New Year’s Eve concert with Simon Rattle and Daniil Trifonov
New Year’s Eve Concert
Sir Simon Rattle
Overture to Colas Breugnon op. 90 (00:05:28)
Piano Concerto No. 3 in D minor op. 30 (00:50:34)
Daniil Trifonov Piano
Orchestral Pieces from Façade arranged in form of a suite by Sir Simon Rattle (00:11:26)
Slavonic Dances (Selection) op. 72 (00:11:12)
Comedians' Galop from The Comedians (00:02:47)
Hungarian Dance No. 1 in G minor (00:07:20)
Sir Simon Rattle on the New Year’s Concert 2016 (00:02:43)
Daniil Trifonov in conversation with Sarah Willis (00:13:00)
Before the champagne corks pop to celebrate the turn of the year 2016/2017, you can experience first-class virtuosic piano playing when Daniil Trifonov steps up to the podium at the New Year’s Eve concert of the Berliner Philharmoniker. The concert opens with a sparkling comedy overture by the Soviet composer Dmitri Kabalevsky. Since winning the Moscow Tchaikovsky Competition in 2011, the 25-year old musician Trifonov, born like his pianist colleague Igor Levit, four years older, in Nizhny Novgorod (formerly Gorky), has been rated not only one of the technically most formidable but also one of the musically most interesting pianists of the younger generation. After a CD release of his debut in New York’s Carnegie Hall, acclaimed by both critics and the audience, in 2015 Trifonov recorded his interpretations of some of the most challenging works of variations by Sergei Rachmaninov, together with an homage he himself composed to the composer and virtuoso he so admires – and the critics were singing from the treetops (“Hats off to this Rachmaninov!”), sighing (“Do stay a while, moment in sound, you are so beautiful!”) and gushing (“A highly cultivated virtuoso with limitless technical possibilities”).
At his debut with the Berlin Philharmonic, Trifonov will also play a composition by Rachmaninov: the Third Piano Concerto, which many interpreters of the work consider the most difficult piano concerto of all times. The composition is anything but stingy with lyrical passages that give at least the audience time to come up for air before marvelling at the next round of pianistic brilliance. The second part of the New Year’s Eve programme ends with some of the most dashing Slavonic Dances by Antonín Dvořák. Prior to that you can hear excerpts from William Walton’s Façade, which premiered in 1923 – a literary and musical hybrid whose impertinently defiant subtle wit, despite all nonsense, can hardly be better described than with the words “very British”. That the work, which was designated by its authors (the texts are by Edith Sitwell) as “entertainment”, could not be performed by anyone more ingeniously than by Simon Rattle, is obvious. Since “to entertain” means both to invite and to amuse, in just these ways Sir Simon and the Berlin Philharmonic are looking forward to welcoming you to their New Year’s Eve concert.
Elephantine Concertos and Other Infestations
Rachmaninov, Kabalevsky and Walton: Always good for surprises
Sergei Rachmaninov: Piano Concerto No. 3 in D minor, op. 30
He was described as reserved and modest. His long-time friend Fyodor Chaliapin even suggested that he was embarrassed by fame. Not at all modest, on the other hand, were the grand houses he occupied in Russia, Switzerland and, finally, California. He was a cordial host and occasionally, so as not to attract attention, would take a sip from his glass of wine, something he didn’t especially care for. To his friends he was remarkably generous, and they expressed their gratitude in paeans to his character. Regrettably, this life style cost money, a great deal of money, and Rachmaninov gained a reputation early on of being extravagant and mainly interested in large fees.
The Third Piano Concerto, written in summer 1909 for a US tour, has never entirely escaped its reputation as more of a mercantile than an artistic masterwork. Rachmaninov himself called it a piece “for elephants”, by which he meant that mastering it demanded enormous physical exertion. A field day for detractors of its late-Romantic, decidedly anti-modern style, this 45-minute monster – which was much admired on the composer’s gigantic tour beginning in autumn 1909, bringing him comparably huge fees – could indeed be regarded as the product of a capitalist entrepreneur.
Ultimate virtuosity and an aura of arch-Romantic nostalgia – already in the 19th century that was not a contradiction. Rachmaninov pushes these two seemingly opposing tendencies to the extreme while ingeniously reconciling them. The main theme, entering in the third bar in parallel octaves, doesn’t begin to hint at the horrendous technical difficulties to follow, which prompted Rachmaninov to undertake various cuts and offer alternative cadenzas. That applies to the second movement as well, an elegiac, at times effusively impassioned intermezzo having the character of variations. A brief scherzo cadenza leads to an exceptionally bravura finale. Culminating in radiant D major, the work conceals the most sophisticated artistic devices beneath its elegant, always accessible façade.
Dmitri Kabalevsky:Overture to the opera Colas Breugnon
During World War I and the early phase of the Russian Revolution, Rachmaninov gave benefit concerts for wounded soldiers. Anxious about appearing a conspicuous bourgeois, he retreated with his family to their supposedly unscathed country estate, Ivanovka, but it was already being subjected to atrocities and vandalism. The musician’s house was not spared by the mob, who threw his piano down into the garden while peasants slaughtered his daughter’s favourite dog. The terrified Rachmaninovs fled to Moscow. Then a concert offer from Stockholm enabled them to escape the chaos.
