I probably am quite mad going to the same concert two nights running. But it is an interesting experiment in a number of different factors.
The most obvious was that Saturday night was my first time hearing Beethoven's First, on Sunday I was coming at it like an old familiar . I heard it quite differently on either night, and have to ponder whether it was because of this factor or because of the acoustical differences between Row G of the stalls and Row A of the balcony. They were really quite different. In the stalls I felt quite surrounded by this wall of sound, almost part of the experience; in the circle I was better able to distinguish the subtleties and differences in instrumental tone. Not that I have the vocabulary to describe them, just take my word for them. I had read of the Haydnesque influence but had been unable to discern this on the Saturday, whereas they were very clear on the Sunday. Nevertheless I feel I would far rather listen to the cited Haydn 'London' Symphonies than Beethoven 1.
I had booked primarily for Beethoven's Ninth, and again it was interesting to hear the differences. I would say that the Saturday performance was better than the Sunday, but was it really? Or was it because it was ace to be part of that tremendous wall-of-sound, especially in the Choral Part of the Fourth movement (which I often think of the Fifth movement, because it's Track 5 on the CD and there is often actually quite a pause in live performances).
Or was it because of subjective factors. I was extremely excited on Saturday, whereas on Sunday I detected a hint of blase in my attitude, or perhaps a caution at not raising my hopes too high after the mindblowing experience the previous night.
Or perhaps there are indiscernible subjective factors. I think I felt pretty much the same physically on either occasion.
I felt that the first movement was a bit lacklustre in comparison to Saturday when it had taken me all of about twelve bars to think "Right, forget the rest, might as well start the standing ovation now..." I noticed a few hesitations or tremors in the strings in the second and third movements, but, let me stress, I only noticed because a) I am so familiar with the work and b) had heard it live in the same hall the previous evening.
I was more convinced than ever that the placing of the soloists was wrong. On Saturday I suspected I was overly influenced by the fact that I was in no position to ogle Gerald Finley as much as I would like to. But on Sunday I was absolutely certain that it was a gross error to place them behind the orchestra and yet on the same level, and in front of a seriously fuck-off bass drum and some massive cymbals. No doubt there was a logic; the conductor was the really wonderful* Bernard Haitink, and he must know what he's doing by now. But there were times when I struggled to hear the soloists, especially John McMaster, over the orchestra.
As on Saturday night, the stand out soloist was Gerald. What can I say? I do so like his voice and I have yet to hear a less than splendid performance from him. Indeed, I have yet to hear a performance that doesn't make me sit up and think 'Wow!'. A committed and muscular yet lyric approach. And a certain something that I can't put into words, something that hits me in the heart.
Ninth is such a fabulous piece of music, sobering to think that Beethoven never heard it. I do not see much point in attempting to do any sort of analysis of it. It is difficult to think of any other mere symphony that has such an ability to affect so many different emotions. At some points I was wanting to dance along, indeed I was sort of, in my seat, in a very static way. And suddenly, it struck me in the finale...I always think of this as being triumph, outpouring of the emotion of a victory. This time I heard pure joy "Freude" rising from the music.
There were mikes present in the auditorium, so I presume it was being recorded for and will be released on the LSO live label. Pre-order me a copy, please!
Oh, and there were some photos, even if none backstage...
The first two show the soloists (from left to right): Twyla Robinson, Karen Cargill, John McMaster and Gerald Finley, with members of the London Symphony Orchestra and London Symphony Chorus; and the final one shows Bernard Haitink taking the enthusiastic applause.
Update Cunning Little Vixen was also in the audience
* and yes, famous
