Flora Willson 

Prom 44: BBCSSO/Kolesnikov/New review – expressive debut an exercise in delayed gratification

Samy Moussa’s second symphony was cinematic in sweep but lacked impact. Pavel Kolesnikov brought magic to Shostakovich and slow-burn Stravinsky was irresistible
  
  

Astonishing … Gemma New (centre) conducts the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra with Pavel Kolesnikov (left) at the piano
Astonishing … Gemma New (centre) conducts the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra with Pavel Kolesnikov (left) at the piano Photograph: Chris Christodoulou

Every musical era has its characteristic audience faux pas. Once upon a time it was failing to remove extravagant headwear, which obscured the view of those sitting behind. These days – and despite rules, signage and announcements galore – it’s mobile phones that regularly intrude. Four were dropped in the first half of this prom alone. Parts of the second half were filmed (arms aloft) by a prommer. And conductor Gemma New began her much-anticipated Proms debut in duet with a ringtone, a sound particularly out of place in the opening of Samy Moussa’s Symphony No 2 (its European premiere, with the composer present), which emerges from a single note before refracting gradually into slow-moving suspensions and circling repetitions of a single scale-like motif. New’s emphatic, muscular sweeps drew hard-earned tone quality from the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra. But the piece’s soundworld is strangely bland, like a blockbuster film score without the big tunes.

No one can accuse pianist Pavel Kolesnikov of blandness. Yet this performance of Shostakovich’s Second Piano Concerto was distinctly measured. In the first movement – launched here by ultra-perky woodwind – Kolesnikov nonchalantly produced by turn silken legato and crisp articulation, while the finale was quietly rather than extravagantly impish from orchestra and soloist alike. The second movement, though, was pure magic: Kolesnikov unspooled the piano’s melody as if one of Rachmaninov’s inspirations, against a heartstoppingly calm orchestral backdrop.

After the interval, Stravinsky’s ballet score The Firebird – played in its entirety, rather than the highlights-only Suite – was in New’s ever-expressive hands an exercise in delayed gratification. Yes, there were deep, gritty shadows lurking in the meandering lower strings of the opening. But much of what followed was neat and politely moderate rather than dramatic. Gradually, though, the safety catch came off. Woodwind solos gained compelling shapes and the lower brass became more unruly, the tuba applied to the score like a supersized highlighter. By the final minutes, the payoff felt astonishing: the all-important horn solo warm and easy, the now-familiar melody passed around the orchestra with the awe accorded a newborn, the brass gleaming irresistibly.

 

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