RICHARD DOVE loves a sonic celebration of ‘Czechness’

Snesi bych ti modre z nebe – I will bring you the blue from the sky.  This Czech saying was writ large for the two nights the Czech Philharmonic, led by conductor Jakub Hrůša, took over the Proms.  This was music and performance from the depths of the soul – the effort clearly in evidence as the conductor wiped sweat from his brow and dried his glasses.  The performances were visceral, pure, undiluted Czech identity.

Dvorak’s Cello Concerto opened these strident proceedings, with soloist Anastasia Kobekina delivering both passion and power.  It is difficult to comprehend why, initially, Dvorak considered the cello insufficient for a solo concerto, having considered the upper registers of the instrument too nasal and the lower register as a mumble. This work confounds both views, having been described by some as the greatest cello concerto. Kobekina’s playing exuded the gentleness of a breath and the crack of a crescendo. 

The Symphony in C Minor (‘Asrael’) by Dvorak’s protégé and son-in-law, Josef Suk, saw the Czech Philharmonic at its passionate best with this highly emotional work.  It was composed after his mentor’s death and the death at 27 of Suk’s wife, who was Dvorak’s daughter – a veritable dance with death.  Like the poems of ecstasy by Zemlinsky and Scriabin, this intense, thickly-textured work is not played nearly enough. This music is almost a distillation of Czech identity, where life is arduous but the spirit can still soar. The reception was thunderous and enduring. We had all danced with death and triumphed. 

The second night was devoted to Jancek and Dvorak and a premier performance of Vítězslava Kaprálová’s Military Sinfonietta. Kaprálová’s story is another tragedy – a brilliant student who died in 1940, aged just 25. This is a work that seems to define the triumph and desolation of war. It is no hymn to glorious victory but combines cries of despair and the rhythmic roar of a battalion advancing.

The fiendishly difficult Dvorak Piano Concerto in G minor provided the opportunity to view the intense technical and subtle skills of rising Japanese star Mao Fujita. When not playing, Fujita turned towards the orchestra embracing this complete work. He nodded, smiled and then focused, head down at the keyboard – a soloist not apart but integral to the work, the sound and the orchestra. There were quite a few Japanese people in the audience to appreciate their new star, as we did. His fluid playing defied belief on occasions. Was that really one piano and two hands? The cheers and applause was sustained and heartfelt.  We had witnessed something very special and unique. Conductor Hrůša seemed to merge with the orchestra with his intense gestures and visual cues. This was not conducting, but living and breathing the music.

The evening closed with the gigantic Glagolitic Mass by Leoš Janáček. The orchestra was joined by the Prague Philharmonic Choir and soloists soprano Corinne Winters and mezzo soprano Bella Adamova, along with tenor David Butt Philip and bass Brindley Sherratt. As the orchestra and choir took up their places we steeled ourselves for a beautiful onslaught. The Archbishop of Olomouc had suggested to Janáček a Mass in Old Church Slavonic (which uses the Glagolitic alphabet). The final version of the work was completed in 1928, with the addition of a gargantuan organ solo. The idea appealed to the composer’s pan-Slavism; he saw the ancient language as the ancient wellspring of Czech culture. The orchestra played as if they embodied that culture and those traditions. The silvery strings and ‘Central European’ brass achieved an authentic Middle European sound in this extraordinary, atavistic work.  Again, the thought occurs that the Czech Philharmonic was, before us, curating their heritage in this modern sound with ancient roots.  We roared at the end and almost refused to let the performers leave the stage.  In the slightly revised words of Czech playwright Tom Stoppard: “Notes are sacred.  They deserve respect.  If you get the right ones in the right order, you can nudge the world a little.”  As we headed home, our worlds had all been nudged, not a little but a lot.