half turned to acknowledge but in a single gesture managed to communicate that the end of the work would be more appropriate.

Tchaikovsky 6 is a mammoth work that demands real musical maturity alongside perfection of ensemble. There were one or two rhythmic stutters in the fast third movement, but nothing to detract from the experience. Personally, I found the horns of the opening of the fourth too loud, but I am splitting hairs.

The audience reaction to this great music was nothing less than ecstatic. Thus, we were treated to an encore. What to play after a work like Tchaikovsky 6 is a problem. Edmon Levon contrasted Tchaikovsky’s emotional paroxysms with Ravel’s detachment. We heard the final section of the Mother Goose suite, and its largely modal harmonies were quite surprising after the symphony’s outbursts. We had a real Valencia bash to finish, a piece that the orchestra played largely undirected, with Edmon Levon taking a seat in the stalls. At the end, the whole orchestra stood, still playing. The audience followed suit, applauding.