Monday, February 3, 2025

The Hagen Quartet - Schumann & Schubert - 01/29/25

Robert Schumann: String Quartet, Op. 41, No. 3 
Franz Schubert: String Quintet in C Major (D. 956, Op. 163) 
 Enrico Bronzi: Cello 

Who said January was quiet in Rome? Well, I may have, but I was quickly proved wrong lately with not only a terrific performance by the orchestra and chorus of the Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia a couple of weeks ago, but also by the endlessly globe-trotting Austrian Hagen Quartet last Wednesday night at the same Parco della Musica Ennio Morricone, whose close proximity to my apartment was particularly appreciated for the latter since the concert was scheduled to start at the ungodly hour of 8:30 PM. 
But how could right-minded music afficionados resist a double bill featuring Schumann and Schubert? Turned out not many did, as I found out a week or so before the concert, when I was informed by email that it had been moved from the small Sala Sinopoli to the medium-sized Sala Petrassi. The heart-warming change was not without its challenges though, as many audience members apparently had not realized that a different venue meant a different seat, or had not checked the message at all. But thanks to the ever-patient ushers, everybody eventually found their seat and the performance finally got underway. 

Schumann’s String Quartet, Op. 41, No. 3 has probably one of the dreamiest openings of the entire chamber music repertoire, and as expertly played by the as-tight-as-ever Hagen Quartet (Practice does make perfect, and they’ve had over four decades of it), it certainly had a wonderfully calming effect on the audience who just a few minutes before was still in the throes of utter confusion. And it only got better from there. 
Although Schumann dedicated his Op. 41 to his friend Felix Mendelssohn, the influence of the usual suspects that are Mozart and Beethoven were clearly felt as well, and in the best possible way, of course. The work’s infinite complexity and its wide variety of ideas, as well as its inherent attractiveness, makes it a joy to hear it over and over again, and Wednesday’s glowing performance was no exception. 

Since Schumann’s half of the program was only about 30 minutes, it felt like the intermission came a bit early, but then again, it was needed for audience and musicians since the Schubert’s half would clock in at about 50 minutes. And what 50 minutes! I think that neophytes and connoisseurs would all agree that only one listen to the String Quintet in C Major explains why it has been called “epic” and “extraordinary”, among many other superlatives. Moreover, the fact that it was written shortly before Schubert’s untimely death, and neglected for 25 years, makes you wonder how many other classical music masterpieces lie somewhere in undeserved obscurity, but let’s not get side-tracked.
Back to the Sala Petrassi on Wednesday evening, the sense of awe routinely produced by a live interpretation of the work quickly filled the concert hall as the Hagen Quartet and their special guest cellist Enrico Bronzi confidently delivered a technically flawless, emotionally gripping and, maybe even more important in this case, seamlessly unified, performance of Schubert’s masterpiece. I mean, it cannot be an easy task for an Italian musician to fit in so well into such a highly Germanic affair, but Bronzi nailed it. 
One of the most striking characteristics of Schubert’s stunning composition, besides its unusual length and the bold addition of a cello, is the seemingly bottomless well of ideas the tireless composer drew inspiration from. As it was coming to life in front of us on Wednesday night, the quintet’s expansive range of moods, from exquisite Viennese gemütlichkeit to irrepressible death-related terror to infectious folk-music exuberance, not to mention its sheer beauty, made it an exciting ride as well as a poignant swan song. And a priceless gift to us.

Sunday, January 26, 2025

Orchestra e Coro dell’Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia - Schubert & Rossini - 01/18/25

Franz Schubert: Symphony No. 8 in B minor, D. 759 (The Unfinished) 
Gioachino Rossini: Stabat Mater 
Conductor: Myung-Whun Chung 
Bass: Adolfo Corrado 
Mezzo-soprano: Teresa Iervolino 
Soprano: Chiara Isotton 
Tenor: Levy Sekgapane 

After some wonderfully laid-back holidays and a quiet first half of January – Apparently most of the hordes expected for Rome’s 2025 Jubilee are charitably holding back for now – things perked up a little bit last weekend when the brilliant Orchestra dell’Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia and its equally brilliant chorus went to work on an exciting program featuring Schubert’s perennially popular Unfinished symphony and Rossini’s less well-known but definitely worth-knowing Stabat Mater at the nearby Parco della Musica Ennio Morricone. 
The link between the German and the Italian composers may not have been obvious at first, at least to me, except that anything having survived from their respective œuvres would probably satisfy even the pickiest music lover. But then our listening guide Stefano Catucci helpfully pointed out in his introduction that both artists, while fully aware of the Zeitgeist they lived in, were also wistfully looking back into the recent past in which the ubiquitous melody reigned supreme and, having learned their lesson, eventually used it as not just a significant ingredient, but the core, of their compositions. Et voilà.
So last Saturday, after the rain stopped and the sky cleared up, it was in this enlightened state of mind that I sat down in the packed Sala Santa Cecilia to become reacquainted with an old Schubertian friend and make the acquaintance of what was about to become a new Rossinian favorite. 

For some reason that I have never been able to explain, I was not really won over by Schubert’s Unfinished when I first heard it many years ago. But I have inevitably come to my senses since then as it has slowly grown on me, and I am now one of its biggest fans. And seriously, what’s not to love about an ambitious tour de force that offers the best of both worlds, the intense lyricism of the budding Romantic movement and the rigorous structure of the late Classical era? It is not by chance that it is routinely considered the first Romantic symphony. It is just too bad that Schubert never got around to, well, finishing it. 
But finished or not, Schubert’s eighth symphony is still a glorious experience for anyone undertaking it, as Korean maestro Myung-Whun Chung and the orchestra proved last Saturday in a very satisfying performance that felt both grand and intimate, and did not leave any detail to chance. Conductor and musicians indeed made sure that the abrupt shifts of mood of the highly contrasted first movement were vigorously conveyed but not off-putting, before giving us priceless opportunities to indulge in a bit of high-quality Weltschmerz in the quieter second movement. And then it was over before we knew it. 

After intermission, we stayed in the early 19th century but jumped from Germany to Italy for the Stabat Mater that Rossini was commissioned to write several years after retiring from opera composition. Fact is, the Latin medieval hymn describing the Virgin Mary’s suffering as her son Jesus Christ was being crucified has been adapted plenty of times throughout the centuries, but after being totally carried away by its dazzling power last Saturday, I would err to guess that Rossini’s flamboyant take on it is probably the most terrifically entertaining version of them all. 
Besides the orchestra, which effortlessly transitioned between the two wildly different genres, the superb chorus of the Accademia Nazionale of Santa Cecilia impeccably came through as well. Among the four soloists saddled with mercilessly challenging parts, the fearless ladies, mezzo-soprano Teresa Iervolino and soprano Chiara Isotton, fared better, but tenor Levy Sekgapane and bass Adolfo Corrado got the job done efficiently too. In the end, this Stabat Mater may have sounded a bit colorful and down-to-earth – in a word, a bit “secular” – for such elevated liturgical text, but it also was seriously uplifting, which is after all not a bad way to kick off the New Year. Onward and forward.