The Orchester Métropolitain reunited with Nicolas Ellis this week. It was a great happiness, because his 5th Symphony by Shostakovich in the second half of the concert exceeded the wildest expectations.
Shortly before the concert, my neighbor told me that it would be his first Fifth of Shostakovich “in real life”. Let’s bet that he will never forget it and that he will have to wait years, years, and more years before reliving such a moment.
Two things characterize a great conductor, even a young one: the maturity of his ideas and interpretative choices, and the ability to lead a group to give their maximum, or even more, in the realization of said choices. Nicolas Ellis ticks those boxes to a point that never ceases to impress.
Relevance at all levels
The 32-year-old chef has 5th Symphony of Shostakovich a vision not wildly dramatic but heavy. Heavy on the shoulders of Shostakovich who sometimes no longer seems able to extricate himself from an ideological yoke (1st movement). The desolation of the 3rd movement is never tearful (vibrato present, but dosed sparingly). It appears like a great dry moor where the life, the creativity of the artist, is annihilated.
The relevance of Nicolas Ellis’ interpretative options is absolute down to the smallest detail, such as the infinitesimal dosage of the violin tremolos under the harp at the end of the slow movement. The same goes for, as we have said, the dosage of vibrato, but also the tempos, the accents, the gradations (1st movement, so hard to balance), the very rapid sequence of themes in the 2nd movement, the breadth of the end of this 2nd movement, the metallic hardness of such a xylophone or timpani intervention, the frenzy in the cascade so complex to master successive accelerandos from the beginning of the Final…
The deep emotion felt was at the same time sensory, intellectual and cultural. What a tour de force from the conductor, given a standing ovation by the musicians themselves. What a contrast, too, with the neither-done-nor-to-do concert last week! The OM decision-makers will have had this acute problem exposed in a more than brilliant way in quick succession: no orchestra can afford such a random yo-yo in terms of the musical performance of its concerts.
The alliance challenge
In the first part, Nicolas Ellis introduced us to a charming suite by Germaine Tailleferre, an excellent musical appetizer. Each time we listen to Tailleferre, we are positively delighted, whereas for 50 years we have not skimped on playing or recording Jacques Ibert or Jean Françaix which, in our opinion, have not left things so imperishable or convincing.
In flaccid Theremin Concerto last week was followed by the creation (at least the second presentation) of a Double concerto for cello and harp by Denis Gougeon. You can trust Gougeon to keep his feet on the ground and not venture into esotericism. The double problem with which he is confronted here is: how do we make the harp and the cello converse, and how does this tandem dialogue with the orchestra? In practice, it starts impressively, except in the context of a concerto. The orchestra flies with its ardent wings and the solo instruments neither dialogue nor float. For them to exist, Gougeon provides them with “sound clearings” where the cello dominates. Gradually, things become more refined when the soloists take the initiative of a speech that the orchestra comes to color or comment on (last third).
Gougeon’s concerto is pleasant, but not memorable: it does not convince us that cello and harp form a natural alliance, but even more, we are not sure that the large orchestra is the ideal partner for this duo. We would have seen much more an ensemble of the I Musici or Violons du Roy type, which would have allowed a more natural dialogue in terms of volume. In any case the composer could not have dreamed of better defenders than Stéphane Tétreault and Valérie Milot, fair and very invested.