In Vienna, trip's final bows

VIENNA, Austria - At every turn, the gods of music haunt Vienna's hallowed Musikverein concert hall. But the Philadelphia Orchestra had little to fear from comparisons to great orchestras past or present in the climactic concerts of its European tour, played Friday and last night.

The more dangerous of the two Vienna programs - Bruckner and Schoenberg, Austrian composers who helped make this great musical capital what it is - was received with unanimous warmth Friday. Last night's Sibelius and Prokofiev inspired extremes: vociferous adulation as well as unspoken dismissal from some listeners who streamed toward the exits at the final notes.

The American charge d'affaires in Vienna, Scott Kilner, put it most plainly yesterday morning at a reception where the orchestra's Wister Quartet played for an audience packed with the local intelligentsia. Performing here, Kilner said, is "an act of courage" because of Vienna's sophisticated, opinionated citizenry and its past as home to some of the greatest composers ever.

The key factor in both Viennese responses to the orchestra was the venue: The Musikverein's acoustics enshrine any performance without ambiguity, while the close proximity of musicians and audience further intensifies the experience - particularly when the house is full, as it was for these two concerts.

At Friday's preconcert rehearsal, conductor Christoph Eschenbach pointed out that the piece the orchestra was about to perform, Bruckner's Symphony No. 6, had its premiere on that very stage - "conducted by a certain Gustav Mahler. What these beams of wood have heard!"

Any classical-music lover has seen photos of history's great composers and performers on that venerable stage; now suddenly, as if by a leap through the looking glass, the 2009 Philadelphia Orchestra was inhabiting the same space.

Eschenbach, who has performed here since his concert-pianist days, walked the younger orchestra members through acoustical matters.

His first directions were to the strings: Don't be afraid to play the Philadelphia sound full-out, but also don't be afraid that pianissimos will die into nothing. "They have an aura," he said. "The players notice immediately."

Next, he spoke to the brass: The Musikverein is so reverberant, so sensitive, that blasting is out. Eschenbach had three words for the tone he wanted: "Round, round, round."

The orchestra was visibly excited. Concertmaster David Kim looked as if he might weep; assistant conductor Danail Rachev admitted he was beside himself just being in the building. Cellist Richard Harlow, a great Bruckner admirer, had already visited the Augustinerkirche, where the composer wrote his Mass No. 3. Was he spooked about performing Bruckner so close to the source? "I'll think about that after," he said.

Another matter worth thinking about later was the Musikverein's choice to have Eschenbach conduct the Philadelphians in the same Bruckner symphony he had performed with the Vienna Philharmonic - considered the Bruckner oracle - only months before.

Hardly intimidated, even with a huge portrait of early-20th-century Viennese opera legend Selma Kurz looming over him in his dressing room, Eschenbach said he couldn't help but be inspired, and celebrated with special cookies sent to him by friends in Aachen, Germany.

"Would you like one?" he asked. It was chocolate on the outside, heaven on the inside.

At concert time, the Schoenberg Chamber Symphony went extremely well; more significant, the audience seemed to understand the ultra-dense piece in ways few others would.

The Bruckner Sixth had gone a bit better a few nights earlier in Luxembourg; here, the first movement evidenced what might be called race-horse nerves - not the sort that hold musicians back, but rather the kind that keep them pushing forward instead of settling into the piece (something that also comes with overcompensating for fatigue).

Much of what made the Luxembourg performance distinctive - a musical arc that maintained itself despite great shifts in volume and manner - wasn't as apparent in Vienna. Still, the performance was superior to Eschenbach's Bruckner Sixth with the Vienna Philharmonic (to judge from the radio broadcast I've heard). The Philadelphians had more energy behind their playing, and their sound was more imposing. The pianissimos Eschenbach had talked about in rehearsal glowed as never before.

The Viennese audience showed great sympathy, with long, loud and steady applause - enough for the conductor to take five bows, each time to whoops and cheers.

The Bruckner and Schoenberg pieces aren't the sort that trap a lot of clap; they're inward experiences. But there was nothing inward about last night's Sibelius Violin Concerto as played by Leonidas Kavakos, or Prokofiev's alternately witty and grandiose Symphony No. 5. In the concerto, Kavakos, Eschenbach, and the orchestra projected a rare, edge-of-the-seat frisson. The Prokofiev symphony was a vehicle for the orchestra to display all its sonic riches, which it did with what might have been exhausting intensity.

Perhaps it was that, plus the unusually long program - 21/2 hours - that led to some early departures. Or maybe it was the Musikverein's check-all-coats policy. Whatever, those who remained stood and applauded.

The end of the tour was celebrated not on its final night (when check-in bags had to be organized by midnight) but after the concert Friday, when all manner of pent-up tension from the last three weeks came out during an often-uproarious group dinner at the Intercontinental Hotel. Bassist Henry Scott, who had fainted during a Bruckner Sixth performance in the Canary Islands on the tour, commended his colleagues for finishing the symphony without doing the same.

Eschenbach spoke last, saying that though he was no longer the orchestra's music director, he continued to feel a great sense of responsibility: "And that's because I love you."

He was met with an ovation that seemed even longer, louder, and steadier than the one after the Bruckner Sixth.