Philharmonic to the MAX

Thursday’s New York Philharmonic concert (2/23/24), led by Eun Sun Kim with orchestra in top form, opened with a bold rendition of Finlandia. The brass were just spicy enough—on edge without dipping into rawness—setting a strong tone for the first tableaux. Prayer-like chorales were haloed with gold later in the piece; a rousing ending clarifies the work’s place in the canon.

Emanuel Ax’s playing in The MAX Concerto was strong and agile—he’s able to draw a firm body from the piano without a jarring attack. Hillborg demands a variety of styles from the soloist in his second piano concerto—from cascading arpeggios in the opening to an extremely tight, robotic style—and Ax delivers. In one particularly effective section, the harp doubled piano on almost every note, blending exquisitely into a plucky bronze mega-instrument; it took several bars for me to realize it was more than just the soloist.

Hillborg is a master of orchestration and uses modern techniques as a color rather than using for their own sake. For example, one effective recurring idea was a big chord from which a string glissando melted into clustery quarter tones while the rest of the orchestra maintained the “true” pitch. The strings executed such passages with the milky warmth of a French hot chocolate. Overblown woodwind multiphonics added texture to otherwise conventional-sounding chords, sparking subtle dissonance rather than drawing attention to the unconventional sounds. Though the work’s climax was too short, quickly retreating into the quieter, spare music that makes up most of the piece, Hillborg’s colorful sound worlds create a rich amuse bouche of a concerto—intriguing and fun, whetting the curious palate for more.

Rachmaninoff’s Third Symphony opens with a haunting sound from clarinets, horn and an ethereally high cello (the latter two muted). It’s hard to pull this off with such great distance between players, but in a way the slight intonation issues added to its ghostly quality. 

Kim’s overwrought rubato sometimes made it difficult to place the beat, and certainly posed a challenge for bouncy triplet figures that accompany lush, romantic melodies. But this is a small critique given the silver screen sound she drew from the orchestra. I was pleased by how the strings fervently attacked the driving triplet figures, never settling too far back in the seat of tempo.

The triangle, as it tends to be in this hall, was much too hot in the first movement. I maintain the instrument should be seen and felt rather than heard. A kind, percussion-loving usher mentioned that he could always hear the triangle despite minor tinnitus. Unfortunately bright, metallic sounds rebound straight from the stage’s back wall and require more poise and control than they tend to receive in performance. Given my faith in the musicality of orchestra’s players and conductors, the hall’s acousticians should find a remedy for this painful sore. 

About two-thirds of the way through the symphony’s final movement, where Rachmaninoff’s obsession with the Dies Irae comes to a head and another conductor may have forced the orchestra to a sinister crawl in order to highlight the chant, Kim chose to plow ahead, connecting its style to the country dance’s folks punch immediately following. I enjoyed this interpretation for its continuity, whereas a dramatic emphasis on the chant might disrupt the movement’s flow. A short percussion feature, beginning with martial drum rolls and growing to short licks traded off between celeste, xylophone, and upper winds, left a huge smile on my face.

Kim’s conducting included unique and effective gestures that I’m not sure I’ve seen on the orchestral stage. At times, she cued with an abruptly closed hand, bringing thumb to other four fingers in a paradoxical yet universal “shut up” gesture. (I recall many a girl in high school who would use this motion when they believed an argument should end). Though unconventional—an open palm saying “go ahead,” or pointed “your turn” finger might be more common—it matched the music’s dancing style. In addition to crouching for subito pianissimos or swaying hips for a dance-like flow, she also tracked her left hand from side to side, palm flat at first then pointing a finger, wrist leading the way as if the hand was moving through sticky molasses. I associate this gesture with playing through a phrase, particularly for wind players in a concert band setting, but of course it works for orchestral winds all the same.

This program which feels standard (opener, concerto, symphony; a new piece paired with two repertory staples) may also reveal a stronger political message. Jean Sibelius composed Finlandia to accompany at a time of budding Finnish nationalism, in particular contrast to Tsarist Russia’s regional expansion and hegemony. The work itself was meant to accompany several tableaux of Finnish historical moments, and the embedded hymn is thought of by many as the unofficial national anthem of Finland.

Recently, Rachmaninoff’s legacy has created tension between the United States and Russia, who has already created problems in world relationships with its invasion of Ukraine. In an unsurprisingly common retrofitting of history, Russia has accused America—the composer’s adopted home after fleeing the Russian Revolution—of subverting Rachmaninoff’s Russian legacy. The program note’s editorial regarding disputes between Rachmaninoff estate and Russia’s desire to repatriate the composer’s Swiss villa, in addition to the historical context of Finlandia, provide a thoughtful prod to our understanding of nationalism, legacy, and music’s interpretative role.

At this performance, Philharmonic strings demonstrated an fresh vivacity and presence, especially in the first and third movements’ fiery bowings. Solo outings from two new members of the wind section, Julian Gonzalez on bassoon and Barrett Ham on bass clarinet, delighted. Rachmaninov loves to tease a brief exposed bass clarinet, casting a deep violet hue that I wish Ham exploited even further (though he will certainly have such an opportunity in the future). These developments and an overall settling into the hall’s acoustics—metallic percussion aside!—leave much to look forward to in the upcoming Dudamel season.