In concert – Frank Dupree, Philharmonia Orchestra / Santtu-Matias Rouvali: Kapustin, Glinka, Borodin & Rimsky-Korsakov

Frank Dupree (piano, above), Philharmonia Orchestra / Santtu-Matias Rouvali (below)

Glinka Capriccio brillante (Spanish Overture no.1 ‘Jota Aragonese’) (1845)
Kapustin Piano Concerto no.5 Op.72 (1993)
Borodin Symphony no.2 in B minor (1869 – 1876)
Rimsky-Korsakov Capriccio Espagnol Op.34 (1887)

Royal Festival Hall, London
Thursday 7 March 2024 (7.30pm)

Reviewed by Ben Hogwood Pictures (c) Raphael Steckelbach (Frank Dupree), Sisi Burn (Santtu-Matias Rouvali)

After this orchestral spectacular, I can confidently say that the Royal Festival Hall is free of cobwebs!

This most appealing program from the Philharmonia Orchestra was a cosmopolitan collection of works with roots in Russia, in the symphonic tradition (Borodin), delivering postcards from Spain (Glinka and Rimsky-Korsakov) or bringing in music from even further across the Atlantic (Kapustin).

The work with the farthest reach took top billing, thanks to the advocacy and breathtaking pianism of Frank Dupree. Making his debut with the Philharmonia, the soloist seized the opportunity to share his love of the music of Nikolai Kapustin, a composer he has championed on record in the past three years.

To call Kapustin ‘eclectic’ would be an understatement, but the label fits his unusual gift for looking outwards from classical music to jazz, boogie-woogie, Latin and even rock. To his credit none of those stylistic references sound hackneyed, and although the single-movement Piano Concerto no.5 is written out on paper it has a fresh, improvisatory quality that Dupree and the Philharmonia fair lifted off the page.

There were fun and games in this performance, harnessing elements of Gershwin, Milhaud and Shostakovich’s jazz writing, but ultimately channelling a style all of Kapustin’s own. Dupree shared the many musical jokes with the audience, while the Philharmonia percussion section – drum kit, bongos, castanets, everything but the kitchen sink! – was on hot form, Santtu-Matias Rouvali conducting with relish. The slow music explored more tender asides, evoking Harlem nights or even poolside in a hotter climate, while the fast music found Dupree exhibiting deceptive virtuosity as he navigated riffs and syncopations aplenty.

Even this wasn’t quite the highpoint, for there followed a high-spirited encore, Dupree leaning into the piano to thrum the strings in an atmospheric introduction to rhythmic high jinks, the percussion section – including Rouvali – out front to joust playfully with the soloist. It brought the house down.

With such a crowd-pleasing concerto, it was to the Philharmonia and Rouvali’s enormous credit that the rest of the program did not suffer, thanks to sparkling performances of music by three of the ‘mighty handful’ from late 19th century Russia.

Glinka’s clever interpolation of Spanish themes into his own Romantic language was brilliantly conveyed, a colourful account where Rouvali’s tempo had just the right ebb and flow. It is easy to forget this music is as old as 1845, and while the influences of Berlioz and Mendelssohn were still relatively fresh there was plenty of swagger in the dancing rhythms, the percussion again enhancing the brassy swagger of the closing pages.

Rimsky-Korsakov’s Capriccio Espagnol was even more successful, a treasure chest of melodies opened with evident enthusiasm by Rouvali, whose rapid tempo changes did occasionally leave the string section needing to make up ground. Cadenzas for violin (orchestra leader Zsolt-Tihamér Visontay), flute (Samuel Coles), clarinet (Mark van de Wiel) and harp (Heidi Krutzen) were superbly executed, Rimsky’s mini ‘concerto for orchestra’ revealed in glorious technicolour.

Rimsky wrote the Capriccio while orchestrating his friend Borodin’s opera Prince Igor – and it was his own Symphony no.2 that was in theory the most ‘sober’ of the night’s four works. We reckoned without a powerful performance from Rouvali and his charges, however, making the most of a work bursting with melodic ideas that should be heard much more often in the concert hall. The first of these ideas sets the tone for the symphony, a stern utterance with strings digging in and brass solemnly intoning their thoughts. Once heard the melody sticks in the listener’s mind, dominating the first movement where symphonic arguments were tautly exchanged.

