A couple of years before he died in 2003, Luciano Berio composed a completion of Turandot, the opera that Puccini left unfinished. New York first heard this completion, I believe, in 2006. Act III was performed in Carnegie Hall with Aprile Millo as Turandot.
Martin Bernheimer, that great critic, was sitting next to me. At a certain point, we turned to each other and whispered, “Berio.” Puccini had left off and the later composer had come in—unmistakably.
I thought of that on Thursday night in Salzburg’s Great Festival Hall. The orchestra onstage was playing Rendering, a work that Berio composed in 1990 or so. It is a treatment of a symphony that Schubert left unfinished (no, not that one, another one, catalogued as D. 936A). Berio did not complete this symphony. He blended himself into what Schubert had left behind. The piece has a split personality: Schubert/Berio. Often, it comes across as Schubertian Berio.
The orchestra onstage was the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra of Amsterdam, and it was conducted by Klaus Mäkelä, the fabulous Finn, who will assume the reins of the orchestra in 2027. At the same time, he will assume the reins of an orchestra some 4,100 miles away: the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.
Is that wise? Should Mäkelä lead the RCO and the CSO at the same time? We can have that debate some other day.
It goes almost without saying that Rendering was well conducted and well played (well rendered). I have a question, though—a rude one: Was it a waste of time? A waste of the RCO’s time and the Salzburg Festival’s time? Personally, I would rather hear straight Schubert or straight Berio. In my view, Rendering is sort of a skillful nullity. But tastes differ, clearly.
After intermission came one symphony, a great and sprawling one, by a single composer: Gustav Mahler. This was his Symphony No. 5. If you will forgive a bit of the macabre, Leonard Bernstein chose to be buried with it—buried with the score. (The grave is in Green-Wood Cemetery, Brooklyn.)
In the opening pages, Klaus Mäkelä established a right pulse. The music jolted. Mäkelä was good with rhythm all through the symphony—which was fortunate, because Mahler is very good with rhythm too. You can see it in any number of his scores.
By the way, don’t you suppose he was among the greatest conductors who ever lived? In Mozart and everything else?
In his Mahler, Mäkelä was attentive to every detail but not over-attentive. Dynamics were numerous and subtle. When the music called for a coiled intensity, Mäkelä supplied it, and when Mahler relaxed his fist, Mäkelä did too. In the main, Mäkelä wore his heart on his sleeve—or Mahler’s heart. You must not be too cool or “objective” in Mahler; that is seldom Mahlerian.
I wish to note that, in the penultimate measure of the second movement, the pizzicatos were together—which is man-bites-dog, even when a top orchestra is on the stage.
The RCO players have earned their positions. There was virtuosic and stylish playing from that band. Miro Petkov, the principal trumpet, knows how to sing. So does Vesko Eschkenazy, the concertmaster. Katy Wooley, the young Englishwoman who is the RCO’s principal horn, was amazingly stable on that recalcitrant instrument—more than stable: she was bold, assured, and musical.
On his timpani, Tomohiro Ando grew very quiet—to the point of pianissimo—but remained audible, which is a trick. The woodwinds as a class provided Mahlerian sass, bite, and plangency. They were downright exciting when, in coordination, they pointed their bells out.
Perry Hoogendijk proved a deft tuba. I don’t think I have ever in my life written those words: “deft tuba.” And the tuba is an important instrument in Mahler 5.
My biggest complaint relates to the fourth movement, the Adagietto, one of the most beloved things in all of Mahler, and all of music. It felt overmanaged to me—overconducted. Bordering on precious. I would have liked it breathing more, and moving on naturally.
But this was an admirable and gratifying performance of this great symphony. The players seemed to enjoy it too, as delight or contentment was written on many faces. Concertmaster Eschkenazy could hardly stop smiling.
Is the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra as good as the Salzburg Festival’s resident orchestra, the Vienna Philharmonic? Comparisons are “odorous,” says a Shakespeare character, but I’m not sure the RCO is junior varsity to anyone.
“Mäkelä is so young!” people say (he is twenty-nine, only two years younger than Schubert when he died). When these people say “young,” they mean “too young.” If so, he will grow out of it. And he has been plenty mature for years.
