It could have been just another nice evening spent listening to the Oxford Philharmonic Orchestra's carefully chosen program of Mozart and Haydn’s works. The OPO was reduced to just around 20 musicians, with the general atmosphere of the evening making us feel as if we were present at one of the chamber concerts in Eszterháza. The evening’s program started with Mozart’s Divertimento in D, K.136 and finished with two symphonies – Haydn’s Symphony No. 22 in E flat major nicknamed ‘The Philosopher’ and Mozart’s Symphony No. 29 in A. Haydn’s Symphony had a very interesting dialogue of two horns and an oboe and a clarinet (originally written by Haydn for French and English horns), while Mozart’s Symphony providing an inspired step between his earlier works and later symphonic masterpieces, with its allegro con spirito final rhythms alerting us to the autumnal beauties of November.
But yesterday’s starry November evening was indeed special as it had another big star appearing on the Oxford musical horizon: internationally acclaimed cellist, Gautier Capuçon, whose 2017/2018 tour season happened to include our beloved Sheldonian. His presence brought the evening to a new level of inspiration and mastery, suddenly opening us vistas into the nuanced and changing emotional layers of Haydn’s Cello Concerto No. 1. Capuçon had a very interesting manner: he seemed to not treat his own performance too seriously, with his attention primarily drawn to his fellow musicians. He observed all of them playing and turned to look at the oboes and horns, as if inviting everyone in this orchestral circle to participate in creation of music with him. Chamber music vibrations started to feel the room, as the OPO concertmaster Carmine Lauri, the conductor Marios Papadopoulos and Capuçon himself exchanged smiles and knowing looks, as if though plotting a musical conspiracy. The cellist continued to be extremely attentive to the first violins throughout the concert and never behaved as a soloist, but as just another chamber musician bringing a beautiful piece of 18th century ensemble music to life.
But it is Capuçon’s treatment of his 1701 Matteo Goffriller cello that spoke thousands of words and sounds to his audience. I would say that the musician treated the instrument as if it was a human being, perhaps even like a lover who needed all his attention, skill and tenderness in order to sing. He also didn't need to look at his cello – the cadenza in the moderato movement, as well as the different melodic lines in adagio were done with the musician’s eyes closed. He only opened them to send a friendly smile to Papadopoulos or Lauri and then tuned in again to the eloquently phrased singing of his cello’s beautiful voice. Not surprisingly, Haydn’s Cello Concerto, a score which was only discovered in the Prague National Museum in 1961, sounded like an intense, brief and inspirational dream. Capuçon had mastered his variations of sound to perfection, ranging from incredibly rich, succulent sounds in adagio to more swift and thrillingly difficult, but carefully delivered and intoned passages in allegro molto. It felt like a revelation of 18th century music’s hidden drama and depth which suddenly sounded so touching, complex and full of careful temperament that it felt like Haydn’s take on modern 21st century realities.
The rest of my evening was spent on looking up Capuçon’s upcoming concerts – and if you missed him in Oxford, I am glad to inform you that you could still listen to his masterful performances in February and March, albeit that would require a trip to London (Royal Festival Hall and Wigmore Hall).