Barbican Hall, 16 January 2014

In 1941 Martinu arrived in the USA, fleeing from the war in Europe. At the same time Shostakovich was wrestling with his Seventh Symphony, the Leningrad, while his country was under severe attack from German forces.

The two works which the BBC Symphony Orchestra, under the superb guidance of Semyon Bychkov, presented to us reflected this difference, Martinu’s Concerto for Two Pianos being as far removed from the Leningrad in psychological impact as one could imagine.

Katia and Marielle Labeque were the soloists and their long partnership was amply reflected in the subtle interchanges between them and the fluidity of their approach. Martinu drops us headlong into a full romantic wash of sound, heavily syncopated, but with sudden bursts of unexpected lyricism. If the impact is closer to Gershwin than more familiar Czech music, the composer had spent a considerable amount of time in Paris before leaving for the USA and this west European influence, to say nothing of jazz, is heavily felt throughout. The second movement allows us to hear the pianists individually as well as together without the orchestra. The final movement again enfolds us in a rapid dance which quickly breaks down into an episodic but never uninventive whole. Tiny moments of melody are snatched from the overall percussive approach. Though this may not be a masterpiece it is certainly well worth hearing more often than it is at present.

The warmly lyrical opening of the Leningrad  lulls us into expectations which are not forthcoming. Semyon Bychkov finds hints of Mahler and Sibelius here before the massive impact of the invasion theme. This was magnificently structured, with exceptional solo playing across the whole orchestra. Just when it seemed it could not get any louder the dynamics exploded to an almost painful level. The uneasy calm of the Moderato, with its sudden dark moments and acrid outbursts, prepared us for the hushed interludes of the third movement and the almost lush string sounds that permeate the scoring here. Marie Lloyd’s clarinet playing was particularly noteworthy, giving a plaintive but surprisingly sweet note to the narrative.

The fourth movement has passages of genuine violence, but is it heroic as well? The final pages left us in no doubt of its power and, almost, its fractured nobility, but there was, inevitably a question mark hanging in the air. Can so much anguish and loss ever lead to a genuinely triumphant conclusion?

A magnificent evening, with the orchestra on better form than ever. BH