L'Ascension - Messiaen
Violin Concerto (L'Arbre Des songes) - Henri Dutilleux
Sorcerer's Apprentice - Dukas
Bacchus Et Ariane Suite No 2 - Roussel
When Messiaen arranged L'Ascension, his orchestral "symphonic meditations", for organ in 1934, he replaced the original third movement, "AllΘluias sur la trompette, AllΘluia sur la cymbale", with the more outgoing "Transports de joie". Nothing in the orchestral original has quite the sunburst of the movement Messiaen added to the organ version, and no orchestra can replicate the implacable steadiness of the mechanically breathing organ in the slow, time-stilling pace of the other movements.
Gerhard Markson's performance with the National Symphony Orchestra last Friday was observant and patient, if expressively somewhat muted, sometimes even chilly. Where it scored was in the ability to balance various levels of the discourse so the music reacquired some of the strangeness it must have had when new. In this regard, the pitting of the sometimes hovering, sometimes meandering violins against the melodic woodwind plaint of the second movement, "AllΘluias sereins d'une Γme qui dΘsire le ciel", was particularly impressive.
L'Arbre Des Songes, the violin concerto by the doyen of French composers, Henri Dutilleux, dates from 1985. Dutilleux has identified his principal concerns as including mystery, magic, memory and metamorphosis. The concerto has luxuriant textures, cut through with glinting percussive interventions, lit by the distinctive tones of the Hungarian cimbalom. With Pierre Amoyal as the authoritative soloist, and Markson a sympathetic partner, the sense of purposeful thrust was always well maintained. Even the dangerous evocation of orchestral tuning-up was successfully brought off.
Markson does not come across as a warm-hearted conductor. He conveys a concern to make every note count, and he clearly scans a score with a keen eye and ear for telling detail. The discipline he's bringing to the playing of the NSO is particularly welcome and long overdue. As demonstrations of orchestral know-how, his handling of Dukas's L'Apprenti Sorcier and the second suite from Roussel's 1930 ballet, Bacchus Et Ariane, were admirable. But there's a geniality in the Dukas that he bypassed, and harmonic tints in the Roussel that can leaven its tendency to detachment. Perhaps there are further qualities to Markson's music-making that he has yet to divulge to us.
