Kirill Petrenko’s Inaugural Concert in Berlin

As I observed yesterday, this may be my final day of free access to the Digital Concert Hall archive of performances by the Berlin Philharmonic. Since this is Kirill Petrenko’s first season as the ensemble’s Chief Conductor, I decided that it would be appropriate to review his inaugural concert in that capacity. This took place on August 23, 2019; and the “main attraction” was a performance of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Opus 125 (ninth) symphony in D minor, often known as the “Choral” symphony, since the final movement is structured around a setting of Friedrich Schiller’s “Ode to Joy,” whose scoring includes soprano, alto, tenor, and baritone soloists, as well as a full four-part choir (with a brief division of the tenor section into two parts).

There is no way that I can give an accurate account of how many times Opus 125 has been performed by the Berlin Philharmonic, let alone the number of conductors that have led those performances. On the other hand, it would not surprise me if this was the first performance in which Beethoven’s symphony was preceded by music by Alban Berg, which happened to provide another showcase for the soprano soloist. This composition was originally given the title “Symphonische Stücke aus der Oper ‘Lulu’” (symphonic pieces from the opera Lulu) when it was first published in 1935; but these days it tends to be known more familiarly as the “Lulu Suite.”

Berg began work on Lulu in 1929. In the spring of 1934, while he was still working on the score, Berg learned that the predominance of Nazi ideology would make any performance of the opera impossible. He set aside the score and focused his effort on the concert suite, which was given its first performance in November of that year. Ultimately, only the first two of the three acts were completed, along with portions of the third (final) act. A performing version of that last act in its entirety was only prepared by Friedrich Cerha after the death of Berg’s widow Helene in 1976; and the resulting “complete version” was performed at the Palais Garnier in Paris, conducted by Pierre Boulez on February 24, 1979.

The suite consists of five movements, drawing upon different material from the complete opera as follows:

1. Excerpts from the two scenes of the second act
2. The music for the film projected between the two scenes of the second act
3. The “Lied der Lulu,” which is sung near the end of the first scene of the second act
4. The theme with variations that begins the second scene of the third act
5. The final episode of the third act, including the death of Lulu and the dying words of the Countess Martha Geschwitz

The “Lied der Lulu” is sung as it is in the opera, requiring a high soprano voice. Many performances of the suite also have the vocalist sing Geschwitz’ part in the final movement; but this was not the case at Petrenko’s inaugural performance.

Marlis Petersen on the cover of the Metropolitan Opera video recording of Lulu (from the Amazon.com Web page)

The vocalists for the Beethoven symphony were soprano Marlis Petersen, mezzo Elisabeth Kulman, tenor Benjamin Bruns, and bass Kwangchul Youn. Petersen’s experience with singing the role of Lulu includes her performing in the production that William Kentridge created for the Metropolitan Opera (documented on video); and she was the vocalist in the opening performance of Berg’s suite. Petrenko was clearly aware of how much detail Berg had packed into each movement of the suite, and he could not have done a better job of communicating that awareness to his audience. Even without the context of the libretto, the attentive listener can appreciate the intricacy with which Berg can interleave multiple themes, usually distinguishing them through highly original instrumentation. (This is one of those rare cases when the saxophone does not sound like it has escaped from a jazz band.)

That same attentive similarity to the interleaving of resources paid off just as well in Petrenko’s Beethoven interpretation. It is reasonable to assume that many in the audience could claim to know every note in the score and appreciate the subtle roles that many of them play. Petrenko knew how to situate each note in its proper place and give it its proper due. The result could not have contrasted more sharply against his approach to Berg, but I suspect that was part of the point of why he had conceived the entire program as he did. If the prevailing rhetoric of Berg’s suite was dark, it never had a chance to dim the lights on Opus 125, particularly in the rousing enthusiasm with which the final movement was delivered.