Bartok: Contrasts, Suite from The Wooden Prince, Dance Suite, Piano Concerto nr. 2

I've been writing so many reports (and other stuff) over the last two weeks that my head spins. So I want to be brief in catching up with the blog. The past week I was lucky enough to attend two live concerts. First, on Tuesday, there was the Philharmonia Orchestra led by Esa-Pekka Salonen in a full Bartok programme. I was able to attend courtesy of HVC who passed on his ticket to me as he is spending time abroad. Remarkably, the Bozar was not at all packed for an evening that was dedicated to some of the best music written in the whole of the 20th century. The programme started with a performance of the Contrasts (1938), featuring the orchestra's Hungarian concertmaster, its first clarinet Mark Van De Wiel and Yefim Bronfman, the soloist for the concerto, at the piano. A fine performance but I would have loved to swap the rather sedate violin for Patricia Kopatchinskaia who would no doubt have pulled out all the stops. Then the long suite of the Wooden Prince (1921). It was the first time I saw Salonen on the rostrum and it is a delight to watch his precise and athletic beat (the orchestra I have heard live before, led by the late Sinopoli). Salonen comes across as quite modest and self-effacing too (but no conductor is like that, of course). The suite was most expertly played, stretching a shimmering arc from the Rheingold-like opening murmurings to the manic concluding dance. The Philharmonia mustered gorgeous, almost Scriabinesque colours. After the break followed the Dance Suite (1923), one of my favourite Bartok pieces. I have Solti's blistering account in my ears and Salonen did not quite bring the same level of energy to bear. But it was a genuine pleasure to hear this wonderful piece nevertheless. To cap it off the orchestra and Bronfman offered a monumental and spectacular rendition of the Second Piano Concerto (1931). At first sight it is maybe strange to end a programme with a concerto but in this case it was totally appropriate. In a live performance it is obvious how difficult it is for the orchestra and soloist to jointly pull this off. For the soloist this must be like climbing K2 or so, but Bronfman worked his way through it without as much as raising an eyebrow. He was even gracious enough to offer, in a mock gesture, a hanky to a member of the audience who sneezed in between movements.