Saturday 29 April 2000 Victoria Concert Hall	MASTERS SERIES Beethoven Symphony Cycle/Piano Fireworks
	Ludwig van BEETHOVEN (1770-1827) Coriolan Overture, op.62. Symphony No.1 in C major, op.21. Franz LISZT (1811-1886) Totentanz for Piano and Orchestra Piano Concerto No.1 in E-flat major Vladimir OVCHINNIKOV piano Petri SAKARI conductor

OVERALL NOISE RATING:
28 Apr - 4 (Handphones going off left, right and center. The management can surely do better than the sugary pre-concert announcement that everyone conveniently ignores. Why not just ban telco devices outright.)
29 Apr - 4 (... and of course, the next day, a handphone goes off and the woman owner actually had the cheek to hurry from Row C - right in front - out of the hall to answer the call, THEN come back in. All while the music is going on. By the way, it's already the 21st century, PLEASE stop clapping between movements!!!!)

The Noise Rating Index is a partially-objective measurement of pager and handphone blasts, 9pm and 10pm watch beeps, coughing-during-the-pianissimo-bits, intra-audience conversation and other mind-bogglingly inept noises emitted in the concert hall during actual performance of music. It is measured on a scale of 0 to 5, in increasing annoyance.

William Beh reports on the Friday performance: Those who have heard Sakari's highly-acclaimed recordings with the Iceland Symphony - in particular, the current Sibelius symphonic cycle on Naxos - will know that he brings a distinctive style of rhythm and tempo, like the signature brushstrokes of a master artist, to his conducting. It was therefore most interesting to see how he would translate his craft to the Singapore Symphony. Well, I have to say that he didn't disappoint, and it made for a most interesting night at the Vic. The programming itself was slightly unusual, with all-Beethoven symphonic music before and all-Liszt concertante music after the interval. (It was also puzzling that, given the popularity of the items and two "no-lose" composers, the concert was not totally sold out. [Exam season for the kids lah. - Ed.]) Sakari also rearranged the orchestral seating, switching the double basses and percussion to opposite sides of the stage, First and Second Violins on his left and right respectively, with the cellos inside left, in front of the double basses, and the violas in their customary position inside right. This alone hinted that there would be some changes from the usual orchestral sonorities we'd been hearing week in and out. Therefore, it was a bit of a letdown when the Coriolan Overture began in a somewhat tepid manner; Sakari's tempos were characteristically deliberate and on the slow side. After the initial "warming up", though, the orchestra responded magnificently, with high marks all round. Better still, it also carried over into the Beethoven First Symphony, with the woodwinds playing at the best I've heard all season. Again, Sakari tackled it with very telling rubato - I've never heard Beethoven played like this - and this eccentricity actually came off quite well. I'm not sure I'd go so far as to repeatedly listen to something like this record (perhaps not for Beethoven, anyway) but in the spontaniety of the performance, this form of music making is exactly why people still go to 'live' concerts. The discordant opening notes were effectively ambiguous and led into the incisive Allegro of the first movement nicely. The Andante cantabile flowed along with some grace, but the Menuetto and trio was much too slow at the strolling pace which Sakari adopted. It completely belied the breakneck pace and witty musical phrasing of the last movement, which brought the symphony to a resounding conclusion. The concert continued after the interval with Ovchinnikov's "fingers of steel" (I didn't coin this superheroic phrase, I just saw it on the concert poster) first hammering out Liszt's potboiler, the Totentanz, and then the First Piano Concerto. Sakari and the orchestra accompanied splendidly (again, full marks to everyone) but Ovchinnikov, of course, had the lion's share of the attention. Baring some glaring slips in both pieces, he tossed off the music with great panache and amazing technique, not to mention the amount of energy that he projected from the keyboard. Not surprisingly, the applause at the end just went on and on and on, until he finally obliged with an encore. It was both a pity and a puzzlement that, given the popularity of the works and composers, not to mention two eminent guest artistes, the concert was not totally sold out. Perhaps Sakari's singular approach might not appeal to everyone, but there is no denying the artistry of his reading.

BEETHOVEN: By Chia Han-Leon
The conductors of Finland are well-known, among other things, for conducting opera. Finland, after all, has one of the richest opera scenes on earth, and no good conductor from the land of a thousand lakes can not delve into the genre.

This operatic influence was readily apparent in the conducting style of Petri Sakari, former Chief Conductor of the Iceland Symphony Orchestra, presently MD of the Lohja Symphony Orchestra (Finland), and upcoming Chief Conductor of the Gävle Symphony Orchestra of Sweden.

Sakari and the SSO produced a solid performance of the Coriolan Overture. Considering the orchestra tends to need to warm up, they sounded great from the start, with good smooth textures and powerful timps (hey, Jon!). In terms of interpretation, Sakari paced very well, resulting in a reading full of the sense of breath as well as momentum, but avoiding rush. Bravo.

Sakari appears to belong to the class of conductors who prefer phrasing to beating (crudely speaking; loosely include opera and chorus conductors here). Rather than direct rhythms or pulse of the music, he tends much more to mould the phrases. The result is that this Beethoven No.1 sounds more smoothed over, with only a moderate level of "contrast". Technically the performance is good, but it lacks personality, or even "risk".

On the other hand, there is an interesting tradeoff in the form of the third movement. As William has pointed out (see sidebar), Sakari's view of it is rather slowish - far from the implied scherzo nature of the music. But look, the movement marking is "Menuetto", or minuet - which is a moderately-paced dance. It seems to me that the dramatist in Sakari has decided to interpret the movement as a dance as such; hence, the effect of this interpretation is that it is more smooth and dancey, than it is "scherzic". My main reservation is that it still rather too weighty and lacking contrast.

