In an era when most Proms programmes follow the tedious formula of “New work by [BAME/woman/other minority composer; deleted as appropriate] never to be heard again; safe concerto; interval; comforting symphony”, it was a rare pleasure hearing the kind of concert to have made Sir Henry Wood’s eyes gleam. Two works by two of the greatest late 19th/early 20th century composer pianists, Rachmaninoff and Busoni, both of whom performed at the Promenade concerts under the aforenamed founder. 

One piece is a staple of concert programmes in both the orchestral version and the arrangement for two pianos. (The latter was given its premiere by the composer and Vladimir Horowitz at a private party in Los Angeles. Oh, to have been an olive in the martini that night.) The other is performed so rarely that pianophiles will (and did) travel the length of the country to hear it, some out of fervid admiration for Busoni’s magnum opus and others from simple curiosity to see if it can be done without falling apart. In either case, it was to a packed house that Edward Gardner and a remarkably young London Philharmonic Orchestra took the stage of the Royal Albert Hall last night.

The Symphonic Dances, Rachmaninoff’s penultimate composition, completed in 1940, can be seen as both valediction and distillation. Throughout the three movements Rachmaninoff demonstrates his utter mastery of orchestration, conjuring polychromatic bursts of joy and shards of sorrow with the surest hand. The piece is laced with quotations from his own works and from that plainchant which fascinated him throughout life, the Dies irae. Yet never does it seem overly referential, nor derivative, nor in the least nostalgic. This is modern music: taut even while romantic, exuding energy and almost giddy with the rhythms of the motor age. 

After that amuse bouche came a piece that is the main course, savoury, cheese and pudding all by itself

Gardner and his orchestra gave an exemplary performance. Unlike most conductors, he took the opening movement’s Non allegro tempo marking seriously, making the rests between notes integral to the music rather than mere gaps. There were moments of true beauty, particularly the first movement’s alto saxophone solo — which here was played by Martin Robertson as though drifting up from a basement jazz café at 3am — and of visceral thrill: I don’t think I have ever heard the finale played with such intensity. There is humour in Rachmaninoff’s music, despite Stravinsky’s characterization of him as a six-and-a-half-foot scowl, and it was evident in every movement of this magnificent performance. The highlight, though, was the second movement waltz. Gardner conducted this with a sensual elegance reminiscent of Carlos Kleiber, rubato carefully judged, always remaining just on the tasteful side of swooning. The sight of those in the arena swaying to this wonderful music was heartwarming.

After that amuse bouche came a piece that is the main course, savoury, cheese and pudding all by itself. Ferruccio Dante Michelangiolo Benvenuto (tiger parents, bow in awe) Busoni’s Piano Concerto was first and last heard at the Proms in 1988, with Peter Donohoe as soloist. Considered the Everest of piano concerti by dint of its length (c. 70 minutes), staggering demands on the pianist, not all that much lesser demands on the orchestra and requirement for a large male-voice choir in the fifth and final movement, which sets part of Adam Oelenschlӓger’s Aladdin, it is the obvious choice to celebrate Busoni’s centenary of death this year. Finding a pianist capable of surmounting it is less obvious. Luckily for Prommers, the young English pianist Benjamin Grosvenor has the technical and musical ability necessary. He deployed them both to astounding effect. 

Busoni was a hodgepodge of nationalities, influences, philosophies and whims. Born in Empoli in 1866 to an Italian father and Austrian mother, both musicians, he studied in Trieste and Vienna (hence his fluency in German, his preferred language), taught in Finland, Russia and America, then from 1893 based himself in Berlin. From there he ranged around the world as a concert pianist, all the while composing original works and the Bach transcriptions for which he is best known.

The Piano Concerto, written between 1901 and 1904, Busoni considered his masterpiece in the sense of its marking his transition from apprentice to fully developed composer. Its ambition is beyond doubt. Over the course of five movements the Concerto reveals itself to be far from the traditional model of soloist accompanied by orchestra. Rather better to think of it as a symphony with piano obligato. The passages of most phenomenal technical difficulty are not when the pianist plays alone nor in predominance but when the orchestra takes the lead, for instance in the fourth movement All’ italiana, possibly the most fiendish tarantella in all of music. Similarly, the off-stage chorus in the fifth movement is there ‘to add a new register to the sonorities which precede it’, as Busoni wrote. 

All of which could leave the reader thinking, Well, why bother? That question was put to bed so decisively last night that I doubt anyone present could have difficulty answering. The effect of this piece when performed with such commanding virtuosity and ravishing musicality as Grosvenor achieved, matched with an orchestra playing as though they’d never have a chance to perform again, was unlike that of any concert I’ve ever attended. Not only the emotions engendered by the music, which were deep, but the sheer physical thrill of seeing soloist, conductor, orchestra and choir working at such a pitch of concentration towards achieving what Busoni demands. 

As a celebration of Busoni’s life and work, it could not be bettered. As a concert experience, it will not be forgotten. 

Rachmaninoff – Symphonic Dances, Op. 45

Busoni – Piano Concerto, Op. XXXIX

Benjamin Grosvenor piano

Rodolfus Choir

London Philharmonic Choir

London Philharmonic Orchestra

Edward Gardner conductor