Returning to the Digital Concert Hall

Leif Ove Andsnes and Herbert Blomstedt after their Mozart performance (from the Digital Concert Hall Web page for this program)

I filed my first article on Examiner.com on March 7, 2009. Not long thereafter, I was informed that the site was encouraging writers to provide articles in response of the hard economic circumstances that ensued in the wake of the financial crisis of 2007–08. My response was to write an article entitled “Concerts on a tight budget in cyberspace.”

Once again, we are in a situation in which cyberspace is emerging as almost a “vital” resource. From a personal point of view, it provides me to return to my preferred “beat” to write about listening experiences in concert, rather than through recordings. So it was that I discovered that I could return to the Digital Concert Hall for free access to its library of film and video documents of concerts by the Berlin Philharmonic. Back in 2009 I referred to this as “the best virtual experience of a symphony orchestra concert.”

I am not sure how many visits I shall make to this site during the current difficult times, but I chose to begin with familiar faces and composers. I spent this afternoon viewing a performance that took place this past January 18 with Herbert Blomstedt as guest conductor. His soloist was pianist Leif Ove Andsnes, playing in the concerto selection, K. 482 in E-flat major by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. The second half of the program was devoted entirely to Anton Bruckner’s fourth (“Romantic”) symphony, also in E-flat major, using the score of the radical revisions he made to the original 1874 version, which he completed in 1880. This was the sort of programming that would not have surprised me on one of Blomstedt’s visits to the San Francisco Symphony; and, if truth be told, Blomstedt was one of the first (if not the first) conductors to get me to start listening seriously to Bruckner. (For that matter, his approaches to Mozart were also just as consistently engaging.)

Taken as a whole, this was a program of contrasts. While Andsnes’ demeanor tends to be intensely serious, he clearly appreciated the playfulness that Mozart himself probably brought to his own performance of K. 482; and Andsnes responded equally personal approaches to that playfulness. That rhetorical stance was consistently supported by Blomstedt from beginning to end. The partnership between soloist and conductor could not have been better, particularly with Andsnes choosing cadenza material (possibly his own) that did not follow the usual “trill signal” indicating that he was ready to rejoin the orchestra.

Nevertheless, for all the technical and rhetorical virtues of this performance, I have to say that the camera work was a far cry from what it had been in 2009. While attention to Andsnes’ facial expressions and body language often cued the rhetoric he had prepared to convey, video direction was not as kind to either the ensemble or the conductor. In the latter case one simply did not see enough of Blomstedt. More problematic was a disturbing tendency to direct the camera at “secondary” instruments, as if the video director was never quite sure which instruments were carrying the thematic material. Thus, while the account of the role of the keyboard could not have been better, the relationship between soloist and ensemble was never effectively conveyed through the visual channel.

As might be guessed, the video of Andsnes’ encore was equally satisfying. He chose to play the second of the Opus 54 (fifth) book of Edvard Grieg’s Lyric Pieces. This was the piece entitled “Gangar” (Norwegian march). Andsnes clearly knew how to play this piece without overplaying it, particularly in his ability to take repeats that did not sound repetitious. In many respects the piece was as playful as the Mozart concerto; but the context of the play was entirely different, making for an encore that suited the program, rather than simply one more opportunity for the pianist to show off his skills.

Fortunately, watching Blomstedt conduct Bruckner was much more of an asset. Bruckner is often accused of being too repetitious. However, Blomstedt’s body language consistently made it clear that every instant of the score was a significant one. Mind you, the entire symphony is a vast landscape of different levels of significance; but Blomstedt always conveyed a sense of rhetorical progression linking what-is-happening-now to what-comes-next. In other words Blomstedt knew how to present the overall landscape of signification within which the rhetorical delivery was one of discovery rather than reiteration.

Nevertheless, I am afraid that, when the camera was not directed at Blomstedt, it was frequently as disoriented as it had been in the Mozart performance. I was reminded that when Jordan Whitelaw directed his telecasts of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, there was a clear sense that he was following his own copy of the score with the same attention as the conductor. (That said, it appeared that, while there was a music stand in front of him, Blomstedt never consulted a score during his Bruckner performance.) Back in 2009 the video work for the Digital Concert Hall lived up to Whitelaw’s high standards. Sadly, that no longer seems to be the case; but the performance of the music itself continues to be absorbing.