Review: Yannick and his other band draw raves

NEW YORK - Ever loyal, Yannick Nézet-Séguin maintains what looks like an undying commitment to the Rotterdam Philharmonic Orchestra, whose 2006 appointment consolidated his international career. Now, as he moves among A-list orchestras (including one in Philadelphia), why does he stay with a second-tier Dutch ensemble?

Answers have been abundant during his U.S. tour with the Rotterdam orchestra, which ended Sunday as part of Lincoln Center's Great Performers series. Due to weather-delayed flights from Chicago, some players arrived only minutes before concert time, but still played at a level that showed why the tour has won off-the-charts reviews. In fact, the rock-star reception Sunday was beyond any other I've witnessed for Nézet-Séguin.

The Tchaikovsky Symphony No. 5, which he conducted with the Philadelphia Orchestra in recent weeks, offered revealing comparisons. Nézet-Séguin has always prided himself on collaborating with an orchestra's preexisting personality, but Rotterdam hasn't had much of one, so although his recordings with it aren't always wonderful, they often reveal great interpretive originality.

 Though all sections seemed solid Sunday, Rotterdam's sound is less homogeneous than Philadelphia's, less string-based, better lending itself to fine shades of expression. Many phrases had a song-without-words sense of detail. Little rubatos contrasted with the music's innate momentum, hinting at underlying hesitation amid surging lyricism. Rubatos weren't so little in later movements, suggesting the sort of slow-motion ocean waves that were a hallmark of the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra in its excitable post-World War II years.

Tempos that seemed rushed and emotionally shallow in Philadelphia had far greater incident in the final movement, if only because so many different kinds of sounds were popping out, both in counterpoint and in competition.

 Nicholas Angelich played Brahms' Piano Concerto No. 1 in a more rigorous performance than his ultra-contemplative Philadelphia outing in 2009. You don't need to know that he doesn't own a cellphone and that he kisses (rather than shakes) the hand of concertmistresses to see that he's a pianist not of his time. His free, flexible tempos and personal, highly differentiated manner with every phrase are quite 19th century. He goes for maximum expression all the time, but somehow never paints himself into a corner, always leaving room for building climaxes.

Even the coordination problems that arose from his flexible tempi yielded an exciting dynamic tension. Wolfgang Sawallisch once recounted a collaboration with Walter Gieseking, in which the legendary pianist asked whether he could race ahead of the orchestra, guaranteeing that the audience would be thrilled. And he was right. Though I can't imagine that Angelich is so calculating, similar tension created a very happy uproar.