SHOSTAKOVICH WITH LEONIDAS KAVAKOS & HANNU LINTU / Singapore Symphony Orchestra / Review

SHOSTAKOVICH WITH

LEONIDAS KAVAKOS & HANNU LINTU

Singapore Symphony Orchestra

Esplanade Concert Hall

Thursday (9 April 2026)

This review was first published in Bachtrack.com on 13 April 2026 with the title "Lintu, Kavakos and the Singapore Symphony Orchestra make the case for Shostakovich".

Has Dmitri Shostakovich become the new Rachmaninov in Singapore? There have never been more performances of Dmitri Shostakovich’s music in Singapore within such a short space in living memory. Two weeks ago, the Singapore Symphony Orchestra scaled his Eleventh Symphony with Eliahu Inbal conducting, and the First Piano Concerto followed with Yeol Eum Son’s brilliant fingers a week later. The Fifth Symphony will be heard from the Yong Siew Toh Conservatory Orchestral Institute in two days’ time, and under SSO’s Music Director-Designate Finnish conductor Hannu Lintu, two blockbusters attracted audiences the size that would usually flock to Rachmaninov evenings.

Photo: Jack Yam

The Soviet era composer’s blend of 20th century modernism, dissonant but ultimately tonal, with communicative raw emotions identifiable with contemporary living, was what packed them in. Raw and gritty, as opposed to Rachmaninov’s lush and opulent, also found receptive ears. There was no virtuoso more suave than Greek violinist Leonidas Kavakos for the First Violin Concerto in A minor (Op.99), composed in 1947. 

The opening Nocturne pitted low strings against the high line seamlessly established by Kavakos, whose clear and incisive tones sang out like a voice in the wilderness. The bitterness expressed, followed by lashings of vitriol in the Scherzo, where violin battled spiky woodwinds in a hammer-and-tongs struggle, would be suppressed until after Stalin’s death in 1953.

The concerto was clearly about a man against an oppressive totalitarian system, which the original dedicatee David Oistrakh fully understood. Kavakos, despite his cool approach, was never at odds with this, and the ensuing Passacaglia reinforced its gravity. There was a long pause for effect before the searing solo cadenza which launched inexorably into the finale’s Burlesque. In its frenetic pages, the baton flew off Lintu’s grasp, landing in front of Kavakos who returned it to the mirth of the audience. That was a brief moment of comic relief amid the flailing Klezmer-influenced mayhem which brought the concerto to a explosive close, greeted by a chorus of cheers. 

Kavakos’ encore of J.S.Bach’s Loure from Partita No.3 in E major (BWV.1006) provided the perfect balm for the frayed nerves that came before.

Shostakovich’s longest symphony, the Seventh or “Leningrad”, composed during the thousand-day Nazi siege of the city where a million souls perished, completed the evening. Should this be regarded as absolute or programme music, or propagandist hubris for a wartime cause? Lintu and his charges let the music speak for itself, with sound production being the primary agenda. To this end, four French horns, three trumpets and three trombones were placed in the gallery behind the orchestra for maximal projection... and it worked. Seldom has there been a more clear-headed performance of the music, with its themes well-delineated and never strained beyond incredulity. The battle depicted resistance not so much against Fascism but against the banalities of vulgarity.

That infamous first movement invasion theme (based on either Lehar or Tchaikovsky, later parodied by Bartok) and its ensuing crescendo was built up organically, and ratcheted to an ear-lacerating climax. Guo Siping’s plaintive bassoon solo provided the desolate denouement. After the exhausting half-hour mark, the central slow movements provided relief despite interludes of upheavals for contrast, and it was the finale which picked up from the opening movement’s exertions. The transition to C major at its conclusion provided the final redemption for the city which “Stalin destroyed and Hitler finished off”. 

Photo: Jack Yam

The 78 minutes was a journey well spent. If this show of passion and commitment cannot stir zeal and interest in Singapore for arguably the 20th century’s greatest composer, nothing else will.

