He came on smiling, and facing the orchestra flashed an impish grin which appeared to say “We’re going to have fun with this!”. Then he stood Buddha-still for a few seconds seeming to centre himself before starting to conduct, silently controlling the music and emotion of the performance.
We were at the Berliner Philharmonie last night to hear the Berlin Philharmoniker play Janáček’s Cunning Little Vixen (last movement) and Mahler’s The Song of the Earth. Our seats were right at the back behind the orchestra, so we had a clear view of Rattle. Even from that position, the sound was excellent. The music was wonderful, but I was engrossed by Rattle’s conducting. He is extraordinary! He was, gently, in absolute control of what was going on, hardly referring to his score for pages at a time and only then with the merest glance.
When the singers began, he seemed to stand beside and face them, supporting them, while still being in command of everything that was going on in the huge orchestra (e.g. eight double basses!). He was like a magician, waving his magic wand baton in his right hand and gently drawing music from the players and their instruments with his left. Sometimes his hand smoothed the music and at other times he seemed to scatter fairy dust on it or just throw the sound at the orchestra. At the beginning, his movements were like an elegant ballet. Occasionally he made frantic, convulsive movements. He warned each player in good time about their important, forthcoming contributions, clearly signalling how he wanted something played with the slightest movement, jab of his hand or sudden change in facial expression, making fleeting, deep eye contact with them all at some time or other. At times he stooped, as if weighed down by the weight of the music. Now and then he would hold his left hand up to signal to play softly, or let it tremble rapidly. His arms outstretched when communicating with the whole orchestra, and then hardly moving or making just tiny movements when “talking” to the flautist or oboeist when they were solo. Now and then he bounced up and down in anticipation of a jolly piece. He could be like a bird gliding when turning to conduct the singer and keep in touch with the whole orchestra, or at other times flapping like a bird trying to take off in flight.
I must have been sitting about fifteen metres from Rattle, so could see his face but not the fine detail. Even so, it was highly expressive, and changed by the second or less. His brows furrowed in concentration or grief, eyebrows raised, smiled, made eye contact with players and singer, opened and closed his mouth in various way, all in anticipation of the sound he wanted.
When the orchestra had finished playing there was a long (15 second) complete silence while it felt as if the last drops of music still dripped out of him. The audience then went wild with their applause. He must have been shattered with being a conduit for the emotion and technical brilliance of the music but he then, very graciously, directed the audience’s applause to all the singers and players, kissing the singers, going to the back of the orchestra to embrace and applaud others, saying a few words to them individually and collectively (the audience couldn’t hear these), and grinning warmly at them all.
The concert is being repeated on 16 and 17 December, the latter broadcast live on the internet. If you like Janáček or Mahler, listen in, but have some tissues next to you! It will be seriously moving.
In our U-bhan carriage on our way to the concert were a couple of buskers: an excellent saxophonist and a guitarist. On the way back, there was a fine violinist playing Boccherini’s Minuet (String quintet in E, op. 13, no. 5) in the U-bahn entrance. Wow!!! And now for something completely different, tonight we are off to see Peter Bonev, who describes himself as “Der Jimi Hendrix des Bulgarischen Dudelsacks”. (The Jimi Hendrix of the Bulgarian bagpipes). We saw him performing in the street outside the Mauerpark on Sunday, and he is really good.
