Monday, Nov. 07, 1955
Visiting Prodigy
Good symphony orchestras acquire personalities. The Philadelphia Orchestra, with its assertive violins and its glib winds, is the suave, subtly domineering man of the world. The New York Philharmonic-Symphony, with, its virtuosity and its rakish unpredictability, is the matinee idol in danger of growing a paunch. The Boston Symphony, with its exquisite balances and flawless inflections, is the American whose manner shows that he was raised by a French governess. The Amsterdam Concertgebouw, with its mellow strings and faintly ponderous sonority, is the sexagenarian with all his hair and a twinkle in his eye. Last week the U.S. got a chance to hear still another famed symphonic character, London's Philharmonia Orchestra, only ten years old. Its personality: blazing prodigy.
In Manhattan for the first of four concerts, during a month's North American tour, the Philharmonia looked much like any other orchestra. When Salzburg-born Conductor Herbert von Karajan took it through the Star-Spangled Banner and God Save the Queen, it sounded much like any other, too. But in a Mozart Divertimento, it became something special.
Unfamiliar Details. Most remarkable was the string playing, which created the sense of tone focus and flexibility usually found in the best string quartets. Behind the strings a pair of French horns entered every now and then with the utmost discretion, like a painter thickening his line without slowing his brush. Mozart came out very warmly indeed. When the slow movement was done, Conductor von Karajan stood momentarily with his arms dangling before his bent figure, as if to say, "How could such music possibly come to an end?"
When it came to Debussy's La Mer, with its enormous orchestral apparatus, the Philharmonia showed the negative side of being a child prodigy. It played all the notes and played them beautifully, and listeners heard unfamiliar details, but somehow the music failed to billow and surge. It was as if a dry land breeze were blowing over Debussy's sea that day. Berlioz' Fantastic Symphony suffered similarly: the fragrant resonances, the languid rubatos and the snarling brasses were there, but the fantasy was hard to find.
Growing Up. The reason probably lay with Conductor von Karajan, 47, who was suffering from an old back ailment, and who is perhaps not his best self in French music anyhow. For the Philharmonia is a chameleon-like instrument that almost too easily adapts to its conductor. It was formed of Britain's choice musicians primarily as a recording orchestra, which, unlike Toscanini's NBC Symphony, never had a permanent conductor. Its founder: Walter Legge, London impresario and record executive (Electrical & Musical Industries Ltd., which successfully launched Angel Records in the U.S.). In order to keep the orchestra intact, Legge not only booked concerts whenever possible, but accepted such esoteric assignments as film sound tracks and recording the works of Russian Composer Nicholas Medtner (1880-1951) for a wealthy enthusiast, the Maharajah of Mysore.
It remains to be heard whether, as it grows up, the Philharmonia ever acquires a real character of its own. In the mean time, it is a thoroughly brilliant and attractive young person to find among the orchestral oldsters.
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