Star Rating: *****

The original review on Bachtrack.com:

Lintu, Kavakos and the SSO make the case for Shostakovich | Bachtrack

LEONIDAS KAVAKOS WITH SSO / LEONIDAS KAVAKOS IN RECITAL / Review

DVORAK & TCHAIKOVSKY

HANS GRAF & LEONIDAS KAVAKOS

Singapore Symphony Orchestra

Victoria Concert Hall

Friday (13 October 2023)

 

LEONIDAS KAVAKOS IN RECITAL

with ENRICO PACE, Piano

Victoria Concert Hall

Sunday (15 October 2023)

 

It cannot get better with two Singapore Symphony Orchestra Gala Concerts featuring celebrity performers held in close proximity. Or can it? While Latvia-born cellist Mischa Maisky (29 & 30 September) was a heart-warming ray of sunshine, Greek violinist Leonidas Kavakos (13-15 October) came across like a cold fish. The cancellation of a masterclass at Yong Siew Toh Conservatory and absence of post-concerto autograph sessions should have provided a clue. Then came Kavakos’ performance of Tchaikovsky’s evergreen Violin Concerto with the orchestra under the direction of Hans Graf.

 

If one wondered why Viennese critic Eduard Hanslick famously hated this concerto, one supposes he had heard the performance Kavakos gave on Friday evening. The usually urbane and suave fiddler appeared on the evening sullen and ill at ease. After the orchestra’s “once upon a time” introduction, his entry was clear-headed, exhibiting his famed big sound, and then it began to fray. The pristine articulation and intonation that distingushed his pre-pandemic performance of Korngold (January 2020) was conspicuously absent, in its place rough and ready playing that was intermittently breathtaking but somewhat disturbing. In a word, it was wild and wildly uneven.

 

All constraints of good taste and deportment, even for a passionate work such as Tchaikovsky, were cast into the winds. The development displayed unbridled passion, with the orchestra trading blow for blow, and that was very good. The ensuing cadenza however fully lived up to Hanslick’s infamous description of the violin “beaten black and blue” and providing a “stink to the ears”.

 

There was some respite in the Canzonetta, where wind solos accompanied his simple and unadorned song with much alacrity. But it also seemed impatient, as if girding one’s loins for the Allegro vivacissimo finale’s assault, which took off like a rocket. Here was the license to go for broke, and Kavakos went in for the kill. Again, his much-vaunted technical abilities were called to question, and if this were heard in a violin competition, he would have been eliminated early. Kavakos being Kavakos and wholly a rule to his own, he slashed a swathe through the thickets and closed with an outsized aplomb which only he could command. It wasn’t pretty, but at least he played the hell out of the work, and it was helluva exciting.

 

The obligatory encore from J.S.Bach’s unaccompanied Partita No.1, the Sarabande and its Double, was performed without repeats and included some ornamentations. This provided a much needed change of pace, but it was all so perfunctory. Any conscientious conservatory student might have fared better. With his work done for the day, the out of sorts Kavakos seemed more than happy to exit the stage.   

 

The balance of this gala concert was, thankfully, far more refined. Not that refined is the best adjective to describe Antonin Dvorak, but there was much to love in his music that is not often heard. His ten Legends (Op.59) were originally conceived for piano four hands, but sound lovely in orchestral guise. The concert opened with the first four pieces, performed like a short suite, each movement resembling his better known Slavonic Dances but without the Bohemian nationalist garb. These very pleasant but varied pieces were performed with polish and good taste.

 

The major success came in Dvorak’s underrated Symphony No.6 in D major (Op.60). While not as famous as his final trilogy, it contained much good material which was milked for its worth, sounding like a Slavic counterpart to Brahms, who had been a very good colleague to Dvorak. Graf and the orchestra generated an outsized sonority more appropriate to Esplanade Concert Hall, not least in the fast and furious Furiant third movement, which stretched the acoustic limits of Victoria Concert Hall to the max. The Brahmsian finale swept all in its path, showing the SSO has mastered the music of Mittel-Europa very well under Graf’s masterly leadership.

