<Translated from Russian automatically>
Alexander Vedernikov, former chief conductor of the Bolshoi Theatre, conducted the latest concert in the anniversary series of the Svetlanov State Academic Symphony Orchestra, under the artistic direction of Vladimir Jurowski. During the protracted story of Mark Gorenstein's resignation as head of the State Academic Symphony Orchestra, Vedernikov was tipped for the position, being named among the most likely and suitable candidates. Although things worked out differently in the end, nothing prevents a good conductor from regularly performing with the orchestra with his own programs.
In a certain sense, Vedernikov effectively showcased the vector of program policy and orchestral sound that was possible, but did not happen as the primary direction. The program consisted of rare, forgotten, and canonical Russian music in roughly equal measure. Mussorgsky was responsible for the canon, Prokofiev's suite for the film Lieutenant Kijé, with Vladislav Sulimsky as soloist, and Myaskovsky’s Cello Concerto with Alexander Knyazev, took care of the semi-forgotten classics—who else could sound so organic in this music, once very popular, then completely disappeared from the big stages.
Vedernikov did not simply propose three scores; he built them into an imposing story arc and clarified: this is about Russia in time. The three scores represent its "yesterday, today, and tomorrow." "Yesterday" is Prokofiev's Kijé, an elegantly satirical cycle rooted not only in film music but also in the prehistory of symphonic genres. A mixture of nostalgia and horror. Romances, troikas, snowy mirages, Gogol-esque and Dostoevsky-esque elements. The ingenious sound of the orchestra in this picturesquely ironic smirk of the composer was performed in the concert somewhat timidly, but carefully and accurately. It recalled the uncertainty with which the orchestra repeated Rachmaninoff's Symphonic Dances with Jurowski at the finale of the "Anniversary Philharmonic Marathon," when the focus didn't quite succeed and the same miracle as Jurowski’s first appearance at the GASO podium did not happen. Myaskovsky was also played very delicately, but Knyazev's straightforwardness was well worth it even so.
The Russian "today" in the Vedernikov-Knyazev version sounded absolutely desolate. Myaskovsky's concerto, written in 1944 and first performed in 1945, is anti-victory music. Majestic in its introversion, bitter and beautiful. The concerto, beautiful in its hopelessness and presented as a metaphor for the Russian present, evoked a sharp musical feeling of astonishment through this contextual twist—the directness and conviction of this music, which is usually heard as restrained (more intellectual than emotional), sounded poignant.
"Tomorrow" was painted by Alexander Vedernikov as the epic and tragedy of the visionary Pictures at an Exhibition by Mussorgsky in Ravel's orchestration. It seems everything was specially conceived for the fantastic culmination of the "Great Gate of Kiev"—a re-worked "Promenade" that depicts not so much historical grandeur as a phantasmagoria of historical hallucination, encompassing all time, or possibly dedicated to the ecstatic movement "back to the future." Vedernikov hears and loves Mussorgsky in a way that, it seems, no one else hears and loves. And nobody else creates such crushing culminations—filled with absolute trust in the joy of the pathos and the sound. Perhaps only Denis Matsuev on the piano, but in Vedernikov’s version there is less sweetness, more happiness. In the sound of the Pictures, no matter how much of Ravel there was, one could sense the Boris Godunov of many years ago at the Bolshoi. And the ballet steps and special effects of glowing skulls scattered throughout Mussorgsky's score made the "tomorrow" picture more multidimensional. And it was this "tomorrow" that finally appeared as a triumphant flourish of conditionality. Everything that sounded was "today," and the audience was the witness whom the conductor and orchestra forced to genuinely experience conditionality in the present time.
Source.