Just as Sakari appeared to be going into the Andante after the first movement, the audience clapped. In that briefest of pauses, the smattering of noise disrupted him. It was clear that the symphonic atmosphere had been broken. Now listen, there is a very good reason why we do not clap in between movements, especially in a symphony. The reason is: a symphony, although it is a multi-part work, is meant to be a coherent whole. The "atmosphere" in which one movement ends connects to the next. When people clap indiscriminately (or naively), it destroys that atmosphere - the sensation is like having one's train of thought disrupted, which is what happened to Mr S T Coleridge when he was writing Kubla Khan... but that's another story...

The Andante was actually rather fast, and similarly more dancelike rather than the "cantabile" ("song-like") as indicated. Again, I am tempted to attribute this to the more "operatic" outlook of Sakari's interpretation. In the finale, things got more exciting. The reading was sensitively detailed and more colourful. More contrast of the different lines, more bite and more "blood rush".

The alternative seating arrangement of the orchestra should have produced some interesting orchestral colours and transparency - but actually, it didn't happen. I found that the middle voices were absent, while the upper and lower instruments took "centrestage". As a result, the colour range actually diminished.

Overall, the performance was even, though I won't exactly say refined. The spirit and faith with which Sakari conducted the concert was admirable, both he and the orchestra skilled. These qualities have also been demonstrated in his recent Naxos recordings of Sibelius (start here). Here then, is a case of me agreeing with the technical skill, but not the interpretation.

LISZT: By Johann D'Souza
This year, fans of piano music should not be disappointed. The SSO has lined up a string of Tchaikovsky winners from the likes of Freddy Kempf and Nikolai Lugansky ( both will play at the Piano Festival in June 2000). Barry Douglas will play the Rachmaninov Second Piano Concerto in early June and there is a rumour that Andrei Gavrilov will be in the second half of the 2000 season program. This week we had the fortune of hearing Vladimir Ovchinikov in two of the most difficult pieces for the piano - the Totentanz and Liszt Piano Concerto No.1.

Ovchinikov returns to our shores for the third time having already played in previous years at the Piano Festival and in Feb 1998 when he played Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No.1 (reviewed here) to a rousing reception. Once again the Russian did not disappoint, every feature of a world-class performer was once again displayed, from dynamic catapulting of hands across the keyboard to intricate filigree skimming across the higher registers. Every aspect of his playing was taken on with Lisztian precision.

The Totentanz is a difficult piece, one of the few Lisztian pieces that is very percussive in nature. While the piano goes about "banging" as it would seem, the piece depicts the triumph of Death, with variations based on the well-known medieval Dies Irae theme.

The chords are sardonic and dark, and the opening pounding ostinato depicts this. Ovchinikov, with his iron-clad fingers, was able to go above the orchestra despite its volume. At many parts of the piece, the SSO could have been a shade more quiet to allow the pianist a bit more expressive leeway.

This piece also confirms why his contemporaries called Liszt the "mephisto-Abbe" - different textures of the piano become evident, with characteristics of Paganinian difficulties thrown in for the piano. Ovchinnikov played with masterly confidence and there was never any sign of faltering in his technique; tonight we only saw the professionalism and expertise which he had always displayed in previous occasions.

While this piece may be dark in nature with the Dies Irae theme, there is a small section in the middle in which Liszt expresses as transcendence over death. It is here where Ovchinnikov brought out this ray of hope with his beautiful playing.

At the end the audience showed their keen appreciation with thunderous applause. It was hard to believe that he was going to play a full concerto after going through all sorts of finger gymnastics at the piano. Most pianists would just play this as a single piece for the whole concert.

The Piano Concerto No.1 opened in grandiloquent fashion only for it to be marred by an inconsiderate member of the audience who had the audacity to let her handphone ring on, and to run out of the auditorium to answer it. The concert hall management and security should know better and not allowed her back in - I sincerely hope more restrictions will be instituted. This could well be a world’s first for the hall and a welcome precedent for concertgoers around the world. (Would the concert hall management please take note of this for the upcoming piano festival).

That the concertois so often underrated is sad because it has some beautiful sections, displaying both virtuosity and introspectiveness. Liszt brings out the best out of the pianist where one is expected to display technique, like the emphasis on notes of a chordic nature pivoting on the thumbs of both hands - this was something Ovchinnikov demonstrated with style and finesse. This is extremely difficult and one can only imagine the hours of practice that went into perfecting this.

Ovchinikov possesses a gentle touch in the left hand, as seen in the quieter moments, which was further demonstrated by the use of the sustained pedal. This lingering sound penetrated the silence long after the key is struck, reverberating to fill the air. Ovchinnikov followed a strict tempo and only opened up when the solo woodwind accompaniment demanded this.

The gigantic recapitulation at the end was approached with huge ferocity, yet never at any moment was the soloist out of control. For the encore Ovchinnikov dedicated Liszt's La Campanella to his Singaporean friends in the audience.

It is a not a wonder now, after hearing him, why John Ogdon almost pipped Vladimir Ashkenazy in the 1962 Second Tchaikovsky finals because when played well, this concerto brings out the best out of a pianist, both visually for the audience and emotionally for the listener.

Isn't it an awfully awesome coincidence that Leon works in the IT industry, Johann also works in the IT industry and William also works in the IT industry. What is the world coming to?

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707: 3.5.2000 ©William Beh, Chia Han-Leon, Johann D'Souza.

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