 

Sunday afternoon’s all-French violin and piano recital by Kavakos with Italian pianist Enrico Pace was to be a true test. Compared with Friday’s Tchaikovsky, this was a much better outing. A couple more days of acclimatisation and rest might have made the difference. Opening with Ravel’s Sonate Posthume, otherwise known as his Sonata No.1 (No.2 being the familiar sonata with the famous Blues), it received a lovely reading. Its simple unadorned opening felt like a breath of fresh air, the single-movement being a langourous wallow with a couple of climaxes. Playing from a tablet, there was simply no chance of going auto-pilot or sleepwalking, and so every note seemed to count for something. Pianist Pace, no mean virtuoso himself, ensured that the ensemble was top notch throughout. Listening to his parts were a pleasure in itself.

 

The ensuing Poulenc Violin Sonata provided a jolt to the senses, its madcap antics contrasted with sober parts kept the duo in its toes. Negotiating its hairpin turns in moods and dynamics with stunning aplomb, there was never a dull moment. The finale’s switch from frivolity to utter seriousness, and its abrupt close reminded one and all that this was a wartime work (1943) dedicated to the memory of murdered Spanish poet Federico Garcia Lorca.

 

The second half of the two-hour-long recital began with Debussy’s late Violin Sonata, which echoed the myriad shifts of the Poulenc but with a more sober countenance. Its slightly more elusive idiom was laid bare with clinical precision, and if there was a performance which was less involving, it was this one. No worries, however, in the familiar Cesar Franck Sonata in A major, where Kavakos’ warmth of tone was matched by Pace’s mastery of the more-than-demanding piano part. This is one work that can be tainted with over-familiarity, but the duo kept it fresh. By now both violinist and pianist might have been exhausted, but the busy narrative would still have excited any listener new to the music. The finale’s canon provided a hint that the duo was tiring, with some dropped notes here and there but its glorious close drew an appreciative applause.  

 

Buoyed by the warm reception, both Kavakos and Pace found new wind in their two encores, both by Ravel: the Blues movement from the Sonata in G major, reveling in its vigourous pizzicatos, and the far more gentle Berceuse sur le nom de Gabriel Faure. The latter provided the perfectly symmetrical bookend to the Faure-influenced sonata that opened the recital. Three concerts in as many days are what globetrotting artists are subjected to, and the hazards of uneven playing are in evidence. Kavakos, like the best of them, was not exempt, thus proving he is human after all.  

 

KAVAKOS PLAYS SHOSTAKOVICH / Singapore Symphony Orchestra Gala / Review

KAVAKOS PLAYS SHOSTAKOVICH

Singapore Symphony Orchestra

Esplanade Concert Hall

Saturday (5 May 2018)

This review was published in The Straits Times with the title "SSO again displays mastery in Russian music".

The last gala concert in the Singapore Symphony Orchestra's 2017-18 season was an all-Russian programme conducted by Shui Lan. The orchestra has had a long love affair with Russian music since its early years under Choo Hoey, and this concert was another demonstration of its mastery in this repertoire.

The atmospheric Prelude to Mussorgsky's unfinished opera Khovanshchina, also called Dawn On The Moscow River, provided an excellent start. Over the hushed tones of violas, Evgueni Brokmiller's flute and Li Xin's clarinet sung a folkloric melody, immediately conjuring an air of melancholy that typified the Russian spirit. A quartet of French horns relived the peal of distant church bells, raising the spectre of Mussorgsky's greatest opera Boris Godunov, but a still calm returned as this mini-epic drew to a quiet close.

While Mussorgsky was Russia's musical conscience in the 19^th century, and his modern-day counterpart was Shostakovich, whose First Violin Concerto in A minor has become one of the most performed of 20^th century violin concertos. Its first performance had to be suppressed until after Stalin's death. It was thought that music posed dangerous ideas, including promoting dissonance, dissent and defeatism, all taboo in the totalitarian Soviet Union.

