German music triumphant: ISO brings in two stunning guest artists

George Li didn't shy away from Beethoven's imperial breadth. 

Compositional nicknames are inevitably grafted onto works that are formally known by type, key, and opus number. Even the knowledgeable segment of the public wants a word or phrase to hang onto. So, from the "Moonlight" sonata to the Symphony of a Thousand, the labeling identifiers persist. 

The origin of such nicknames is sometimes obscure and often lacks the composer's stamp of approval. The eminent British essayist Donald Francis Tovey opened his concise scrutiny of Beethoven's Piano Concerto E-flat, op. 73, with this brush-off: "From the history of the 'Eroica' we know how Beethoven would have appreciated the vulgar title by which this concerto is known in the British Isles. So we will say no more about that, but attend to the music." 

In the English-speaking world  the nickname "Emperor" has spread beyond Tovey's homeland, and the musicologist's first phrase alludes to the composer's tearing up the title page of his Third Symphony to remove an explicit reference to Napoleon Bonaparte. Praise for empires played no role in Beethoven's political opinions. Of course the word "appreciate" is used in its original meaning of "to grasp the nature, worth, quality or significance of."  That's as much parsing as Tovey's introductory paragraph deserves.

It's no cavil I intend, nonetheless, when I praise  George Li's performance of the Fifth Piano Concerto as rightly imperial in breadth and command. From the opening outburst on, the pianist spread his wings, signaling Beethoven's decisive burst away from all manner of classicism. Guest conductor Fabien Gabel managed the orchestral accompaniment in a sympathetic way. The ISO, well-prepared to represent the spirit of German romanticism in the program's first half with selections from Engelbert Humperdinck's "Koenigskinder" and the Prelude and Liebestod from Richard Wagner's "Tristan und Isolde," was properly invigorated and majestic.

Li's bright sonority and crisp, trenchant octaves dominated. In the first movement, I would have liked the descending, chromatic left-hand counterpoint to come out more to reinforce the soloist's assertive interpretation. There was certainly expressive variety to be admired: In the second movement, Li's phrasing was exemplary, with the weight well-distributed. That Adagio un poco moto confirmed the well-knit partnership between keyboard and podium, with precisely placed, firm-toned pizzicati drawn from the strings. 

French maestro Fabien Gabel 

Forceful but rhythmically agile statements of the main dance theme in the finale crowned the performance, and when the rhythm turns subtle with a brief series of timpani strokes, everything pointed toward the brilliant sweep of the final measures. Called back for an encore by a tumultuous ovation, Li put his bold signature on the stormy Transcendental Etude No. 10 of Franz Liszt.

Gabel's initial appearance on the Hilbert Circle Theatre podium  showed his deftness in little-known repertoire. This time the vehicle was Humperdinck's lesser-known operatic masterpiece, "Koenigskinder." Anyone who has seen the more familiar "Hansel and Gretel" is likely to be struck by the thick-textured sophistication of the score for what can be readily taken as a family-friendly opera. Humperdinck's latter-day absorption of the Wagnerian esthetic is both tangible and personal.

The fanfare dominance in the "Koenigskinder" overture had depth and pungency. The cheerful crowd evocation in the Introduction to Act II lightened the gravitas. And Friday's performance of the Introduction to Act III,  the foreshadowing of the opera's sad ending, with Humperdinck's own assimilation of "love-death" significance, was graced by Jennifer Christen's plaintive oboe solo. The horn section's chorale-like statement of the title couple's demise, with the harp linking its phrases, yielded to a suggestion of bliss beyond death, capped by lovely woodwinds. 

Best of all was the magisterial handling of the original of this sort of thing in the Wagner landmark, which famously stretched tonality into new expressive territory. Tempos and balances had a seamless continuity from the start — the cellos whispering the consequential tragedy to come in the ultimate operatic portrayal of forbidden yet inevitable love — right to the protracted ending, settling down in some respects, yet still intense. In this program, to be repeated at 5:30 this afternoon, the Prelude and Liebestod is well positioned just before the audience is allowed to catch its breath with intermission.