REVIEW: Munich Philharmonic, the Russian School, and Bruckner
Above: Behzod Abduraimov, Valery Gergiev and the Munich Philharmonic. Photo by Chris Lee.
October 26, 2019
By Brian Taylor
Behzod Abduraimov is not as Instagram-famous as some of his concert pianist peers. He has an air of humility, even shyness, as he emerges from backstage and adjusts the piano bench. Perhaps he’s not an individualistic Yuja Wang or a spontaneous Daniil Trifonov. Nonetheless, this Uzbek pianist is a consummate exponent of the fabled “Russian School” of piano playing (think Emil Gilels and Sviatoslav Richter). He certainly seemed to be channeling that tradition — rock solid technique and honed seriousness — in Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1 at Carnegie Hall with the Munich Philharmonic, under the baton of Valery Gergiev.
Gergiev, Munich’s Music Director and Conductor through 2025, paired Tchaikovsky’s weighty concerto with a piece even more bereft of humor: Bruckner’s Symphony No. 7 in E Major. The resulting evening was alternately laborious and impressive.
Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto is the definition of a warhorse. Its 1875 premiere was a hit with audiences, while critics turned up their noses. Since, it has remained a standard vehicle for showcasing piano virtuosity. In 1958, Van Cliburn made history as an American winning the First International Tchaikovsky Competition with the concerto. Later, our soloist Abduraimov’s teacher, Stanislav Ioudenitch, in turn won the Van Cliburn Competition with the piece.
Tchaikovsky’s onerous solo part requires the grandest pianistic gestures: torrents of octaves, fountains of arpeggios. Sustained full strength. Abduraimov assails its challenges with the skill of an Olympic athlete. The lighter second movement finds him playing more tenderly, if not terribly imaginatively. He is clearly in his comfort zone in the diabolical Allegro con Fuoco third movement, unrelenting in the face of a bombardment of rhythmic darts. If Gergiev’s orchestra did not always exhibit crackerjack ensemble, they supplied moments of color and brawn, and occasionally, remarkable agility. The string section’s cushy sound was ingratiating to the solo piano.
More on the Munich Philharmonic’s sound. It’s a case study in the difference between American and European orchestras. They have a glaringly bright timbre, yet their intonation is open, resonant, and pure. The strings — arranged with the celli to the immediate left of the first violins — play with vigor and warmth. The brass section, possibly the heart of this ensemble, is full-throated and fearless. But the woodwind choir feels exotic on these shores: they have an earthy, barnyard quality. The oboe sound could even be described as honky.
It is a Philharmonic with character and muscle that Gergiev wields like Thor’s hammer. Bruckner’s Seventh provided them something hefty to chew on. Macerate and regurgitate they did, the Maestro commanding a literal, rigid reading of Bruckner’s hefty, epic score.
Photo by Chris Lee
It seems to me that Bruckner — relishing repeating patterns in Philip Glass-like walls of sound— invented minimalism as we know it today.
The Adagio second movement laments the death of Wagner (and was later played on German radio prior to the announcement of Hitler’s death). The scherzo foresees the macabre that would soon engulf Europe. Gergiev’s tempi tended to lean forward, yet the piece’s climaxes did not always feel well-earned. Vertical structures — voicing, balance, intonation — were vibrant; it was in these extended moments that Bruckner’s sumptuous scoring hypnotized.
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