With apologies to R&B artist Jean Knight, you could ascribe the title of her biggest hit to Minnesota Orchestra Music Director Thomas Søndergård: “Mr. Big Stuff.”
Ever since his arrival two years ago, Søndergård has demonstrated a preference for big pieces that express big emotions, their climaxes large and loud. He’s conducted some impressively large-scale stuff since he arrived, such as Igor Stravinsky’s “Rite of Spring” and Richard Strauss’ “An Alpine Symphony,” and has brought opera back to Orchestra Hall with Giacomo Puccini’s “Turandot.”
And he’s tackling another epic this weekend with Hector Berlioz’s “Symphonie Fantastique.” Thursday’s midday concert effectively underlined the impression that Søndergård not only likes to turn the volume and emotional intensity up full blast, but that he also seeks subtlety in places where most conductors don’t commonly find it.
That was the case with Berlioz’s booming symphony, but also with a deeply involving interpretation of the First Violin Concerto of 20th-century Polish composer Karol Szymanowski, the very talented Benjamin Beilman soloing. It proved a very well-played program that gradually grew from calm to explosive.
After a collection of 11 brass players offered the engaging antiphonal serenade of Japanese modernist Tōru Takemitsu’s “Night Signal,” Beilman took the stage for Szymanowski’s single-movement concerto. It’s a work that travels a serpentine route, taking listeners from a misty, mystical opening to troubled terrain over which Beilman spun some lovely lyricism.
The violinist proved an eloquent guide through the work’s panoply of mood swings, summoning up an anxious fury with his aggressive bowing, soaring to stratospheric heights in the quietest sections, and transfixing with a fiery cadenza. It was a triumphant interpretation that left me longing to hear more from both composer and soloist.
While Berlioz’s “Symphonie Fantastique” was revolutionary for its time (1830), perhaps I’ve heard one too many bombastic, over-the-top interpretations of it. Søndergård eschewed such temptations, instead using a broad range of dynamics to draw forth intricate details in the opening movement and lend gripping gravitas to a waltz that sounded as if setting the sound template for Peter Tchaikovsky decades before he hit the radar.
But it was never more affecting than in the third movement, dubbed “In the Country,” which gleaned some of the mood of Beethoven’s “Pastoral” Symphony, but ended in a place of loss, loneliness and menace. And the final two movements erupted with volcanic drama, yet Søndergård still brought forth some arrestingly subtle exchanges within the orchestra, demonstrating once again that big music doesn’t have to bludgeon you with sound.
