Kirill Petrenko. Not exactly
a household name, I know, but it soon will be among music lovers everywhere. Petrenko is the new Chief Conductor of
the Berliner Philharmoniker (Berlin Symphony Orchestra), considered by many to
be the world’s finest symphony orchestra. (I’m so happy to live here!)
My first
introduction to Petrenko came via a poster in the U-bahn announcing a free open
air concert by the Berlin Symphony playing Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony under the direction of Kirill Petrenko at
Brandenburg Gate at 8 pm on Saturday, August 24th.
Although
I had never heard of Petrenko, I was very familiar with Beethoven’s Ninth (who isn’t?) and I was eager to
go. But admission to the concert was at
6 pm and attendance was limited to the first 20,000 people. Worse, last
Saturday was a very warm day in Berlin, close to 90 degrees and still quite
warm by early evening. So we reluctantly
decided to opt out of standing around for two hours on hot asphalt and chose
instead to live-stream the concert at home.
What we lost in person we gained in comfort, acoustics, and visibility.
It was a perfect
evening, warm, clear rose-tinted skies framing a dramatically lit open-air stage
with the monumental Brandenburg Gate as its backdrop and a sea of transfixed music lovers
as far as the eye could see. Petrenko, a
slight, impish man, took the stage, nodded curtly to the crowd, grinned broadly
at the orchestra, and raised his baton.
Then all beauty broke loose!
The concert
was very emotional, uplifting, and joyful.
They don’t call the final movement of Beethoven's Ninth the Ode to Joy for nothing. As
the camera panned the faces of the crowd, you could see that each listener was rapt
and enraptured. As the music flowed, my
eyes filled with tears and I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the perfect communication
between Beethoven and Petrenko, between Petrenko and his orchestra, and between
the orchestra and its audience. This was
no game of telephone where each retelling loses something of the original. This was an uninterrupted, unadulterated flow
of what is perhaps the most abstract of all the art forms—music—from the
creator to the listener, perfectly mediated.
And then
there was Petrenko himself. He’s a
mysterious, mischievous little elf of a man who draws magic, not just music,
out of his orchestra. He feels the music. His body paints
the music. His face tells the music. It’s a rare
and wonderful thing to behold a person who is so completely at one with his
work. There is no separation between him
and the score. He is the score. And the
orchestra knows it and responds to it in full measure. At times it seemed that their mutual confidence
was so strong that Petrenko didn’t conduct the orchestra so much as let it find
its own way. At the end of the second
movement, for example, Petrenko “gave the baton” to the orchestra, letting it
fall still at his side. He leaned forward directly
into the strings and the woodwinds and he just let them play. It seemed so risky, but it was requited love
and the mutual trust and respect showed in the performance.
The bond
between conductor and orchestra is uniquely strong in Berlin. Ours is a self-governing orchestra and the
only one that selects its own maestro. When
Petrenko was chosen in 2015, after Simon Rattle announced he would not renew
his contract after its expiry in 2018, Petrenko had played with the orchestra
just three times, but they were wowed.
So was Petrenko, saying in a statement published on the symphony’s
website
Words
cannot express my feelings – everything from euphoria and great joy to awe and
disbelief. I am aware of the responsibility and high expectations of me, and I
will do everything in my power to be a worthy conductor of this outstanding
orchestra. Above all, however, I hope for many moments of artistic happiness in
our music-making together which will reward our hard work and fill our lives as
artists with meaning.
A musician’s
musician, not a showman; rather, a fellow artist. Here’s
a video link to what his fellow artists at the Berliner Philharmoniker say about
their choice:
There’s not
much yet written about Petrenko. His Wiki bio is slim and he avoids
interviews like the plague. He was born
on February 11, 1972 in Omsk, Siberia to a violinist father and musicologist
mother. He studied piano there and
debuted as a pianist at age 11. When he
was 18, his family, Russian Jews, emigrated to Austria where he continued his
musical studies, eventually embarking on a career in conducting. He is currently the General Music Director of
the Bavarian State Opera in Munich through the 2020-2021 season, although he
will now appear only as a guest conductor, given that his tenure in Berlin
commenced on August 19, 2019. (Quite a birthday present to me!) This
appointment is Petrenko's first to a chief conductorship of a symphony
orchestra not affiliated with an opera company.
