Continuing their discoveries into the realm of the Jean Sibelius oeuvre, the Finnish Baroque Orchestra and conductor Tomas Djupsjöbacka, joined by violinist Ilya Gringolts, unveiled their latest installment at Verkatehdas, Hämeenlinna on Friday, presenting the audience with revelatory readings of two seminal works by the composer – that is to say Symphony No. 4 in A minor, op. 63 (1910-11) and Violin Concerto in D minor, op. 47 (1903-04/1905).
Keeping up with their previous Sibelian endeavors, Lemminkäinen, op. 22 (1895/1897/1900/1939) and works for string orchestra, the Verkatehdas coupling took the listeners on an inspired quest into form and color, applying historically informed practices into the service of the composers most radical symphony and best-loved concerto, evoking early 20th century sonic idioms with present-day insight – to spellbinding effect.
Performing on period instruments in orchestral line-up akin to that of Kajanus’s orchestra of the Helsinki Philharmonic Society, encompassing duple winds, four horns, two trumpets, three trombones, timpani, percussion, six first violins, six second violins, five violas, four celli and three double basses, the FiBO and Djupsjöbacka nurtured the art of orchestral chamber music at the highest level, evoking the text of the JSW critical edition scores into resplendent aural reality.
Premiered in Helsinki in April 1911, Sibelius’s Fourth Symphony is, in many ways, an utmost striking orchestral affair. Perhaps the magnum opus in a creative phase begun with String Quartet in D minor, op. 56 Voces intimae (1908-09) and extending all the way to the first version of Symphony No. 5 in E-flat major, op. 82 (1914-15), the ca. thirty-eight-minute score in four movements is wrought of transparent chiaroscuro textures and poignant harmonies, all drawn from standard orchestral setup, with glockenspiel added in the finale.
Sibelius’s 1909 trip to the cliffs of Koli provided the initial impetus for the new symphony, into which musical material from a projected orchestral song, based on Edgar Allan Poe’s narrative poem The Raven (1845) was subsequently incorporated. To what extent did these extra-musical ingredients shape the actual symphonic dramaturgy may be disputed, but it is perhaps safe to say that the dark-hued raiment of the music is certainly related to these sources on some levels.
To paraphrase Sir Simon Rattle, the Tempo molto moderato, quasi adagio opening movement may be regarded as Parsifal compressed into ten minutes of orchestral narrative. Low strings and bassoons introduce the four-note opening motif, C-D-F-sharp-E, its clashing tritone core exposed to the bone. A pensive cello solo ensues, leading to orchestral build-up, colored by gnarly interjections from muted horns and culminating in formidable brass edifice. Fleeting shapes of mist-clad instrumental apparitions take shape and dissolve as the movement unfolds in the manner of some nightly procession, eventually fading into silence.
Ensuing quasi attacca, the Allegro molto vivace second movement picks up its cue from Claude Debussy, perhaps, as Sibelius adds four minutes of airy orchestral choreography into his symphonic trajectory, primed by solo oboe and divisi violas. Here dreamscapes and nightmares merge, as the music hovers mid-air in passages of splendid orchestral fantasy. Elusive and enigmatic, the movement ends abruptly with laconic timpani strokes.
Sibelius’s most important slow movement, Il tempo largo harks back to the Brucknerian idiom, albeit in unmistakably Sibelian vein, recalling the mood and ambiance of The Swan of Tuonela (1895/1897/1900). Meditative solo flute introduces the movement, conversing with solo clarinet, joined by celli and basses, and answered by horns. Gradually building up towards an orchestral climax around figure G, the music is quick to return to its chamber-like roots, paring down to motivic kernels in the stings, colored by horn pedal points.
The Allegro finale attempts to break free from the darkness, climbing the mountainside while sunbeams dance on the glockenspiel. Gazing towards the summit, the music keeps pushing forward, until a chasm opens at its feet, pulling the movement into the abyss. The material becomes fragmented into quasi-Webernian shreds of sound, somewhat in the manner of the closing pages of the Stürmisch bewegt, mit größter Vehemenz second movement – also in A minor – from Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 5 (1902-03/1904/1911). Lost in darkness, solo flute and oboe search for a way out, to no avail, and the symphony ends with musical resignation of eight A minor string chords, marked mf dolce.
A performance of unique intensity and pristine translucence, FiBO and Djupsjöbacka delivered a chamber ensemble reading of symphonic proportions, serving Sibelius’s instrumental writing with utmost intimacy, without compromising its dramatic potential. A rare feat of color and detail, the music was brought to life with almost tangible momentum, while retaining extraordinary sense of frailty and finesse, as indicated in the score. If there are still record companies around eager to commit themselves in documenting one more Sibelius symphony cycle, may it be done with these remarkable musicians.
Following the intermission, the Violin Concerto was heard in equally ear-opening performance. Composed in 1903-04, Sibelius’s only full-scale concertante score was first heard in Helsinki in February 1904, with the composer on the podium and Viktor Novácek as soloist. The premiere was a problematic affair, provoking Sibelius to withdraw the music and carry out substantial revisions, resulting in the now-famous second version, introduced in Berlin in October 1905 by violinist Karel Halír tackling the solo part and Richard Strauss on the podium.
Cast in three movements, the ca. thirty-five-minute concerto opens with an expansive Allegro moderato, in which the solo part emerges from the ostinato clouds of muted strings, building up to white-heat virtuosity. A substantial first movement of almost symphonic proportions, with quasi-cadential dexterity embedded, Sibelius’s concerto hovers between the two idioms in various ways, achieving, at times, the sense of organic unity. Interestingly, in some other passages, the seams are left quite open, more akin to the composer’s earlier works.
The central Adagio di molto is introduced by woodwinds and timpani, their nightly utterances inspiring the solo violin to sing without words. The movement’s dreamy outer sections are contrasted by passionate central section for full orchestra, later joined by the soloist. After some tempestuous dialogue and glowing lyricism, the music resolves in tranquility.
The finale rondo, marked Allegro, ma non tanto, is propelled by rousing timpani pulses, out of which virtuosic dancescapes are awaken. Steadfast and unyielding, the movement’s choreography pushes on, its breathtaking rounds finally resolving in brilliant arpeggio passages, followed by one last climb, punctuated by three sforzato chords from the orchestra.
Sounded out with outstanding agility and lyricism by Gringolts and the FiBO under Djupsjöbacka, the Violin Concerto was beautifully done at Verkatehdas, given in performance awash of soloistic and orchestral virtuosity, unfolded with immaculate sense of architecture and balance.
Following the invigorating concertante adventure, Sibelius’s Humoresque in E-flat major, op. 89/3 (1917) for violin and orchestra was given as the perfect encore. A three-minute gem, the music opens with cuckoo-calls, setting the stage for the most charming country-scenery of buoyance and spirited allure. Brought to life with love and full-on musicality, the performance put smiles on everyone’s faces, closing the evening in blissful manner. Hopefully there’s more Sibelius to come soon!
Finnish Baroque Orchestra
Tomas Djupsjöbacka, conductor
Ilya Gringolts, violin
Jean Sibelius: Symphony No. 4 in A minor, op. 63 (1910-11) for orchestra
Jean Sibelius: Violin Concerto in D minor, op. 47 (1903-04/1905)
Jean Sibelius: Humoresque in E-flat major, op. 89/3 (1917) for violin and orchestra (encore)
Verkatehdas, Hämeenlinna, Finland
Friday 24 May 2024, 7 pm
© Jari Kallio
AIM - Adventures in Music 
Leave a comment