These were laid bare in Greek violinist Leonidas Kavakos' blistering performance. From the darkest of orchestral openings, Kavakos' crystalline tone shone like shafts of clear moonlight through murky clouds in the 1^st movement's Nocturne. Here the night was synonymous with bleakness and unease, in particular the fear and dread of that knock on the door after midnight.

Shostakovich lived a life of chronic gloom, and even if his music sometimes appeared cheerful, it was invariably dripping with vitriol. Kavakos' searing and lancinating solo led the way in the Scherzo, which highlighted the bassoon for comic relief and also quoted the composer's own initials DSCH (D-E flat-C-B natural) as a personal stamp.

The 3^rd movement's moving Passacaglia and the final Klezmer-charged Burlesque was not just about Kavakos' astounding and free-wheeling virtuosity, but also how well Shui and his orchestra responded to its enormous challenges in partnership. Shouts of bravo were silenced by Kavakos' antithetical encore, a lightly ornamented reading of the Sarabande from J.S.Bach's Partita No.2.

Tchaikovsky's First Symphony in G minor, or “Winter Daydreams”, closed the evening on yet another high. Although one of his less popular symphonies, it is still filled with his trademarks – sumptuous melodies, bracing climaxes and an underlying neurosis. All of these surfaced in the 1^st movement, which was a constant battle between tension and relaxation.

An aural lusciousness shone through in the slow movement, with muted strings matched by exquisite solos from oboe, flute and bassoon. Bringing to mind some of Tchaikovsky's best ballet music, this and the 3^rd movement's Scherzo also featured the best playing. The finale's success was all about building up to a terrific climax, and this was delivered with absolute panache.

SSO CONCERT: BEETHOVEN VIOLIN CONCERTO WITH LEONIDAS KAVAKOS / Review

BEETHOVEN VIOLIN CONCERTO

WITH LEONIDAS KAVAKOS

Singapore Symphony Orchestra

Victoria Concert Hall

Saturday (26 September 2015)

This review was published in The Straits Times on 28 September 2015 with the title "Double duty, double joy".

Soloists who perform as well as conduct in the same evening are no longer a rarity at Singapore Symphony Orchestra concerts. The latest is Greek violin virtuoso Leonidas Kavakos, who opened with Beethoven's Violin Concerto from the floor and later stepped on the podium to conduct Dvorak's Seventh Symphony.

The Beethoven was a revelation, coming across as an ultimate piece of chamber music. The long orchestral tutti set the tone, directed by Kavakos on centrestage. The tempo he chose was comfortable, perfectly judged for his solo entry which brought out the sweetest sound one could possibly hope for.

His intonation was spot on throughout, and there was never that tension that usually exists between soloist and orchestra. He and the SSO were in one mind, and one heart together, his Stradivarius rising above the massed strings yet blending as one voice. Here was an arch-virtuoso, renowned for his pyrotechnics in Romantic and modern repertoire, tempering a soloistic instinct in service of this anti-virtuosic music.

With both hands occupied, a mere nod of the head or gesture in the face was enough for his partners to do his bidding, and the result was pure harmony. Things heated up in the first movement cadenza by Fritz Kreisler, taken with a nonchalant ease, and the result was warmth itself. Premature applause from the excitable audience was greeted with a friendly smile by Kavakos, and the feeling of bliss carried through to the Larghetto slow movement, where among the sublime moments included one where his violin was accompanied by pizzicato strings.

The rondo finale was a joyous romp, one so agreeable that a final cadenza thrown in to stir things up seemed only a concession for display for display's sake. Even this was in the true classical spirit, which was roundly applauded. The hair-raising stuff came in Kavakos' encore, a scarcely believable solo transcription of Tarrega's guitar classic Memories of the Alhambra.  

Kavakos is less experienced as a conductor on the podium, but brought out an exciting reading of Dvorak's Seventh Symphony in D minor. The contrast could not have been greater, with the gentility of Beethoven giving way to the raw dramatics of the Bohemian. Even with a reduced sized band, Romantic repertoire invariably tests Victoria Concert Hall's acoustics to the limit. Dvorak, whose orchestration resembles that of Brahms, sounded plethoric especially in the loud climaxes. 

