lang="en-US"> SCRUTINY | Yannick Nézet-Séguin Brings His Signature Dazzle to Toronto
Ludwig van Toronto

SCRUTINY | Yannick Nézet-Séguin Brings His Signature Dazzle to Toronto

Superstar conductor Yannick Nézet-Séguin brings Montreal's Orchestre Métropolitain to Koerner Hall for their Toronto debut. Photo: Lisa Sakulensky
Superstar conductor Yannick Nézet-Séguin brings Montreal’s Orchestre Métropolitain to Koerner Hall for their Toronto debut. Photo: Lisa Sakulensky

Conductor Yannick Nézet-Séguin and cellist Stéphane Tétreault with Orchestre Métropolitain, Koerner Hall, Friday April 24.

What do you get when an all-French Canadian orchestra, playing an all-British program, performs to an all-Torontonian audience? There are few finer things, but let’s see if we can break it down for those who missed it.

Watching conductor Yannick Nézet-Séguin, one can’t help notice a nonchalance that conceals the effort behind pulling music from Montreal’s civic Orchestre Métropolitain (OM) for their Toronto debut.

One quibble was the all-English program of Elgar and Vaughan Williams, played with the French twist that comes from a Québécois orchestra that rarely leaves its home province. The chestnut seemed like an unnecessary linguistic affectation, but was a premise nonetheless, and more than you can say for most concert programs these days.

The commotion began with Elgar’s “Enigma Variations”, which Nézet-Séguin conducted from memory. His approach was authoritative and carried an appreciation for the variations that emerge in a natural flow. Nothing was pushed, and the OM relished each dynamic with a cool sense of spontaneity.

Perhaps a bit fearful of overwhelming the warm acoustics of Koerner Hall, the orchestra’s brawn was a tad restrained. But by the time the muscular ‘Troyte’ variation rolled in, Nézet-Séguin relaxed, allowing the orchestra to open up with a less reserved sound.

After the opening came Elgar’s Cello Concerto – a work composed as a last-ditch effort to turn the composers declining popularity around. The 1919 premiere was a total flop, and largely ignored until cellist Jacqueline du Pré got hold of it in 1960, turning it into a cornerstone of the cello repertoire.

In the hands of young virtuoso cellist Stéphane Tétreault, it was nearly just as impressive. He electrified the four movements with an exceedingly shiny cello, which reflected the halls stage lighting like a Hollywood searchlight. His gaze leaned between Nézet-Séguin and concertmaster Yukari Cousineau, and each exchanged playful and mischievous grins. The tempo was consistent throughout, and intensified the music’s underlying sense of loss. It marked a fairly unusual reading that moved beyond the notes and towards the intricate details of the phrasing.

After an intermission, a roving band of latecomers held out at the bar and interrupted the concert. The hoard bustled into the hall and down the aisles, suspending Nézet-Séguin’s introduction. “Excuse me, coming through”; “Ouch, my foot!”; “That’s my seat over there”; “I need you to move, thanks, thank you.”… Nézet-Séguin was gracious, adding, “Together, hot and loud.”

Once the latecomers were seated, the orchestra dug into another unusual interpretation, this time Ralph Vaughan Williams’ Symphony No. 4. The OM didn’t hold back, especially the Scherzo, which bit hard and nearly peeled the veneer off Koerner’s pristine walls. It was the first time I had ever felt my seat vibrate during a classical music concert.

After the swashbuckling display and pensive emotion, the orchestra was rewarded with a rousing ovation and an open invitation to return to Toronto any time. Let’s hope they noticed.

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