Last night in Herbst Theatre the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra (PBO) presented the San Francisco performance of its Viennese Pivot program. Music Director Nicholas McGegan prepared a program that demonstrated the changes in music-making practices that unfolded during the transition from the end of the eighteenth century into the beginning of the nineteenth. The “pivot point” of the program was Ludwig van Beethoven’s Opus 61 violin concerto in D major, completed and first performed in 1806. The “early side” of the pivot was represented by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s overture for his K. 492 opera The Marriage of Figaro, while Franz Schubert embodied the “late side” with a performance of his so-called “Little C major” symphony, D. 589, composed between October of 1817 and February of 1818. Taken as a whole, the program followed the usual overture-concerto-symphony format.
Violinist Alana Youssefian (from the Philharmonia Baroque 2018–2019 season summary)
The concerto soloist was Alana Youssefian, who was called upon to substitute for violinist Rachel Barton Pine, currently recovering from an unscheduled medical procedure on her knee. Graduating from the Historical Performance Program at the Juilliard School in the spring of 2018, Youssefian wasted little time in becoming a bicoastal player in the repertoire of historically informed performances. She made her PBO debut this past November performing concertos by Antonio Vivaldi with PBO violinist Elizabeth Blumenstock. Youssefian subsequently became a member of Voices of Music, giving her an opportunity to play more Vivaldi this past December and venture into “early world music” last month. Needless to say, the gulf between Vivaldi and Beethoven is a wide one; but, after having received word of Pine’s cancellation, McGegan called upon Youssefian to leap that gulf.
This was clearly a major undertaking for her. It is hard to imagine her having gone through Juilliard, regardless of specialization, without having confronted the Beethoven concerto. Nevertheless, she played from her printed part, rather than from memory. Even if she had internalized the score earlier in her studies, it would be understandable that, with her change in repertoire, Opus 61 would no longer be a part of active memory.
The more important issue was how she would match not only her interpretation but also the sonorities of her instrument with the PBO “period” sounds, particularly those involving the winds and brass. Her very opening measures suggested that, where intonation was concerned, she needed a bit of time to find her footing. However, once that footing was established, she delivered an account of the solo violin part that was as expressive as it was technically capable. Her cadenza selections were unique and may well have been products of her own invention, giving a “period” account that would not fall back on evoking the spirits of the likes of Fritz Kreisler and others sailing under the late nineteenth-century flag. As an attentive partner, McGegan was with her every step of the way, providing what could easily be taken as a credible account of a familiar concerto as it was heard by an audience two centuries earlier.
Youssefian may have been the “star soloist;” but, as Bruce Lamott observed in his pre-concert talk, the “action” over the course of the evening took place among the wind and brass players. The sonorous qualities of these period instruments threw no end of new lights on both the Mozart and Beethoven selections, serving up engagingly fresh listening experiences. The Schubert selection was less familiar but provided a delightfully refreshing account of “life after Beethoven.”
Sadly, Schubert himself never heard this symphony (or, for that matter, any of his symphonies) in performance. D. 589 was the first of his symphonies to be given public performance; and that performance was a memorial occasion, taking place on December 14, 1828 in the month after Schubert’s death. Ironically, this is a decidedly upbeat composition, abounding with energetic rhythms and particularly dazzling colors coming from the wind instruments of the time. One could, of course, imagine any number of credible accounts of this composition that one might encounter in Davies Symphony Hall. Nevertheless, for all the attention that Schubert receives for his work in art song, chamber music, and solo piano music, D. 589 makes it clear that his understanding of instrumental sonorities was informed and imaginative. It therefore seems “altogether fitting and proper” (as Abraham Lincoln put it) that we, as listeners, should experience the sonorities that Schubert imagined rather than those arising from more contemporary interpretations of his scores.
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