I had already heard the duo pianists in earlier musical excursions, but never had they sounded better than in this latest, perhaps because Ambassador Jess, an avid connoisseur and a pianist himself, was giving them added inspiration and impetus.
Brahms transformed his first major symphony into the Concerto No. 1 in D Minor, a most challenging composition and Reyes, serving as annotator, pointed to the "thunder and lightning" in the opening maestoso which forthwith he admirably depicted, the "bombardment" continuing for quite a while.
In several passages, Reyes bore the heavier budden, as his own score substituted for the many orchestral instruments. To be sure, soloist Santamaria demonstrated intensity and brio, the stormy, contrapuntal dialogue ensuing, with chordal passages being exchanged.
The fury subsided, giving way to the thoroughly contrasting adagio – a prayerful, reverential requiem. The finale again vibrant, robust and spirited, was a fiery ending.
Liszt’s Concerto in E Flat Major followed, one movement dovetailing into the next.
Considerable excitement was generated by the exchange of fire with fire, so to speak, in the maestoso and the final rondo. Vigor, power, fluency and passion characterized the rendition by both pianists who seemed to breathe as one as they struck the chords simultaneously in split-second timing. Liszt’s bombastic concerto was certainly given its due. Here, sparks flew in movement after movement (except for a brief respite in the lyrical adagio) stunning the audience.
It might be noted that the impact and aural experience produced by two pianos in a concerto are entirely different from those derived from a piano assisted by an orchestra. In the Santamaria-Reyes interaction, the solo piano was answered by the second piano and vice-versa; cadenzas appeared to follow one after another.
Further, the tonalities were identical, with only the notes differing.
To the evening’s urgent clamor for an encore, the duo responded with the third movement, a scherzo, of Rachmaninoff’s second concerto with its exquisitely lyrical melody now arranged as the popular hit song Full Moon and Empty Arms. The pianos alternately played the melody after the abrupt opening movement, the cadenza breathing ardor, the work ending in a crashing crescendo.
In his remarks, Mr. Jess confessed to the audience that he literally held his breath while he listened to Brahms. "It was breath-taking," he commented, concluding, as he referred to "two viruosi" playing the concertos and the encore, "Tonight’s event will long be remembered."
The relatively new Manila Philharmonic Orchestra, an all-Filipino ensemble, is owned and managed by artists, and supported by private companies. Its highly trained musicians have given eminently successful concerts under young conductor Rodel Colmenar.
The other week at the Philamlife theater, the MPC performed in a program that opened with Redentor Romero’s Philippine Portraits this consisting of primitive (Igorot and Muslim) and folk music.
The real test for orchestra and conductor came with De Falla’s Three-Cornered Hat and Lalo’s Symphony Espagnole, with Romanian violinist Alexandru Tomescu as featured soloist.
As is characteristic of De Falla’s meticulously written pieces, the Three-Cornered Hat is based on Spanish folk dances. The work was commissioned by Serge Diaghilev of the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo, and the rhythmic vigor and vibrancy of the ballet suite, particularly of The Miller’s Dance – then performed by the legendary danseur Leonid Massine – stands out.
Here, one noted Colmenar’s crisp, clear phrasing and steady, well-sustained beat which increasingly gained in momentum. And with his magnificent control of dynamics, orchestral volume gradually became so intense, it created a frenzied, electrifying climax.
The over-all rendition captured the spirit and animation, the flavor and character of Spain in its evocativeness.
Lalo’s Symphony Espagnole for Violin and Orchestra was written for the towering Spanish virtuoso Pablo Sarasate; I dare say it could well have been composed for the young virtuoso Alexandru Tomescu who, from the first to the last bars, proved himself a master of his instrument.
A phenomenal command immediately manifested itself in the main theme of the allegro non troppo, through the sparkling scherzando, the charming, vivacious, colorful intermezzo: allegretto non troppo, and the final virtuosic rondo.
Tomescu’s tones, polished and refined, were luminous, deep and resonant. His playing was always informed with sensitivity and artistry. Technical demands were met with astounding facility: the agile finger work of the left hand, the vigorous thrust or controlled bowing of the right, its end notes long, flowing, diminishing.
The orchestra was warmly responsive; the strings were lush and homogeneous; the woodwinds and brasses, secure; the spirit was ardent.
Tomescu had so mesmerized the audience, it gave him a thunderous ovation. As generous as he was gracious, he played Ysaye’s Sonata No. 2 Les Furies and Kreisler’s Recitativo and Scherzo Capriccio, both daunting masterpieces for unaccompanied violin. Again, Tomescu was the impeccably brilliant virtuoso.