London Symphony Orchestra – Barbican - 27 September 2007

My current explorations into the world of classical music were partly inspired by my trip to the Barbican some time ago to see the Icelandic production of Peer Gynt when I was taken by the excitement of the audience heading into the Barbican Hall to see a solo piano rectital by Evgeny Kissin (see http://robingrebsonsguidefortheperplexed.blogspot.com/2007/06/maurizio-pollini-barbican.html). I researched Kissin and was rather taken by his extravagant bouffant, and clear signs of crazed genius. At two he was playing by ear, by 12 he was performing Chopin’s Piano Concertos in the Great Hall of the Moscow Conservatory with the Moscow State Philharmonic. Oh and did I mention his hair?






Kissin wasn’t lined up for any more solo recitals, so I booked this concert instead.

It was a game of two halves.

The first half featured Kissin with the LSO (conducted by Sir Colin Davis) performing Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No 3. I have to say, I was blown away. It did something to me, the way only music can – my brain seemed to expand beyond the confines of my skull. The music took me somewhere physically and mentally. I felt very trippy. It was achingly, almost unbearably, wonderful.

In the second half, piano, Kissin and hair were gone, and we had the LSO performing Beethoven’s Symphony No 3 (‘Eroica’). I didn’t really enjoy it. I missed the contrast of the piano with the strings, and the lack of a soloist gave me nothing to focus on. I was missin’ Kissin. Whereas in the first half there seemed to be an abundance of tunes (for the first time I started to see how pop music has sampled and expanded so many melodies from the classical canon), in the second half there seemed to be no tunes, just stabbing phrases. I couldn’t find a hook to hang my concentration on. And the symphony was very long. The last movement had some drama, but overall I was hanging in a bit there. Sir Colin shook his big grey hair about as best he could, but it didn’t have the follicle excitement of Kissin’s coiffure.

The audience didn’t seem quite as funky as on at that Peer Gynt night: lots of buffers in musty pin stripes; some dressy women, including a few designer-clad Russians, but generally a bit older and uninteresting.

As Meatloaf put it, you took the words right out of my mouth; must have been when I was Kissin you.