Taking a broader than usual tempo, the first movement dragged a little and some of the nervous tension was lost. However potential for upping the ante existed, and that gradually proved the case. The slow movement provided a mellow spell, all but blown away by the vigourous Slavonic rhythm of the third movement. The symphony never looked back after that, with a return of the energy and drama in the finale.

This time, Kavakos with his shoulder-length locks was practically leaping from the podium, as if possessed. The final climax was an overwhelming one. Dvorak was to complete two further and more popular symphonies, but both would not come close to the sheer angst of the Seventh. SSO and Kavakos nailed this one firmly between the eyes.     

CD Reviews (The Straits Times, September 2015)

VIRTUOSITY:

MUSIC IS LIKE A MIRROR

EuroArts 2061288 (DVD) / ****

The 14^th Van Cliburn International Piano Competition, held in Fort Worth (Texas) in 2013, was the first edition of American's most prestigious competition to take place after the death of its muse, the American pianist Van Cliburn (1934-2013). He had become an international superstar and national hero after winning the Tchaikovsky International Piano Competition in 1958. 

The competition’s  documentary movie, directed by Christopher Wilkinson, follows its predecessors by having a linear narrative, beginning with 30 competing pianists arriving from all over the world, the piano selection process and performance footages, all the way to the prize presentation ceremony. Where it departs from the others is its focus on pianists as individuals with high hopes and ambitions, who stake their reputations and lives for their art, as well as the role of music critics.

Even the “losers” get a look-in, particularly the elimination of baby-faced American Steven Lin (an audience favourite who was perhaps deemed to lack gravitas, left) and the angst-ridden Italian Alessandro Deljavan (who probably displayed too much angst for comfort). 

In the bonus section, there are performances by the eventual prizewinners Vadym Kholodenko (in Liszt's Wilde Jagd), Beatrice Rana (Ravel's Scarbo) and Sean Chen (Scriabin's Sonata No.5). Somehow through the proceedings, one gets the subliminal message that this competition, with typically American glitz, glamour and big money, was becoming a triumph of youthful proficiency and marketability over plain and good old (and sometimes boring) artistry.  

SHOSTAKOVICH Symphony No.9

Violin Concerto No.1

LEONIDAS KAVAKOS, Violin

Mariinsky Orchestra / VALERY GERGIEV

Mariinsky 0524 / *****

Here are two works of Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975) that could have landed him in trouble, even risking time in a gulag. In the eyes and ears of Soviet cultural watchdogs under the Stalinist regime, their musical message would have been marked as subversive. His Ninth Symphony Op.70 was composed in 1945 near the end of the Great Patriotic War, and instead of a grand life-affirming Ninth in the joyous manner of Beethoven that was expected, the result was a short and unusually wry account of faux-rejoicing. There are three fast movements of enforced gaiety separated by two dark slow movements. The 4^th and 5^th  movements are linked by a mocking bassoon solo, an instrument he frequently associated with bumbling bureaucracy.

The First Violin Concerto (originally Op.77, later revised to Op.99) was completed in 1948, but its premiere was witheld until 1955, after the death of Stalin. A pessimistic tone and the incorporation of Jewish klezmer elements were deemed inappropriate during a climate of artistic censorship and anti-Semitism. It has now become one of the most performed 20^th century concertos, and Greek violinist Leonidas Kavakos gives a searing performance that does not stint on its communicative power and shock value. The Mariinsky Orchestra under Valery Gergiev are close to ideal interpreters, acutely aware of the music's trenchant qualities and having Shostakovich's ironic idiom in their blood.   

CD Reviews (The Straits Times, July 2014)

DUBOIS Piano Concertos

CEDRIC TIBERHIEN, Piano

BBC Scottish Symphony / Andrew Manze

Hyperion 67931 / ****1/2

History and posterity might judge French composer Theodore Dubois (1837-1924) as a staid academic and musical arch-conservative. Those qualities also apply to his contemporary, the well-loved Camille Saint-Saëns who was no more a revolutionary in his music. This disc of three Dubois piano concertos should align the two establishment figures in better perspective and possibly tip in favour of the underdog. His single-movement Concerto-Capriccioso in C minor (1876) opens with an extended solo cadenza, and shifts from seriousness to keyboard glitter, not unlike the 1^st movement of Saint-Saens’s popular Second Piano Concerto (1868).    

