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Antiques
Roadshow
Classics
as old friends
Thursday,
March 3, 2005
By
Paul M. Somers
New Jersey Symphony Orchestra, Joseph Silverstein (conductor and violinist). Beethoven: Overture to Goethe's Egmont, op. 84; and Violin Concerto in D major, op. 61; Mendelssohn: Symphony no. 4 in A major, op. 90 ("Italian"). Prudential Hall, Newark.
Joseph Silverstein is a veteran violinist and conductor of high reputation. When he visited the New Jersey Symphony Orchestra, the program was familiar and the interpretations likewise. But in his hands it was not merely a generic familiarity; it was like visiting old friends and rediscovering in the process all the virtues that gave them that status. Above all, with the signs of over familiarity so possible - lackluster playing or unfocused interpretations - what emerged was not wear but a warm patina - crisp playing, magnificent balance, and phrasing with direction.
The evening was one of grace and gentility. It was Antiques Roadshow, as it were, but we all knew how much the pieces were worth from the start. Nothing was forced and nothing held back, and every tempo was perfect.
In her brief welcoming remarks cellist-hostess Carole Whitney set the tone. In speaking of the collaboration necessary between conductor and soloist in a concerto, she remarked "This evening we've removed the middleman." The sense of sharing family matters even came through when she pointed out that NJSO violinist Hector Falcon admits to owning 150 CDs of the Beethoven Violin Concerto.
Indeed, Silverstein's playing and leading of that very concerto was emblematic of the whole evening. So richly expressive was his playing, so musical was the orchestra's support, that there was nothing one could say on the debit side of the ledger and nothing left to say on the credit side that wouldn't be superfluous. It was the template against which one could talk about others' performances. Where a Kennedy or Bell or Midori might make something more identifiably "theirs" out of the solo, thereby requiring that the conductor have the orchestra follow their lead in matters of, say, accenting, phrase shape, or rubato, Silverstein's was a performance devoid of obvious "personal statement," which in today's musical world is itself a wonderfully subtle personal statement.
The orchestra responded with warm, often velvety sound. The experience was comfortable: Egmont was Goethe's theater piece, not angst-laden cinema verité; Mendelssohn's "Italian Symphony" was completely idiomatic, its glorious clarinet passages illuminated by Karl Herman's and Andrew Lamy's matched sounds. This was not about imposing sharp edges where they don't really belong. Such ideas can be exciting, but this was about curling up in a wing chair in grandmother's sitting room and knowing that you belonged there, that the antiques surrounding you were family heirlooms, and that they would be passed on to you in excellent condition.
I for one walked out into the cold night with a warm smile.