Friday morning's rehearsal proved wonderful, fully rewarding my last-minute decision not to go to work for the day.  Shui Lan accompanied Yo-Yo Ma very confidently, and sympathetically, in very English-sounding textures.  The rehearsal took place like two long breaths - the first two movements were poised, yet dramatic, where the SSO and Yo-Yo Ma played like angels and demons, alternately soothing, then heating up, with magical pianissimi building up to blazing fortissimi.  Yo-Yo Ma's version of the Elgar, while exhibiting the intensity of the performances of the greatest luminaries, was entirely his own.  My fellow-reviewer Leon said that he thought it was a reading which does not overindulge in Romanticism (see above); let me qualify that.  This was Romantic, through and through, in the way that is not cloying, however.  One thing that struck me most of all was that this was living music-making, and very vital.  In the third movement I was moved to hot tears with Yo-Yo Ma's sensitive phrasing. The last movement was dramatic, with his overt interaction with the orchestra working its magic. 

During the rehearsal the overall mould of the first and second movements seemed to be Jacqueline du Pré's recording with Barbirolli, but the Friday performance itself revealed touches which were very un-Jackie-esque, and very Yo-Yo Ma.  For example the opening bars alone with those majestic chords were taken in a manner which I can only compare with a "period" baroque style of handling chords - two-by-two.  His handling of the opening "recitativ" was more pronounced and exagerrated than during the rehearsal, a feature which imbued the whole of the actual performance.  Yo-Yo Ma uses his bow as a fencer uses his sword, and this was a characteristic which informed his entire performance - an attitude which was more of defiance rather than resignation, even though I am still reluctant to treat the concerto as one of unbridled optimism.  Mr Ma's individual touches are impressive - for example his interesting detaché bowing in places, as well as his liberal application of rubato without losing sight of the line of the piece.  He plays the third movement without much exaggeration, though, a rather consistent feature over the three performances. 

To be very critical, I found he had a more (again) defiant view of the second movement rather than the one of humour which I had always associated it with, always looking aristocratically away from the finger-board while doing his spiccato (here not as well-done as du Pré, but who has done it so well so far?).  His fourth movement was the most consistently interpreted of all the movements, and it had a thrust, and its fair share of Ma-isms - interesting detaché playing here again in places, with a generally unflailing flying spiccato, faltering only a little in the last performance. 

Speaking of the performances altogether, and in retrospect, I found the rehearsal the most natural and unaffected.  The Friday performance suffered from a consistent exaggeration in terms of tempi and dynamics which didn't seem so fantastic having seen perfection the same morning.  The Saturday performance was interpretationally up to the standard of the rehearsal, but due to his heavy schedule and tiredness, suffered from spots of not-as-secure intonation.

Yehudi Menuhin, the last musician with a link to Elgar himself passed away on Friday.  Having known this the night before I can only imagine the thoughts running through the Yo-Yo Ma's mind.  The light atmosphere of jubilation which received his Elgar the first night was replaced with one of utter solemnity as the great cellist spoke to the audience, "Ladies and gentlemen, yesterday one of the great musicians of our time, Yehudi Menuhin, passed away.  I would like to play as an encore, the Sarabande from the Sixth Suite."