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Tere tulemast!
Aug. 14th, 2018 09:03 pmAs there was a heavy shower just after lunch yesterday, I headed first to the National Gallery for the relatively small Thomas Cole exhibition. The centrepiece of the exhibition is Cole's series The Course of Empire, presented as a not-particularly-subtle allegory for our own times; there were other scenes of the late eighteenth and nineteenth century US, documenting, for example, the arrival of the railroads with implied disapproval. Among paintings by other artists in the exhibition I particularly enjoyed F E Church's Above the Clouds at Sunrise. I took the opportunity to revisit Turner and Constable in the permanent collection, as well as Akseli Gallen-Kallela's Lake Keitele, with renewed interest after my Helsinki visit, and also with a view to the Nordic-themed concert to follow.
The weather had settled by late afternoon, and it became apparent that the queue for Prom 42 was in fact a long one. I found this curious, because the programme combined two popular and familiar pieces with a more modern and unknown one; it seemed that there wouldn't be many people attracted to both, but I was wrong. I had ticket number 11; under typical circumstances I wouldn't have expected a good spot on the rail, but the presence of the piano often shifts the centre of gravity to the left, and in fact I had a pretty good place, though still on the right hand side.
The Estonian Festival Orchestra and Paavo Järvi began with Arvo Pärt's Symphony No. 3. This was new to me; I had high hopes but was also prepared for disappointment. In fact I enjoyed it; it comes from 1971, in the composer's "transitional" period, after rejecting the serialist approach but before his more well-known tintinnabuli style became established. Inspired by plainsong, there are nonetheless some quite richly orchestrated sections. I do wonder how well the accelerating timpani obbligato would have travelled to the Gallery. With the piece well received in the hall, I was surprised to see Järvi beckoning, and a tall, bearded figure, elderly yet sprightly, bounded down the steps from the stalls onto the stage - Pärt himself - to share in the applause.
It was the orchestra's first appearance at the Proms (though of course not necessarily the musicians'), and I wondered whether they had been briefed on the traditions. The cry of HEAVE-HO! was followed by the leader nervously approaching the piano to play the "A" for tuning, at which of course there was the over-enthusiastic round of applause. A lone cry from the audience; the leader looked up, smiling, and replied something evidently friendly but unintelligible. "It sounded like tenor v sax!", said someone standing near me. With a crib of likely phrases and a little help from Google translate, during the interval I established the more likely Tere tulemast! ("Welcome!"). Greeting visiting orchestras in their own language is a tradition that has sadly faded over the years; this brief greeting had the merit of avoiding the navigation of Estonian's fourteen cases.
The piano was on stage for Grieg's Piano Concerto - yes, the one with Morecambe and Wise and Andrew Preview, as even the programme notes now acknowledge. Playing all the right notes in the right order on this occasion was Georgian pianist Khatia Buniatishvili. There were smiles all round; it was very clear that there was a chemistry between soloist, conductor, and orchestra, to everyone's benefit. I'm not sure Estonians go in for exuberance, but this was perhaps as close as they would get. I was surprised in particular how little pedal she used in the final movement, but it was very effective. An encore was inevitable: Debussy's Clair de Lune, contrasting the concerto by playing it at an extraordinarily slow pace, almost coming to a halt on several occasions.
In the second half of the concert, the final scheduled work was Sibelius's Symphony No. 5. Again Järvi and the orchestra were inspired and energetic; the double basses producing the flapping sounds of the wings in the "swan hymn" theme of the final movement; the complete command of the hall during the final, irregular, drawn-out chords. The slow encore at the end of the first half meant that I would already miss my regular train; I could see, from the notes on the camera bounding up and down the rail, that there would be an encore - in fact, the notes said "Encore 1", which implied there would also be a second. And so, first the entertaining waltz Spring Fly by Lepo Sumera, and then, the more familiar Shepherdess Dance by Hugo Alfvén.
The weather had settled by late afternoon, and it became apparent that the queue for Prom 42 was in fact a long one. I found this curious, because the programme combined two popular and familiar pieces with a more modern and unknown one; it seemed that there wouldn't be many people attracted to both, but I was wrong. I had ticket number 11; under typical circumstances I wouldn't have expected a good spot on the rail, but the presence of the piano often shifts the centre of gravity to the left, and in fact I had a pretty good place, though still on the right hand side.
The Estonian Festival Orchestra and Paavo Järvi began with Arvo Pärt's Symphony No. 3. This was new to me; I had high hopes but was also prepared for disappointment. In fact I enjoyed it; it comes from 1971, in the composer's "transitional" period, after rejecting the serialist approach but before his more well-known tintinnabuli style became established. Inspired by plainsong, there are nonetheless some quite richly orchestrated sections. I do wonder how well the accelerating timpani obbligato would have travelled to the Gallery. With the piece well received in the hall, I was surprised to see Järvi beckoning, and a tall, bearded figure, elderly yet sprightly, bounded down the steps from the stalls onto the stage - Pärt himself - to share in the applause.
It was the orchestra's first appearance at the Proms (though of course not necessarily the musicians'), and I wondered whether they had been briefed on the traditions. The cry of HEAVE-HO! was followed by the leader nervously approaching the piano to play the "A" for tuning, at which of course there was the over-enthusiastic round of applause. A lone cry from the audience; the leader looked up, smiling, and replied something evidently friendly but unintelligible. "It sounded like tenor v sax!", said someone standing near me. With a crib of likely phrases and a little help from Google translate, during the interval I established the more likely Tere tulemast! ("Welcome!"). Greeting visiting orchestras in their own language is a tradition that has sadly faded over the years; this brief greeting had the merit of avoiding the navigation of Estonian's fourteen cases.
The piano was on stage for Grieg's Piano Concerto - yes, the one with Morecambe and Wise and Andrew Preview, as even the programme notes now acknowledge. Playing all the right notes in the right order on this occasion was Georgian pianist Khatia Buniatishvili. There were smiles all round; it was very clear that there was a chemistry between soloist, conductor, and orchestra, to everyone's benefit. I'm not sure Estonians go in for exuberance, but this was perhaps as close as they would get. I was surprised in particular how little pedal she used in the final movement, but it was very effective. An encore was inevitable: Debussy's Clair de Lune, contrasting the concerto by playing it at an extraordinarily slow pace, almost coming to a halt on several occasions.
In the second half of the concert, the final scheduled work was Sibelius's Symphony No. 5. Again Järvi and the orchestra were inspired and energetic; the double basses producing the flapping sounds of the wings in the "swan hymn" theme of the final movement; the complete command of the hall during the final, irregular, drawn-out chords. The slow encore at the end of the first half meant that I would already miss my regular train; I could see, from the notes on the camera bounding up and down the rail, that there would be an encore - in fact, the notes said "Encore 1", which implied there would also be a second. And so, first the entertaining waltz Spring Fly by Lepo Sumera, and then, the more familiar Shepherdess Dance by Hugo Alfvén.