![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I expected Prom 55 would be popular, so it was no surprise to find myself further back again, but only in the second row of the arena; as I approached, I realised the cimbalom - something between a piano and a zither - had been placed on the day Prommers side, so I was nicely lined up for that. I also noticed a hand-held microphone on the composer's rostrum. "I hope he doesn't think he's Daniel Barenboim", I observed. "So long as he sticks to the music, that's fine".
In fact, Iván Fischer did stick to the music, with the Budapest Festival Orchestra, though in an informal and non-rigorous way, as he introduced the pieces in the first half of the concert: "We have taken the opportunity ... to insert a few cadenzas" - and so on. It's playing with fire to tamper with the classical canon these days, though historically it wasn't that unusual, and on this occasion, I think it was justified and worked well, because the soloists were on cimbalom and violin representing the Gypsy music culture of central Europe that was itself reinterpreted by composers such as Brahms and Liszt, and these were playful pieces. So, we began with an improvisation by Jenő Lisztes on the cimbalom, before moving on to Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsodies - numbers 1 and 3 (confusingly, corresponding to numbers 14 and 6 in the piano version) orchestrated by Liszt and Franz Doppler (no apparent relation to the more famous Christian Doppler), and Brahms's Hungarian Dances - numbers 1 and 11, with father and son duo József Csócsi Lendvai and József Lendvay on violins. In between, Sarasate's Zigeunerweisen, and a fragment from Paganini/Brahms as an encore.
The second half of the concert returned to classical convention, with Brahms's Symphony No 1. Like in 2015, again I was struck more with the obvious influence of Bach than of Beethoven - there are some points in this symphony where the flow is inevitable, not because of fate but because of logic. If the first half of the concert was an exercise in fluidity and improvisation, the second was a classic demonstration of fixed points in musical space and time. I can't shake the association of the last movement with Michael White's 1980s election Guardian piece comparing a Labour press conference to a gay wedding, but I think Brahms has better stood the test of time. At least references to it in the Guardian have to have a hint of irony now.
It seemed obvious that there would be an encore, but what would it be? We'd already had two of Brahms's Hungarian Dances in the concert, so on the surface, more seemed unlikely. However, Fischer announced a performance of number 4 - "with the original melody" - what could that mean? It transpired that, like in 2014, some of the orchestra would be singing along. My Hungarian isn't that good, but I think everyone had a good time.
In fact, Iván Fischer did stick to the music, with the Budapest Festival Orchestra, though in an informal and non-rigorous way, as he introduced the pieces in the first half of the concert: "We have taken the opportunity ... to insert a few cadenzas" - and so on. It's playing with fire to tamper with the classical canon these days, though historically it wasn't that unusual, and on this occasion, I think it was justified and worked well, because the soloists were on cimbalom and violin representing the Gypsy music culture of central Europe that was itself reinterpreted by composers such as Brahms and Liszt, and these were playful pieces. So, we began with an improvisation by Jenő Lisztes on the cimbalom, before moving on to Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsodies - numbers 1 and 3 (confusingly, corresponding to numbers 14 and 6 in the piano version) orchestrated by Liszt and Franz Doppler (no apparent relation to the more famous Christian Doppler), and Brahms's Hungarian Dances - numbers 1 and 11, with father and son duo József Csócsi Lendvai and József Lendvay on violins. In between, Sarasate's Zigeunerweisen, and a fragment from Paganini/Brahms as an encore.
The second half of the concert returned to classical convention, with Brahms's Symphony No 1. Like in 2015, again I was struck more with the obvious influence of Bach than of Beethoven - there are some points in this symphony where the flow is inevitable, not because of fate but because of logic. If the first half of the concert was an exercise in fluidity and improvisation, the second was a classic demonstration of fixed points in musical space and time. I can't shake the association of the last movement with Michael White's 1980s election Guardian piece comparing a Labour press conference to a gay wedding, but I think Brahms has better stood the test of time. At least references to it in the Guardian have to have a hint of irony now.
It seemed obvious that there would be an encore, but what would it be? We'd already had two of Brahms's Hungarian Dances in the concert, so on the surface, more seemed unlikely. However, Fischer announced a performance of number 4 - "with the original melody" - what could that mean? It transpired that, like in 2014, some of the orchestra would be singing along. My Hungarian isn't that good, but I think everyone had a good time.