There was room for lightness, however, in the quickfire scherzo and jubilant finale. These movements were bisected by an emotive third movement of deeper Russian origin, its theme lovingly delivered by cellos but finding plangent brass (the wonderful horn section led by Ben Hulme) and superb woodwind solos to complement. Rouvali relished the chance to dust off this relative symphonic outcast as part of a thrilling, memorable concert. The smiles on the faces of the Royal Festival Hall concertgoers as they filed into the open air said it all.

You can find more information on further concerts at the Philharmonia website

Published post no.2,112 – Saturday 8 March 2024

On record – Eckart Runge plays Kapustin & Schnittke (Capriccio)

Eckart Runge (cello), Rundfunk-Sinfonieorchester Berlin / Frank Strobel

Kapustin
Cello Concerto no.1 Op.85 (1997)
Schnittke
Cello Concerto no.1 (1985/6)

Capriccio C5362 [69’52”]

Producer / Engineer  Wolfram Nehls Henri Thaon

Recorded 9-10 March 2018 (Kapustin), 30 September – 2 October 2019 at RBB Haus des Rundfunk, Berlin

Written by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

Eckart Runge continues his distinctive – not to say idiosyncratic – recorded odyssey with this pertinent coupling of Russian cello concertos, written a decade apart by composers who were near contemporaries while pursuing radically different paths in terms of career and aesthetic.

What’s the music like?

His First Cello Concerto sees Nikolai Kapustin intent on opening-out his jazz-inflected idiom as centred on the piano over the previous two decades. With its stealthy emergence towards a ‘big band’ summons, the initial Allegro forges a flexible accommodation between soloist and orchestra – the former given its head in brief yet decisive passages, with the two engaging in animated and essentially good-natured banter elsewhere. Kapustin’s take on jazz is beholden to no time or place, but the central Largo evokes that of America’s immediate post-war era in its rhythmic clarity that belies a subdued and often taciturn lyrism; at length accelerating into the final Allegro which, with its incisive interplay and tensile bravura, finds this composer at his most characteristic. How surprising that, given the worldwide interest in Kapustin during his final quarter-century, this piece should have gone unheard until just two years before his death. Runge is audibly intent on making up for that neglect, bringing an impetus and elan to the music as should go some way towards establishing its presence in the modern repertoire.

At almost twice its length, Alfred Schnittke’s First Cello Concerto is evidently the weightier proposition as is proven with this last in a sequence of imposing concertante works – having been preceded by those for violin (No. 4), viola and choir. The initial Moderato unfolds as a soliloquy alternately heightened and threatened by orchestra, its essential pathos continually reasserting itself against the forces of negation. From the ashes of this ultimate confrontation, a Largo emerges fitfully before it takes on an eloquence by no means devoid of anxiety; this latter quality to the fore in an ensuing Allegro as impulsive as it is concentrated. The first of several debilitating strokes suffered soon after starting work on this piece radically altered its concept – the final Largo building in a crescendo of intensity to the radiant apotheosis, before winding down to a serenity whose closure is more real for having been so hard-won. A tough work to make cohere over its lengthy spans of mainly slow music, yet Runge undoubtedly has its measure through his sustaining of these emotional peaks and troughs with such conviction.

Does it all work?

Yes, albeit in terms of those stylistic goals the composers set themselves. Runge currently has no competition for the Kapustin, where his fusion of incisiveness and suavity will be a tough act to follow. His take on the Schnittke is more durable than most of its predecessors, though dedicate Natalia Gutman finds greater intensity in her first recording (Regis/Alto), while the late Alexander Ivashkin teases greater subtlety from more inward passages (Chandos). Frank Strobel with the Berlin Radio Symphony Orchestra offer alert and idiomatic support in both instances.

Is it recommended?

Indeed, not least in its underlining the diversity of music as came out of Russia during those ‘transitional’ years either side of the USSR’s demise. Informative notes by Christian Heindl and Runge, who will hopefully record the second concertos of both composers for this label.

Listen & Buy

You can get more information on the disc at the Capriccio website, or purchase from Presto. Meanwhile for more information on the artists, Eckart Runge can be found here and Frank Strobel here