The work of the Philharmonic was, frankly, pretty depressing. I have on several occasions expressed disagreement with Anthony Tommasini’s views in the New York Times, but on this one my reaction was almost identical to his with respect to the orchestral playing. Since that was, in turn, similar to the reservations I’ve registered about the Hong Kong orchestra in the same music under the same conductor (see above), the temptation is to fault the maestro. And perhaps some blame should fall there. But since I don’t yet have experience with him, and do have some with the orchestra, I’m more inclined to locate the problem with them, and most of that in the strings. Time and again, in the extended orchestral interludes early in the act, gestures held no hint of dramatic point, or motifs of premonitory suggestion, or tremolandos of suspense. Even the beautiful cello solo that accompanies Siegmund meeting Sieglinde’s gaze as he takes the draught from her had no real Romantic eloquence. The thought soon occurs: they don’t know what’s going on, and don’t have much instinct for the dramatic element of this core style. They don’t look engaged. We don’t have to go back to Bernstein or Mitropoulos. I well remember the visible eagerness of attack, the urgency of involvement, of Kurt Masur’s players in Beethoven and Brahms, or in the wonderful complete Peer Gynt. None of that here—only an apparently contented coasting along on the notes. Naturally, the big excitements toward the act’s end elicited their wonted sonorities; but nothing had led us there. If Mr. Van Zweden hopes to do more of this sort of thing here, he and his new orchestra have some work to do.

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To conclude, here are three examples of the bonded combo of portamento and messa di voce that has gone missing from Wagnerian style. All are unmarked in the score, though the last has a broad phrase arc that incorporates it, but were not too long ago bits of the unwritten Wagnerian grammar. Their absence renders the music plainer, more declarative.

1. Act 2, ascending, E up to B, then D up to the middle C, Wotan commanding Brünnhilde to gird herself for the Siegmund/Hunding fight (Hong Kong): “Hü-Ü-TE DICH wohl / und Ha-A-LTE DICH fest,” etc. It’s not rubato—it has to be done fast, without taking from the time. And of course the voice has to have the goods.
2. Act 1, Hunding’s first line, ascending, D-flat up to G, asking roughly if Sieglinde has tended to Siegmund (New York): “Du la–AB-TEST IHN?”  Same, save that the first syllable on the G, the “AB,” is only a sixteenth, making the quickness even more crucial, almost like a sforzando.
3. Act 1, Siegmund (to Sieglinde, descending, then ascending, then descending again, expressive of rapturous state, covering the octave between Gs, and thus the cross-passaggio-timbral changes (New York): “denn WO-o-o-O-o-nig weidet . . .” etc. Again the same, though here some broadening helps, as does a quick swell on the upbeat lower G (the second lower-case “o,” giving it a little upward “swoosh.”

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NEXT POST, Friday, March 9: Parsifal, Girard, Nezet-Seguin, et al.

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