Czech Dances
I recall the last time I heard Jakub Hrusa conduct the Hong Kong Philharmonic and, six years on, the fresh brushstrokes he applied to Mussorgsky's remain a vivid memory. To have him back directing music by two fellow Czech composers promised to be a significant meeting of minds, and the now music director and chief conductor of the Prague Philharmonia didn't disappoint with his account of Dvorak's Symphony No 8.
Hrusa kept our ears on continuous alert during his transformation of the work's familiar melodies and swathes of blunt contrasts.
The orchestra maintained a superbly crafted momentum throughout, marrying a care for fine detail with uninhibited surges in sound. The pervading sense of elasticity was evident from the opening bars, while the second movement's swings between lyricism and grand heroics melted into each other with a rarely heard ease, helped by an astute exploitation of dynamic extremes. The third movement's long phrases were beautifully arched and, in the finale, Hrusa and the players stitched everything together with an intensity that ebbed and flowed, but never evaporated.
In contrast, Janaeek's sounded pedestrian. There was a disappointing lack of engagement and some errant tuning in the violins suggested their heart really wasn't in it.
Dutch violinist Liza Ferschtman was the soloist in Stravinsky's Violin Concerto. She produces a wonderfully rich sound and is technically accomplished, but her concept of the work made little impact.
, the third movement, gives context to the whole piece. Its long, ruminating lines provide the foil for what is heard in the three movements either side, but Ferschtman's rather urgent delivery denied them the space to make such a mark. The opening had its rhythmic spikes dulled by a laid-back tempo and soft-edged articulation while the finale, , tumbled along without finding its infectious bounce.
