It is curious

to me that the symphonies of Carl Nielsen remain mostly specialty works in America. When we do hear them, it’s usually under a Scandinavian conductor or visiting orchestra and, indeed, the last time the National Symphony Orchestra did the Nielsen Fourth (2011) it was under Thomas Dausgaard. But these works are, in the best sense, universal; even more so than those of Nielsen’s near-contemporary Sibelius, who gets much more airplay over here.  

​Nielsen’s music speaks to the human condition of restlessness and yearning for the unreachable; it evokes innocence, grandeur, anxiety, rustic simplicity, and foreboding while seeming to peer into other, unseen dimensions. The smaller-than-usual audience last night at the Kennedy Center was treated to a good performance of the work under guest conductor Edward Gardner (British, but music director of the Bergen Philharmonic), who clearly knows and loves the score. The NSO was on its toes, the thorny string-writing causing everyone to sit up and try hard. Gardner is not an authoritarian and is comfortable in himself, feeling no need to “put his stamp” on the music. His gestures were sparing but very precise, and he exuded a feeling of trust and collaboration with the musicians. Unfortunately, this also meant he didn’t work hard enough to tame the usual suspects (NSO brass and timpani) and, as so often happens at these concerts, vast swaths of important string music were lost in the maelstrom.  

​The famous duel for two timpani players in the Nielsen finale was only the most egregious example; Gardner also allowed the NSO winds to cover much of the fine playing of guest cellist Nicolas Altstaedt in the Dvořák Concerto. Altstaedt, making his NSO debut, is something of a polymath, who also conducts, runs several music festivals, has done significant work as a baroque cellist, and frequently premieres brand-new works. I was curious how his thoroughly modern mind would handle this sacred monument, and the results were a little inconclusive. Altstaedt can produce a lovely, buttery sound, and his fingers can certainly fly. His bow-arm is particularly impressive, cutting perfect right-angles to the strings at any speed. But he gives an aura of a Young Man In A Hurry. The virtuoso passagework in the finale went by so fast that it lacked articulation or character (though had Gardner held the orchestra down more, we might’ve gotten a different impression). The soloist’s first entrance in the piece is marked Quasi improvisando, but Altstaedt marched briskly through it in strict time. He can draw silky, pleasing legato lines, but too many of his expressive slides seemed to come from vicissitudes of fingering rather than from the stress points in the melodies themselves. All-in-all, an artist worth listening to again; I’d be willing to bet his interpretations change often.

​The concert opened with Grieg’s Lyric Suite, a trifle that, given the difficulty and unfamiliarity of the Nielsen, had only time for a brief run-through that morning. The Nocturne presages Debussy, but otherwise the work was badly overshadowed by the works that followed.  

Top photo: Edward Gardner, by Frances Marshall, Final Note Magazine.