Ken is traveling with us from Budapest to Antwerp. He is an integral part of our Beer Tour 2006 and a great friend. Ken has a background in media, so his writings should be a little more polished than mine.
Sept. 28 – Amsterdam , on the #170 bus returning from my last concert …
God knows, there are others on this trip who can – and perhaps will – write columns far better than I can on critical beer tasting (Dave), comparisons of world culture (Val and Eric), after-hours European nightlife (can't wait to see that one from Scott!) and, unfortunately, “Hitler's Revenge” (Paul). But I feel somewhat qualified to give you classical music fans out there my impressions of the orchestras and venues I've seen. Warning: this could get pretty esoteric, so perhaps only symphonic geeks need continue.
During my three-week Beer-thoven extravaganza, I've had the pleasure of hearing four orchestras play in five countries in five wonderful concert halls. If I had to boil my impressions down to three words, they would be:
The Concertgebouw rocks!
Happily, I don't think Val will edit me quite that much, but let's start with that ensemble and their venue of the same name. This was the only orchestra I heard twice – on the opening night of my trip while they were on tour in Budapest and just now on my closing night at their home hall in Amsterdam .
In neither case did they have a soloist or a concerto on their program. Yet in Budapest their Mahler Symphony #1 (under the baton of their music director, Mariss Jansons) evoked a wildly rhythmic and enthusiastic four-minute ovation which led to three encores. Dave and I were swept up in their playing and the audience's manic, though seated, response.
In Amsterdam their precise, molto presto playing of the marc h movement of Tchaikovsky's Symphony #6 was phenomenal. That 10 minutes of music was worth every penny of the $68 (yikes!) ticket. This was the only concert that I attended alone. The other guys missed a true experience. The audience that night did a very non-European thing – they applauded after that movement. It surprised the guest conductor, Danielle Gatti, so much that he waited nearly a minute to compose himself, the players and we nuts in the seats before he continued with the last movement. Then, when the piece was over, the audience did another strange thing: it gave the orchestra a standing ovation – rare in Europe and the only one of my trip. No encore this time though. I think the players were still gasping for air from the marc h!
The Concertgebouw hall ( Amsterdam 's, if not Europe's, equivalent of New York 's Carnegie) is a century-old gem: very good acoustics, enough legroom, intimate, and an Art Nouveau joy for the eyes. In short, everything Portland 's Schnitzer Hall is NOT!
The auditorium is decorated with classical music's version of the Dallas Cowboys' Ring of Honor. Names of composers from Bach to Bartok adorn the balcony and walls. A few – such as Clementi – are immortalized even though their popularity has waned since their names were inscribed. Other names were unfamiliar to me, but presumably not to the Dutch who frequent the Concertgebouw.
The other halls I visited were each unusual in their own right. Budapest 's Palace of Art is a modern wonder. It's eye-popping both inside and out and has tremendous acoustics. After the Concertgebouw's performance there, we were treated to a concert of color on the exterior of the building – a light show to send everyone home happy. Check out the photo.
Paul, Chandra and I took a night off from Oktoberfest to visit Munich 's modern Gastieg complex. We heard that city's philharmonic under the direction of guest conductor Yakov Kreizberg, a frequent guest conductor of the Oregon Symphony back home. The Gasteig has a somewhat asymmetrical main hall with the seats distributed in not-quite random mega-boxes. It would have intrigued Eric the architect. The effect is equal parts aural and visual. It proved a provocative venue for a provocative all-Shostakovich program. The thunderous finale of his Symphony #5 sounded right at home there.
In Brussels , the next night Scott and I heard the Belgian National Orchestra led by Walter Weller play Strauss' Don Juan in the Palais des Beaux Arts – a hall as romantic as the Don himself. It's a classic hall plunked down amongst the many palaces, museums and government buildings atop the city's main hill. It's almost possible to miss it amidst all of the grandeur in that part of town. Coincidentally, Scott, Audrey and I heard the Cleveland Orchestra play Don Juan in August and the violin soloist that night was also there in Brussels , Julia Fischer. She played the Brahms concerto in Brussels which I'd never stopped to realize is as “upside-down” as it is, with its slow-fast-slow structure and virtuosic cadenza coming at the very end rather than in the first movement.
The Rudolfinum complex in Prague was special if for no other reason than to hear Dvorak played in Dvorak Hall. Val's and my birds-eye view of conductor Gianandrea Noseda (who led the touring BBC Philharmonic) and violin soloist Jaroslav Sviceny was as different as the conductor's approach. Seated above and to his side, we got a good look at Noseda at work: a man who conducts as much with his face as he does with his baton-less hands.
Speaking of Dvorak, a final note about him and his homeland. As I've noted in an earlier essay, I love the Czech Republic . And driving through the Bohemian countryside was an experience enhanced by a Slovanic Dance or three on the car's CD player. Dvorak's collection of folk-inspired tunes sure made the time and scenery go by more pleasantly. By the time we were done driving from Prague to Munich , I had subjected Val, Eric and Dave to all three discs I'd bought at the Dvorak Museum . Through the New World Symphony and all of the Slovanic Dances to the Carnival Overture (and Smetana's My Homeland to boot), my String Cheese and Deadhead pals were all good sports.
We learned just 10 minutes into our four-day car trip, that while music may not always soothe the savage beast (in this case a highway cop out to make his quota), at least Bohemian folk music helps make Czech traffic tickets a little easier to take. I mean, what's 500 Koruny among friends? Pay the fine, drive on and turn up the Symphonic Variations. Such is how we “conducted” ourselves on our Beer-thoven tour of Europe . Bravo!