A review of the concert at Tchaikovsky Concert hall on March 2, 2015 (Brahms – David Garrett), Symphony 5 Tchaikovsky – V. T. Spivakov, National Filarmonic Orchestra).
Almost three weeks after the concert my soul has been anchored in Mr. Garret’s passionate and dramatic interpretation of Johannes Brahms concert. Only today, the words came to me, unable to express fully his beautiful and inspiring performance, which left the flaming trace in my heart. I was stunned by his self-possessed, yet passionate interpretaion of Brahms. Most probably It comes from his personal integrity, a clear knowledge of himself, his inner strength, and an unconditional acceptance of the music at spiritual level. He is a force of nature with his subtle intuition, his freedom of performance, his breath, his technique and flexibility of movements.
The nature of the performer, which is beyond the reason and understanding, opens up his feelings, his inner world and intimate intonations of greater intimacy and depth.
I cried all my eyes out in my contact lenses, carried away by his energy and temperament capable of building tension and utmost emotional intensity.
Someone said: ‘A word poisons the thought with inaccuracy.’ Let the exceptional accuracy of performance justify the inaccurate words of mine. There is something from obsession in penetrating performance of David; this is not weakness, but a gift engaging the audience into some mysterious action, an inexplicable union, a mystery which conveys unearthly nature. Remembering Brahms concert, I’ve been tempted to scrutinize the interpretation of Mr. Garrett.
The second part of the concert – Tchaikovskys’ 5th Symphony – sounded solemn and sublime. Spivakov showed a totally unique style, maturity, and exceptional level of the art of craft. It sounded so perfect to me, as if he was thoroughly immersed in the spirit, style and character of the Symphony. Great contrasts of sounds, from top notes to mysterious chords permeated me and my soul.
Spivakov’s incredible modesty, his intelligent restraint alternated with emotional ups and downs, the emotional tension which balanced a careful attitude to the сomposer’s score and personal musical interpretation.
Can I say more? I got carried away with my emotions for a long time.
After the concert, when I went backstage, I was thrilled. I experienced awe, first, in front of aristocratic Satie Spivakova, and later, in a dressing room, when I saw maestro Spivakov. I said a few words of gratitude and appreciation. Excitement and respectful love to this great and beautiful musician were overwhelming. And then, I felt awe in front of you, David, when I came up to you in a silent plea for a autograph for my friend’s son.
There were no words. I felt only the silent gratitude and poignant tenderness for a chance to be a part of this magic on the stage, stand beside the musicians, and look into their eyes. I could hardly breath, I was scared to ruin the integrity, the rebellious and peaceful state after such an unbelievable sacrifice on stage. I thought that any pronounced word would be superfluous and meaningless, and I felt a certain vulnerability and intimacy of the moment.
It is unlikely that you will remember, maestro Spivakov, and you, David, a strange silent girl on crutches, with tear stained eye and burning look, but I will never ever forget you.
Kate Sle
Photo: Elvira Pashkeeva
