The Philadelphia Orchestra presents Emanuel Ax Performs Brahms

Watching Nézet-Séguin shoulder this Herculean task—first at Carnegie Hall in New York, then at the Kimmel Center here in Philly—was a feat of stamina and resilience. But I never lost the sense that he was essentially fulfilling someone else’s vision. The idiosyncratic stamp he can put on a repertory classic was largely absent—understandable given the abbreviated rehearsal time, but rather disappointing nonetheless.

So I jumped at the chance to hear Nézet-Séguin take on Symphony No. 3 in F Major and Symphony No. 4 in E Minor over the course of a weekend at Marian Anderson Hall, this time with his own Philadelphia Orchestra. Call it a half-marathon.

A distinctly personal Third

Heard on November 2, the Third Symphony bore a distinctly personal stamp. Nézet-Séguin deleted the rests between movements, creating the impression of a musical narrative ever hurtling forward, sometimes at an inexorable pace. He underlined a menacing quality in the F-A-F chords that open the first and last movements, as if to question the motto that Brahms claimed to represent: “Frei aber froh” (Free but happy). As the piece was written in a period of romantic obsession for the composer, it’s possible to interpret a sense of chafing against that individualist mindset.

Brisk tempos defined the first two movements, which made for a welcome respite when the Poco allegretto arrived, its ravishing theme emerging from the cellos at a relaxed pace. First chairs in the brass and woodwind sections each had moments in the sun, particularly the clarinet solo that introduces the Andante theme, as played by Ricardo Morales. Nézet-Séguin skillfully managed to restrain the outsize expression of each movement to a gentle, refined conclusion. Brahms’s Third doesn’t seem to be a favorite of many, with its intentions occasionally hard to grasp, but here it came off with excitement and depth.

Deep familiarity

The Fourth Symphony (heard October 30) sounded a touch more conventional, although Nézet-Séguin once again played with structure, acknowledging just a single rest between the second and third movements. He plunged passionately into the opening movement, establishing an atmosphere of brawn and heft in music that can sometimes seem lachrymose. The brass played on top form throughout the symphony, complementing the luscious strings, and the fourth-movement passacaglia ended things on a powerful, assured note. Nézet-Séguin conducted both the Third and the Fourth from memory, suggesting deep familiarity and the firm grasp of his intentions.

Ax’s evolution

This string of performances—which also included a visit to Carnegie Hall on Halloween—were notable for more than just the Brahms. They also celebrated the 50th anniversary of pianist Emanuel Ax’s debut with the Orchestra. Ax chose to mark the occasion with a performance of Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 3 in C Minor, a work he’s played for nearly as long as his association with the Philadelphians.

This was a case where attending multiple performances over the course of a run proved beneficial in charting the development of an interpretation. On Thursday evening, Ax seemed tentative in the forceful cadenza of the opening movement, occasionally overwhelmed by Nézet-Séguin’s charging orchestral accompaniment. He didn’t fully come into his own until the elegant Largo, but the playing overall, while flawless, retained a curiously reserved quality. By Sunday afternoon, Ax and the orchestra were firing on all cylinders, and the conclusion of the Allegro con brio was undeniably explosive. He received generous, appreciative applause—even Nézet-Séguin comically bowed at his feet.

Rediscovering William Grant Still

In recent years, the Philadelphians have turned their attention back to William Grant Still, a worthy composer from the mid-20th century. Principal librarian Nicole Jordan and former assistant conductor Austin Chanu spearheaded a restoration of the original five-movement score of Still’s Wood Notes, which received its subscription premiere here. Inspired by the pastoral poetry of Joseph Mitchell Pilcher, who was almost Still’s exact contemporary, the work proved fascinating and instantly agreeable in the version heard at Marian Anderson Hall.

The opening Singing River initially shimmered with tranquility before introducing a bluesy undercurrent, and the witty, rushing triplets of Autumn Night reminded me of the spritely Mercury movement in Gustav Holst’s The Planets. Moon Dusk established a fierce dialogue between winds, brass, and strings that often took the listener to unexpected places. Whippoorwill’s Shoes emerged with an ebullient character and characterful use of Black and African folk-dance traditions like juba and cakewalk. The newly restored conclusion, Theophany, balanced the religious quietude suggested by the name with a welcome grandeur. A recording of the complete score is definitely in order.