Arts & Events

I first experienced the magic of Bruckner when legendary conductor Sergiu Celibidache made a guest appearance in 1989 with San Francisco Symphony in Bruckner’s 4th or “Romantic” Symphony. (Bruckner himself gave his 4th Symphony the subtitle “Romantic,” though he seems to have had in mind medieval chivalry rather than 19th century Romanticism.) The intensity of Celibidache’s famed devotion to Bruckner was palpable; and I found that performance of Bruckner’s 4th Symphony absolutely riveting. To this day, that concert remains one of my all time favorites. At present, Manfred Honeck, Music Director of the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, is in town to lead San Francisco Symphony in three performances, November 22-4, of Bruckner’s 4th Symphony paired with Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 22 in E-flat Major, K. 482, with Leif Ove Andsnes as soloist. I attended Saturday’s performance at Davies Symphony Hall. 

Anton Bruckner was born in 1824 in the Austrian village of Ansfelden. When Anton’s father, a schoolteacher, died when young Anton was thirteen, his mother sent him to the music school at nearby St. Florian monastery, where he served for four years as a choirboy. During this time, Anton Bruckner received intensive musical training. In 1841, Bruckner took on a series of jobs as a licenced schoolteacher, but he found teaching in rural Austrain schools quite boring. So when St. Florian invited Bruckner to return in 1845 as a member of their musical faculty, he jumped at the chance. At St. Florian, Bruckner became a virtuoso improviser on the monastery’s organ. I once visited St. Florian, admired its bucolic setting and its Baroque architecture, and discovered that Bruckner’s body is buried there in the crypt beneath the church’s organ. He died in Vienna in 1896. 

Among Bruckner’s nine symphonies, his 4th was his first triumph, and it has remained the most accessible and often performed of his symphonies. However, like all of Bruckner’s music, his 4th Symphony by no means proceeds in anything like the traditional structures of composition. Bruckner composes in blocks of music, and there is usually a single theme in each block. A first theme is introduced in the first block, and a second theme in the second block. Then Bruckner returns to develop the first theme in the third block, and he returns to develop the second theme in the fourth block, and so on. In his 4th Symphony, the opening theme is sounded in a horn solo, beautifully performed here by principal horn player Robert Ward. This horn theme is then taken up by other wind instruments. Gradually, over a lengthy span of seventy-four measures, this opening theme develops as it is shared by various wind instruments, often used in an “echo effect.” It builds to a full orchestration and a fortissimo climax. Then, suddenly, a new block of music intervenes as a second, lighter theme is introduced in soft dynamics and a dancelike tune in a rhythm so often used by the composer that it is dubbed the “Bruckner rhythm”: two quarter notes followed by a triplet of three-quarter notes in 4/4 time.  

Transitions from one musical block to the next are often marked by extreme changes in dynamics. If a block begins softly, it may gradually build to a fortissimo climax; but often it does not, or, rather, the loud climax will not mark the end of this block, which often returns to close out in softer dynamics. Then, when the next block begins, it is often quite loud in its opening measures. Within a single block, there are also frequent dynamic changes. In his 4th Symphony, Bruckner’s opening movement, marked “Moving, not too fast,” contains many musical blocks, which alternate back and forth. His second movement, marked Andante quasi allegretto,” opens with two measures of muted chords in the strings, after which the cellos announce a gorgeous melodic theme over muted accompaniment from other strings. Then woodwinds take up this theme over a pizzicato strumming from the strings. There follows a lovely passage in the violas, then a brief flute solo, admirably performed here by principal flutist Tim Day. 

The third movement is a Scherzo, and in our San Francisco Symphony performances we heard the “Hunting Scherzo” Bruckner wrote to replace his original scherzo. Once again, horns predominate here. At first, they are heard as if from a distance, over hushed string tremolos. Then all the various brass instruments join in the hunt, and this opening block builds to a loud climax. Suddenly, however, a new, softer block of music intervenes, and we hear a dancelike Ländler in which oboe and clarinet proclaim an innocent rustic dance tune. This bucolic turn of events is short-lived, however, and we return to a new, abbreviated block of the opening “Hunting Scherzo.”  

The fourth and final movement opens with woodwinds and horns accompanied by quivering strings. The horns then recall the Scherzo’s hunting call. The full orchestra now builds to a thundering climax, then subsides. Now a new block ensues, softer in dynamics and lighter in texture, with flutes and clarinets recalling both the earlier melodies of the Andante and the rustic dance tune of the third movement. At Saturday’s performance, I chuckled to myself at the juxtaposition of the fortissimo climax of the first block and the piano dynamics and lighter, almost insouciant texture of the second block, finding this a typically Brucknerian juxtaposition. In fact, this same juxtaposition occurs twice in the Finale, and I chuckled both times. To close out this 4th Symphony, Bruckner adds a brilliant coda in which we hear a return to the Symphony’s opening horn call, then builds to thundering crescendo in full orchestra. Throughout this 4th Symphony of Anton Bruckner, conductor Manfred Honeck adroitly paced this symphony’s many alternations of blocks of music and their respective dynamic changes.  

The first half of Saturday’s program consisted of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 22 in E-flat Major, K. 482, with Norwegian pianist Leif Ove Andsnes as soloist. Written in late 1785 when Mozart was also composing Le Nozze di Figaro, his 22nd Piano Concerto conveys a serene sense of dignity that recalls these elements in the character of Countess Almaviva. In fact, several of this piano concerto’s melodies sound quite a bit like those sung by the Countess in “Porgi amor,” and “Dove sono.” The concerto opens with a brass fanfare accompanied by the timpani. There ensues what might easily be portions of a wind serenade, with dissonances in the bassoons. When the piano enters, it does so in brief, elegant passages, gracefully performed here by Leif Ove Andsnes. Later in the first movement, Andsnes played a cadenza written by John Fraser, Mozart having left no cadenzas.  

The second movement, a darkly brooding Andante, is one of the few slow movements Mozart wrote in a minor key. One might liken its mood to that of the Countess Almaviva when she laments the philandering of her husband and even contemplates death. Once again, winds tend to predominate here, and there is imaginative interplay between the flute and bassoon.  

The third and final movement, marked Rondo: Allegro, is full of surprises. It opens with a “hunting tune,” then launches into orchestral passages emphasisng the winds, especially flute and bassoon. Suddenly, however, a retardando slows the music down to a momentary pause, until the piano enters pianissimo with an unassuming phrase that has been likened to “a search for a theme.” Little by little, the piano asserts itself with rapid passage figurations. In this performance, Leif Ove Andsnes played a third movement cadenza written by Geza Anda. Then Mozart surprises us with an Andantino slow section that sounds again like something out of a wind serenade. This is introspective music, again, not unlike the introspection of Countess Almaviva as she searches inwardly for a glimmer of hope. When the tempo returns to Allegro, that hope is suggested in an outpouring of gorgeous melodies. But Mozart has one final surprise in store for us. He adds a brilliant coda in which resounding chords are undercut by strings playing the same gentle notes we heard earlier in the moments of introspection. Then, of all things, we hear again the “search for a theme” in the piano, followed by a dramatic rush to a resoundingly affirmative close.  

Although Mozart’s Piano Concert No. 22 offers little in the way of bravado displays of pianistic virtuosity, Leif Ove Andsnes gave a consistently elegant performance; and in this he was partnered by conductor Manfred Honeck’s sensitive attention to detail and nuances of feeling. Both Andsnes and Honeck received enthusiastic applause from the Davies Hall audience. As an encore, Leif Ove Andsnes played a folk song by Norwegian composer Edvard Grieg.