Ólafsson’s spellbinding Brahms highlights Honeck’s Philharmonic program
This week’s New York Philharmonic program is built on classics—Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7 and Brahms’ Piano Concerto No. 1—that promise a solid evening of expected pleasures. But the concert also features two leading classical musicians, conductor Manfred Honeck and pianist Vikingur Ólafsson playing the concerto (which came after intermission), who on paper promised something out of the ordinary. While not everything was at that level, the heights were indeed spectacular.
The size and scope of the Brahms concerto makes it suitable for the finale of a concert, and that meant the unexpected pleasure of hearing Beethoven’s shining A major chord open the entire evening. Honeck is a reliably expert leader in the great 19th-century German symphonic repertoire. The performance was full of the kind of details that show understanding and mastery, but also had an awkward and unconvincing overall shape.
The outer movements were as fine as one will hear, propelled by superb playing from the Philharmonic. There were marvelous and meaningful moments, like the quick string crescendos running through the open chords. Honeck’s tempo changes were excellent, and the dynamics were expressive—there was great spirit in the playing. This was fast music, and it was thrilling.
The incredible Allegretto wasn’t on the same level. The opening phrase was so quiet it was close to subliminal, and this was impressive and drew in the listener. The tempo was on the slow side of the marking, and unfortunately there were times when the pace felt sluggish, and the playing tipped over into mannerism. Balances were beautiful, but the composing speaks for itself through the way the lines come together with such simple power that layering it with pathos, as Honeck did, limits its effect.
That was also an issue in the Presto. The fast dance music was as fine as the first movement, but things bogged down again in the Trio sections. This didn’t ruin the performance but did literally upset it, unbalancing the movement and also the symphony as a whole. The slow music felt misshapen compared to the rest. A fantastic finale, played with happy urgency and scintillating technique, was exciting but didn’t make for a complete success.
The orchestra’s playing was just as fine in the concerto, and Ólafsson was brilliant, commanding in every way. His playing has great beauty to it, a singing and ringing tone and a sense of careful thought and clear purpose that come through. Knowing the precision and delicacy of his baroque, classical, and modern era playing, one was intrigued to hear how he would sound with Brahms’ thicker textures, sonic power, and emotional density.
He sounded tremendous. He sounded like Ólafsson, and he sounded like Brahms. He didn’t approach the music any differently, playing with the same perfectly balanced touch and tone, keeping a texture that was substantial but not as thick as one hears in this music. One realized that balance is what makes the pianist so exceptional, everything he plays sounds like it has both his voice and the composer’s, in equal parts and perfect sympathy.
This was spellbinding and completely immersive. Details weren’t so much a matter of dynamics and tempos—though those were ideal—as that every single note sounded marvelous, suspended in time, and part of a seamless flow. Ólafsson had a seemingly relaxed aspect while being absolutely alert, and played from deep inside the music while keeping his typical lightness—which in his case is both a color and the sensation that he defies gravity, reducing weight, while honoring the mass of the music. This was a magical performance.
He came out for two encores, both from Rameau. The second was a fleet, impetuous “Le Rappel des oiseaux,” which had an interior quality, like something out of his practice regimen.
First was “The Arts and the Hours,” the pianist’s arrangement of music from Rameau’s unfinished opera, Les Boréades. This is slow, exceedingly graceful and dignified music, rich with feeling. It takes great technique to play the Brahms concerto, and to cleanly play fast music. It takes considerably more technique and intrinsic artistic thinking to play music like this, that is spare and simple and slow, and play it at an unfaltering pace without accumulating stress or mannerisms. Ólafsson was steady and clear as rain, and given enough time rain can fell mountains.
This program repeats 7:30 p.m. Saturday and Tuesday, October 8 nyphil.org
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