Petrenko is
notoriously shy and eschews self-promotion.
He’s more interested in the music. As the Guardian
put it:
What’s
obvious for anyone who has seen him live is the incandescent intensity he
brings to his performances. Unlike the more obvious stars among today’s
youngish maestros, Petrenko’s depth of feeling seems connected to a searching
musical intelligence, as well as an unmistakable sense of personal connection
with the works he programmes.
Where
Rattle brought a musical and social revolution to Berlin, transforming the
orchestra’s repertoire and its relationship with its audiences and the diverse
communities of the city, thanks to the continuing projects he established, Petrenko
will bring something apparently simpler, but no less potentially profound: an
absolute focus on the music he is conducting, and a desire to make every
concert scale the heights of musical and expressive experience. If that’s
enough for a chief conductor in today’s world – or the world of 2018 – remains
to be seen. But in choosing Petrenko, the Berlin players are defiantly, boldly,
and rightly, putting the music first.
It’s safe
to say, then, that the people who know him best are the musicians with whom he
works. Here is what some of them have to
say about Petrenko, per the New York Times:
“He
is such a winning person, but so shy,” said Nikolaus Bachler, the general manager
of the Bavarian State Opera in Munich, who gave Mr. Petrenko his first job more
than two decades ago, at the Vienna Volksoper. When the State Opera, where Mr.
Petrenko is finishing an acclaimed period as music director, wanted a portrait
of him, it went with a video installation that showed only his hands,
conducting Wagner’s “Götterdämmerung.”
Behind
the scenes, musicians adore working with him — the star tenor Jonas Kaufmann
said there was nobody more reassuring in the pit when something went awry — but
few seem to know him well.
“I
once forced him to drink a beer with me,” Mr. Kaufmann said. When Mr. Petrenko
wanted to chat one night about an upcoming project, Mr. Kaufmann suggested a
beer across the street after the performance.
“He
came, he ordered a teeny-weeny beer, and then he talked,” Mr. Kaufmann
recalled. “He had maybe 10 minutes to talk, and didn’t touch the beer. Then he
took the beer, drank it in one” — Mr. Kaufmann mimed a swig — “and said, ‘O.K.,
have a nice evening.’”
I don’t
know about you, but I find this refreshing and totally endearing.
Even rehearsals with Petrenko can be inspiring. Here’s what
a member of the Berliner Philharmoniker said about rehearsing the Ninth with Petrenko, per the New York Times:
At
the first rehearsal for Beethoven’s Ninth, Mr. Petrenko made a proposal: If the
players observed all the dynamic markings in their scores, they would be able
to delve more deeply into other areas.
“He
said, ‘Please, if we can just do this, then we can talk about the things that
aren’t on the page,’” said Matthew Hunter, a violist. “Those are the things we
really want to talk about.”
Mr.
Petrenko moved easily between the details of the score and discussions of
Beethoven and Kant, ideas of the infinite, and Mr. Petrenko’s belief that the
symphony reflected not only the positive aspects of humanity — it is, of
course, famous for the “Ode to Joy” — but the negative, too. He described a
pause in its final movement as a moment of silence for the dead, the fallen,
the murdered. And he took special care to make sure the chorus could be heard
when it sang “stürzt nieder” (“fall down”).
“If
I counted the number of times I’ve played the Ninth, is it 99 times?” Mr.
Hunter said. “How many times can you shed a tear? I found new tears.”
And so did
I, and it felt so good to feel so happy about something so beautiful. For a change.
Thank you, Beethoven. Thank you,
Maestro Petrenko. Thank you, Berliner
Philharmoniker.
If you'd like to listen to the concert, copy and paste the link below into your browser.
If you'd like to listen to the concert, copy and paste the link below into your browser.
https://www.rbb-online.de/fernsehen/beitrag/berliner-philharmoniker-open-air-2019.html
Keep it
real!
Marilyn









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