The Second Piano Concerto in F minor (1897) is the longest work at 28 minutes but is almost perfectly judged as not to outlive its welcome. Its four-movement form including a quirky staccato-laden Scherzo, which lasts all of two minutes, seems almost identical in proportion to Prokofiev’s modernistic Second Piano Concerto, a world away in terms of musical idiom. Finally the Suite for Piano & Strings (1917), also in four movements, is a total charmer from his old age. The fact that 41 years separate the three works makes little difference to Dubois, who rarely varied his style or palette to move with the times. These performances by French virtuoso Cedric Tiberghien, sympathetically accompanied by excellent Scottish forces, sparkle like champagne, should win new friends for the much-maligned Dubois.   

BRAHMS Violin Sonatas

LEONIDAS KAVAKOS, Violin

YUJA WANG, Piano

Decca 478 6442 / *****

It is refreshing to see and hear two of the world’s most celebrated soloists go into anti-virtuoso mode in the give-and-take world of chamber music-making. The three violin sonatas (Opus 78, 100 and 108) of Johannes Brahms could hardly be described as “easy”, but the depth of musicianship demanded goes beyond mere technical command and instrumental virtuosity. Greek violinist Leonidas Kavakos is an established chamber music veteran, having recently completed a superb Beethoven sonata cycle (also on Decca), while Yuja Wang sheds her solo diva image to be a close to ideal partner.

Even in the faster outer movements of the sonatas, there is no hint of flash or fireworks, instead a subdued and sublime air dominates. Kavakos’s tone is sweet, Wang’s piano is deliberately understated and the balance they achieve together is perfect. The slow movements are as lovely as they are breathtaking in conception. As a bonus, the duo includes the tempestuous but early Scherzo in C minor (from the FAE Sonata crafted by three composers for the violinist Joseph Joachim), which opens the disc, and as an encore a transcription of Brahms’s Cradle Song, a somnolent but effective way to sign off. Warmly recommended. 

LEONIDAS KAVAKOS & ENRICO PACE IN RECITAL / Review

LEONIDAS KAVAKOS &

ENRICO PACE IN RECITAL

Yong Siew Toh Conservatory

Tuesday (3 September 2013)

This review was published in The Straits Times on 5 September 2013 with the title "Pick of the crop".

This violin and piano recital would not have taken in Singapore some 35 years ago, not just because the Conservatory did not exist in those days or the Singapore Symphony Orchestra in its infancy did not attract top soloists like it does today, but because celebrated Greek violinist Leonidas Kavakos would have been turned away at the airport. Sporting shoulder length hair and designer stubble, he appeared more like a rock star than one of classical music’s greatest violinists.

Looks aside, his recital with Italian pianist Enrico Pace attracted a large audience at the Conservatory to witness chamber music at its finest. The somewhat unusual programme began conventionally enough with Beethoven’s Sonata in C minor (Op.30 No.2).

Pace’s piano opened all its four movements, statements that coloured the complexion of this dramatic work. His clarity was a revelation, as was his blending in with Kavakos’s solo lines. This was not merely accompaniment but a partnership of equals, and not for nothing did Beethoven conceived his sonatas “for piano with violin”.

The outer movements were urgent and emphatic, with undertones of great pathos. Their trenchant delivery was contrasted with the flowing lyricism of the slow movement and the scherzo’s playful staccato passages. The duo’s rendition sung, sobbed, commiserated and then raged with a burning intensity.

The French impressionist composers contributed the recital’s two centrepieces. The late Sonata in G minor by Debussy had intimate moments which were handled with much subtlety, and a mercurial central movement that joked and jibed like the characters from commedia dell’arte. The early single-movement Sonate Posthume by Ravel, not to be confused with the bluesy later Sonata in G major, began with sparseness from Kavakos’s violin but soon blossomed into a full-throated vibrato.