Obviously, the number of artists who stayed because they couldn’t or wouldn’t leave was far greater. Hundreds of biographies describe desperate efforts to survive in the most depressing circumstances imaginable. Alongside the tragic figures there also existed a large group of successful composers who almost never came into conflict with the party, held academic positions and created work after work more or less free from worry. Nikolay Myaskovsky and Reinhold Glière were the two best-known representatives of this group. The third member was Dmitri Kabalevsky, born in St. Petersburg and educated in Moscow. The path of his long career was paved with awards, titles and other honours. Kabalevsky hewed closely to the doctrine of socialist realism, yet an immense talent saved his music from sterility if not always from lapsing into flashy Soviet kitsch.
Kabalevsky’s breakthrough came in 1938 with his opera Colas Breugnon; its overture is still his most frequently performed composition. A jaunty theme is tossed back and forth between the woodwind, strings and percussion. In the middle section, an initially lyrical idea is elevated to majestic heights. The opera is based on Romain Rolland’s novel of the same name; its hero is a wood-carver in 17th-century Burgundy. Striving for authenticity, Kabalevsky imitated French folk music of the period but, in the end, had to accept that his Breugnon was perceived as “the union of the artist and the people”.
William Walton: Façade
William Walton’s position in music history could be likened to that of a British Kabalevsky. If the two-years-younger Russian was never a viable rival to Shostakovich or Prokofiev, the Englishman always had Elgar, Vaughan Williams and Britten breathing down his neck. He also enjoyed an early breakthrough, but in his case, the huge success of Façade hindered more than it helped. It catapulted him into the first rank of British composers and became, though wholly atypical of his style, the yardstick by which everything else was measured. The son of a choirmaster in the industrial town of Oldham, near Manchester, Walton sang as a choirboy in his father’s church choir but did not seem to be inclined towards music. His lovely voice attracted attention, and aged ten he won a choral scholarship to Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford, where six years later he became one of the university’s youngest undergraduates. There he spent his time studying musical scores while neglecting the subjects required for graduation. Romantic and emotional, nearly always brought to tears by Puccini arias, Walton was also extremely shy, so that even his father’s career as a provincial musician wasn’t an obvious fit. Then in 1918, while at Oxford, he became friends and lived with Sacheverell, Osbert and Edith Sitwell, who were not shy at all.
The Sitwell siblings had high literary ambitions. For a while their circle was seen as a rival to the Bloomsbury Group, whose members included Virginia Woolf, E.M. Forster and John Maynard Keynes, but many regarded them as spoiled upper-class attention-seekers. The two brothers in particular delighted in defying social conventions, while the more decorous Edith was conspicuous not only for her poems but also for her attire – brocade and velvet costumes and a gold turban.
Now the young Walton found himself in the middle of this illustrious circle, recognizable all his life from his choirboy haircut. Sacheverell declared him a genius after hearing a piano quartet by the 16-year-old composer, and Edith took him under her wing. An artistic collaboration soon followed. Walton set her cycle of poems Façade, which played with speech rhythms and onomatopoeic word creations, prompting some contemporaries to consider this experiment pure nonsense. The music seemed to correspond to that view: most of the pieces indulge in difficult arabesques, causing one instrumentalist to ask him following the first private performance in 1922: “Excuse me, Mr. Walton, has a clarinet player ever done you an injury?”
The first public performance in 1923 caused an uproar, though without the epoch-making consequences that Schoenberg or Stravinsky had triggered with similar premieres. But for the English, it was shocking enough. Walton, the shy choirboy with the Lancashire accent became an enfant terrible in London overnight. He could hardly grasp what happened. In order not to acquire the reputation of a Dadaist, he soon augmented this first version with some less jarring numbers. And he continued to tinker with his Façade, even after 1948 when he settled for the rest of life on Ischia. And so, although the six movements compiled for these concerts as a suite by Sir Simon Rattle still betray the raucous spirit of the Roaring Twenties, they are also well-mannered enough not to seem out of place in a New Year’s Eve concert alongside Slavonic Dances by Antonín Dvořák.
Daniil Trifonov was born in Nizhny Novgorod in 1991. His parents were both professional musicians. At the age of five, he received his first piano lessons, and he made his first appearance with an orchestra when he was only eight. Later, he studied at the Gnessin School of Music in Moscow under Tatiana Zelikman. In 2009, Trifonov, whose role models include Martha Argerich, Grigory Sokolov and Radu Lupu, continued his studies under Sergei Babayan at the Cleveland Institute of Music where he also attended composition classes. Since winning the Rubinstein Competition in Tel Aviv and the Tchaikovsky Competition in Moscow in 2011 when he was only 20 years of age, Trifonov has been in demand as a concert soloist and for solo recitals throughout the world. He has performed with many leading orchestras and conductors at prestigious concert halls and festivals. His performance of Prokofiev’s Piano Concertos Nos. 1 and 3 with the London Symphony Orchestra and Valery Gergiev was one of the highlights of the BBC Proms in 2015. Trifonov appeared as a guest artist for the first time in the Berliner Philharmoniker Foundation’s piano series in early October, performing works by Schumann, Shostakovich and Stravinsky; his debut with the orchestra follows with these concerts.
© 2016 EuroArts Music International
Daniil Trifonov: the new album