A Heroic Night at Carnegie Hall

The program achieved this success despite beginning with Seven Studies on Themes of Paul Klee by contemporary American composer Gunther Schuller. Schuller is one of the better composers in the recent repertoire, but that is merely a depressing reminder of how barren the last 70 years of orchestral music have been. Schuller’s short pieces were occasionally humorous and succeeded in provoking a genuine response from the audience above and beyond a simple desire not to be there. (Any performance of Detlev Glanert, by comparison, is better spent at the bar.) There was even a certain resonance with the Klee paintings on which Schuller's Studies were based. But, were it not for the need, understandably felt by music directors and programmers, to have something to represent the second half the 20th century, these works would not be performed at all. Compared to the Mozart and Beethoven which followed, it sounded like a zoo of instruments happened-upon in the wild, untrained and untamed, albeit pregnant with possibilities.

Emanuel Ax's Steinway was then rolled to center-stage for Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 22 in E-flat Major, K. 482. Mozart wrote the concerto in 1785 while he was working on The Marriage of Figaro, and it combines a pacific serenity in the first and third movements with an unusual pathos in the second. This second movement was such a success that it was encored on its inaugural performance—"a rather unusual occurrence!" for a slow movement, as Mozart's father observed. This was also the first piano concerto in which Mozart used clarinets, and the arpeggiated passage in the second movement, answered by the soloist, is one of music's sublime moments.

Ax's delicate and almost feminine touch served Mozart well; his interplay with Andris Nelsons was exceptional, personal, and a delight to behold. Following Ax's sensitive handling of a simple deceptive cadence in the first movement, his artful cadenza not only fit perfectly, but made a subtle and playful reference to the opening theme of Beethoven's Eroica Symphony, which was next on the program. Following warm lashings of applause, Mr. Ax retired for the evening and the audience went to intermission feeling cleansed as fine crystal.

The performance of Beethoven's Third Symphony was the defining moment of the evening and perhaps New York's entire season. It was better—much better—than flawless: It was heroic. This grand composition is a milestone in music, and was originally dedicated to Napoleon. But, when Beethoven heard that Napoleon had declared himself emperor, he tore up the original dedication page in a rage of disillusionment and retitled it Eroica. The symphony is twice as long as any Mozart-era predecessor, and is packed to unbelievable density with restless imagination. Beethoven famously added a third horn to the ensemble—most evident in the great hunting-call passages of the scherzo. He also uses a horn to preempt by one measure the recapitulation of the main theme in the first movement. This gesture was so unexpected that, during the first rehearsal of the work, Beethoven's secretary Ferdinand Ries remembers shouting "That damned hornist! Can't he count?" and adds—" Beethoven did not forgive me for a long time.

I have never heard a finer live performance of Beethoven. There is no part of the orchestra that should be praised especially: they played together in balanced ensemble, an almost impossible ideal. Andris Nelsons' conducting was a little histrionic, but not excessively so—he just made it absolutely clear what the orchestra ought to be doing, and they did it. His movements on the rostrum were so expressive that he instructed the audience as well; he made the music legible. Nelsons' dancing about was not entirely graceful, but overflowed with energy and understanding. He would often transfer the baton to his left hand in his excitement, so he could put extra force into a gesture with his right. We can fault him only for appearing in a jacket that looked like a black pajama-top, but chalk this up to the unfortunate sartorial legacy of von Karajan.