The Italian composer Respighi’s Sonata in B minor has been championed by Jascha Heifetz and Kyung-Wha Chung among others, but is rarely heard here. Its sheer opulence in instrumental colours and textures were fully realised by Kavakos and Pace. The dark first movement brooded but intermittently admitted rays of sunshine. The voluptuous slow movement, a fount of poetry itself, rose to an impassioned Straussian climax.

More Germanic than Italianate, the Brahmsian finale was a rugged Passacaglia that packed every possible emotion in its succession of peaks and troughs. It was a sturdy but exciting ride from the duo which ensured that its emphatic close was greeted with a chorus of cheers. More were to come with the two encores, Stravinsky’s lusty Russian Dance from Petrushka (arranged by Samuel Dushkin) and the lovely slow movement of Schumann’s First Violin Sonata.

This has been a marquee year for chamber music in Singapore, and this excellent recital must easily be the finest pick of the crop.

Man talk: Leonidas Kavakos in conversation with Albert Tiu
(probably comparing facial hair) wiith YST Head of Strings
Qian Zhou coyly (and enviously) looking on .

Enrico Pace shares a joke with YST Head Bernard Lanskey
("My beard's heaps neater than yours!")

           

SSO Concert: Transfiguration / Review

TRANSFIGURATION
Singapore Symphony Orchestra
Esplanade Concert Hall
Friday (5 February 2010)

This review was published in The Straits Times on 9 February 2010.

It was an inspired stroke of programming by the Singapore Symphony Orchestra to pair music by Johannes Brahms and Arnold Schoenberg. The former was a staunch upholder of the classical tradition, while the latter threatened and destroyed the status quo. Both composers resided in Vienna, becoming as iconic as the musical capital itself.

Brahms’ Tragic Overture, a stand-alone symphonic movement rather than prelude to musical theatre, is equal to any in his four symphonies. Under conductor Okko Kamu, the orchestra coaxed a very smooth and non-histrionic performance. While hard edges and bumps were ironed out, its evocation of seriousness and portent of tragedy were never in doubt. Drawn inexorably by the pull of Fate, its Beethovenian conclusion was also delivered with aplomb.

Lushness of sonority distinguished Schoenberg’s (left) most popular work Verklaerte Nacht (Transfigured Night), originally written for string sextet in 1899. The large string orchestra version was heard, with its post-Wagnerian maelstrom of anguish and neurosis amplified manifold.

Apart from several solo passages that sounded disjointed, the playing was generally polished. Although the ensemble also coped well with its roller-coaster of emotions, there was an episodic feel through its half-hour duration. For the ultimate of slickness, one will still defer to Karajan’s legendary 1973 recording.

The evening’s highlight was undoubtedly Brahms’ Violin Concerto in D major (Op.77), with its solo part commandingly helmed by Greek violinist Leonidas Kavakos (left). So good was this that it put the memory of the New York Philharmonic’s performance last October well in the shade. Kavakos is not one of those glib play-by-numbers jet-setting soloists; he made every note and phrase count towards a magnificent whole.

For all his voluminous tone and perfect intonation, it was the fine control, ability to feel and fit into the music’s myriad contours that were striking. The reflective moment shortly following the 1st movement cadenza, where he blended seamlessly with Ma Yue’s solo clarinet and Rachel Walker’s oboe, was something magical worth reliving over and over.

Following the sublime slow movement where Walker’s solo sparkled like a jewel, Kavakos led the attack on the Hungarian-flavoured finale. More furioso than giocoso, he threw all caution into the wind, even adding dance-like steps to the invigorating Rondo. The applause was loud and prolonged, generously reciprocated with two substantial encores by Ysaye (slow movement from Sonata No.4) and Bach (Sarabande from Partita No.2). Music-making rarely gets better than this.

An American lady sitting beside me 

suggested that Leonidas Kavakos looked  

like Marc Chagall's Green Violinist.

By golly, she was right!