Friday afternoon’s family-friendly, post-Thanksgiving subscription concert rewarded the full house with cloudless Dvořák: the Symphony No. 8 in G Major and the Cello Concerto in B minor with soloist Pablo Ferrández. Associate Conductor Samy Rachid drew warmth and enthusiastic engagement from the players and allowed the many solos to bloom. His tall stature and very long arms (we have requested the tale of the tape) kept eyes focused on his full-body ministrations; with his left hand, the most expressive we have seen, he could draw sounds from the air, pour forth blessings as if dispensing nectar, virtually play strings on ebony with his coiling fingertips, and outline phrases with a painter’s line. His baton defined ever-clear beats and useful cues illustrated with pizzicato-like precision at times. He could embody the rising and setting of the sun. And he could, like a misdirecting pugilist, look one way while delivering pointers in another. The orchestra went to the mat for Dvořák with him.

With patient sweetness, questing openness, and brilliant acceleration into swirling figures, Rachid helmed the long introduction to the concerto.  Richard Sebring’s noble horn call of the big theme, and Tom Martin’s warm clarinet response brought in the soloist. Ferrández entered with big, rounded tone, certainty of intonation, immaculate articulation, and a poet’s intensity. At every dynamic his tone projected majestically into the hall with nary a scratchy moment, even in the triple stops. An experienced cellist himself, Rachid supported the soloist with signal sensitivity, and he set up the many sectional and individual solos from the orchestra often with the coiled windup and swift delivery of a major leaguer. He called for and received period-correct portamenti from the strings and made the rubatos feel inevitable. The upper strings, even when tremulating furiously, always communicated something of shining consequence. Flutist Elizabeth Klein’s duet with Ferrández in the slow section stopped time. Rachid, the knightly virtuoso, chivalrously dispatched every challenge. The extended coda unleashed a fury of guilty technical pleasures.

The very vocal lower strings transmitted a lover’s epistle to Rachid and the soloist as the Adagio ma non troppo commenced. A concerto grosso of all the sections and many of the individuals, the movement rhapsodized for Dvořák. The cello’s double stops with pizzicato astonished, as did his pppp harmonics at the close. Constructed as a rondo, the Allegro moderato transitions from bittersweet longing to unfettered joy. If it looks to conclude with a sigh, the composer had other plans: a slam-bang finish.

Called back repeatedly, Ferrández offered an encore, the Sarabande from Bach’s Suite No. 1 in G Major. His singing tone and learned declamation drew all eyes and ears to the depths of his quietude.

Many have mentioned that Dvořák wanted his Symphony No. 8 to be “…different from [his] other symphonies, with individual thoughts worked out in a new way…” It gives a lot of attention to the cello section, especially in the opening bars, and the main theme that follows.  Cheery and lyrical, it draws its inspiration from folk tunes.” Welcomed by flutist Lorna McGhee’s burbling bird calls, our delightful sojourn in a Bohemian grove (not The Bohemian Grove) featured many instrumental (and sectional solos), each a wonder.  It worked itself into a non-threatening tempest before giving way to a second theme from the winds in a lower range. There’s a lot of refreshing alternation between G minor and G major, from the beginning of the movement to the end.  

The Adagio summoned an image of a nostalgic pensioner recalling youth from a rhythmic rocking chair while Rachid gestured as if strewing pinches of manna. Assistant Concertmaster Alexander Velinzon restated the theme in glowing tone, finishing his moment with some fiddler’s double stops. Lovely tranquility and nice, juicy slides from the shimmering strings characterized the Allegretto grazioso, as Rachid led a waltz across the dance floor graciously but not without sadness. With some teasing hesitations, he nailed the subtle meter changes – a Trio section that suggests 3/2 in the accompaniment, and a Coda in 2/4.

The Finale (Allegro ma non troppo), in a theme-and-variation form, with development, that is unusual for its time, begins with an irresistible call from the trumpets. According to conductor Rafael Kubelik, “… in Bohemia the trumpets never call to battle – they always call to the dance!” The very human cello section seconded and improved upon the trumpets’ call before highly imaginative and colorful variations ensued…including a jaunty Janissary episode, Lorna McGhee’s confident solo flute ‘song,’ exuberant Czech folksiness, and impossibly fast horn trills (even a crazy full-octave scale in trumpets and trombones) before a generous acclamation testified to the collective good cheer.

Note: musicological details from Mark DeVoto

Lee Eiseman is the publisher of the Intelligencer