JAVIER PERIANES AND CHLOÉ VAN SOETERSTÉDE INSPIRE IN ROMANTIC GALLIC FARE
Javier Perianes (piano), Vancouver Symphony Orchestra/ Chloé van Soeterstède (conductor): Music of Pépin, Saint-Saëns and Franck, Orpheum, February 14, 2025.
Brilliant Spanish pianist Javier Perianes gave an illuminating recital of Granados’ Goyescas just last year, and he now returns for a performance of Saint-Saëns ‘Egyptian’ concerto with the VSO and young Parisian conductor Chloé van Soeterstède. The pianist gave a scintillating reading of a concerto that is often difficult to negotiate, full of colour and bravura, and very thoughtful too. Soeterstède added a performance of the familiar, but now rarely-heard, Symphony in D of César Franck which had admirable cumulative strength and involvement, as well as a nicely cultivated Gallic feel.
Saint-Saëns is widely appreciated as composer and, indeed, a polymath these days. But that was certainly not true when I was very young. After alighting on a rare recording of the composer’s Piano Concerto No. 5 ‘Egyptian’, I recall my father asking me when I was going to start listening to ‘real’ music: the 5th was indeed regarded as the most questionable of all his five piano concertos. As we have learned over the years, one cannot play this concerto in a literal way without having it sound trite, nor can one simply proceed with raw energy: rather, the artist must revel in its charm and sparkle and set its exotic second movement innovations in a context where they genuinely seem communicative. Sir Stephen Hough did this magnificently in his famous Hyperion recording that just bubbles forth in frothy delight from the first bar and achieves a lovely childlike innocence in the experimental slow movement. Intimacy was the keynote. Which makes Perianes’ current performance very interesting! It was a bigger and stronger interpretation, more public in some ways, often full of energy – yet the work came off successfully in quite a different way.
Certainly, there was some of the characteristic frolic in the opening part of this performance but it was the tonal beauty and sculpted elegance of the pianist’s playing that established itself overall, and made the work seem structurally more expansive. While there was less sense of caprice, there was still tremendous colour and contrast in the playing, with moments of great delicacy playing off the more ardent responses, and scintillating runs up and down the keyboard. The big bravura passages later on in the movement seemed to flow out naturally from this conception, and were done splendidly with great spirit. The secret to the slow movement was its stillness and sense of mystery. While possibly unintended, the pianist’s slightly Spanish inflections in the Egyptian ‘innovations’ seemed to summon some Andalusian spirits of the night, sometimes threatening and very real. Effective indeed, since it brought a depth to the proceedings and sharpened the contrast with the lighthearted finale. The finale literally carried itself, so poised and coherent was Perianes’ interpretative line.
Overall, it was exciting to hear a performance with this type of strength and certainty of line. While not really a French interpretation from a pianistic standpoint (compare, say, Chamayou), van Soeterstède and the orchestra certainly illuminated the Gallic breeziness and insouciance in the writing, and they did so in a way that seemed to mesh well with the pianist’s magnetic response.
César Franck’s Symphony in D (1888) has just about the opposite history to the Saint-Saëns: played to death by orchestras when I was young but falling out of favour thereafter. I cannot remember a VSO performance of the work in at least three decades. Part of the work’s early popularity stemmed from its beguiling ‘big tune’ of the finale, which was put to endless uses in more popular music. However, many critics have long seen the symphony as a rather bloated and pompous remnant of the Wagnerian tradition. My father often referred to ‘wallowing’ in the Franck symphony, but he had to accept it as real music, since Sir Thomas Beecham played it, and he adored Beecham.
Chloé van Soeterstède clearly loves the work, and the virtues of her interpretation were that it was lean and tightly knit, responsive to detail and displayed conviction throughout. The opening Lento was nicely suspended and showed evident feeling, while the Allegro moved forward with sharp dramatic lines and thrust. But there was also tenderness: she paid strong attention to the shadings of the woodwinds in the contemplative interludes, and this section of the orchestra was very communicative throughout. In fact, this was some of the most sensitive wind playing I have heard from the orchestra in recent years – and it sounded Gallic too. Even the brass had a bright French sassiness to them, especially the trumpets. I found the treatment idiomatic, and the movement as a whole achieved coherence, intensity and emotional reach.
The touching Allegretto processional with cor anglais and harp also found the right tempo and sensitivity; the horn theme was beautifully rendered as well. The movement proceeded fluidly and it was perhaps only in the more active sections later in the movement that the conductor’s line marginally faltered. The Finale with its ‘big tune’ came off well, possibly because it focused more on expositing Franck’s ‘cyclical’ form (where themes of the previous movements appear again) than on the famous tune. The conductor maintained the same dramatic awareness as in the opening movement while nicely holding together the finale’s diverse parts. The movement built with excitement and ended with all the thrusting glory that it should have. I had forgotten how enjoyable this symphony could be!
This was an excellent Vancouver debut for Chloé van Soeterstède. She displayed admirable orchestral control, a sense of line and purpose, an eye for detail and style and, I think, a musical intelligence that distinguishes her from her cohort. It also intrigued me how she set up the orchestra, with split violins and both cellos and double-basses on the left. I can fully understand why the Bournemouth Symphony was excited to appoint her as Principal Guest Conductor a few years ago. I would also like to hear her in repertoire other than French.
I might mention that the only slight letdown at this concert was the opening contemporary piece Laniakea (2019) by Camille Pépin, which I can take or leave. It aims to depict ‘galaxies in motion’, but that remained elusive. While the piece has a few interesting moments, it remains a rather strange mix of Glassian rhythms with Respighi-like colour and splendour. It seemed to outstay its welcome. Nonetheless, the fact that the rhythms blossom out to full dance floor sequences in the middle of the piece may make it attractive to newcomers to contemporary classical music.
© Geoffrey Newman 2025
Photos courtesy of Vancouver Symphony Orchestra