Ranging across the Romantic spectrum: ISO's Rachmaninoff and Tchaikovsky

 With the musical warmth making the Hilbert Circle Theatre cozy and welcoming, Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra patrons at Friday's first concert of the weekend could shrug off the frigid weather they had just escaped from temporarily. The contrast stirred memories of one of Robert Frost's most famous poems, "Fire and Ice."

Courtney Lewis worked this week with the ISO. 

The New England poet's lines pose the eventual triumph of both elements on equal terms, with fire being linked to desire, ice to hate. Without stretching that metaphorical breadth to the news from the Twin Cities (it's hard to resist entirely), there's a plausible application to the two works on the program, their significance, and how they were played under the skillful baton of guest conductor Courtney Lewis.

Hate as a force lies behind the difficult attractiveness of Tchaikovsky's "Manfred" Symphony, op. 58. Inspired by a Lord Byron poem well-known in the early 19th century, the work focuses on a solitary figure alone in the Alps who hates his life and the moral burden he carries. Nothing pleases him anymore; no human or natural beauty promises rescue in the glorious setting, where he lives in a castle. 

What oppresses him most is the guilt of incest, rooted in the poet's actual affair with his half-sister. The autobiographically based Manfred rejects all encounters, some of them supernatural: no visionary balm is available, and neither religion not the earthly joys of peasant life offer relief. Manfred's demise follows his conviction that he cannot deny his true nature. For the Romantics, that was heroism enough.

Four powerful movements trace this heroic, dismal story. For me, the "Manfred" Symphony stands, along with "Francesca da Rimini," above all of Tchaikovsky's efforts in symphonic form. It's as full of pictorial and dramatic riches as the great ballets and operas, with instrumental and technical virtuosity taking all challenges firmly in hand. They wear better with me than the six numbered symphonies.

"Manfred" Symphony is among a series of recordings the ISO made in the 1990s with music director Raymond Leppard on the Koss Classics label. Recently listening to it again, it seemed Leppard rather sold short the emotional expanse of the first movement (Lento lugubre) with a rather restrained account. But I don't want to dwell on that recording, which quickly moves more into Leppard's wheelhouse with the Mendelssohnian sprightliness of the second movement. "Vivace con spirito."

With Lewis having the good fortune to conduct a much more advanced ISO, that first movement had all the mixed emotions of world-weariness and surging anger that the composer poured into his conception of the Byronic hero. Much of the portraiture is assigned to the bass clarinet; it's no wonder that the first individual invited to stand as Lewis made his first curtain call was Samuel Rothstein. 

The second-movement scherzo showed off the excellent qualities, both solo and blended, of all the current ISO winds. The third movement, Andante con moto, brought forward much pastoral interplay throughout the ensemble. The finale, which rings all the symphonic bells of which Tchaikovsky was capable (including the solemnity of the harmonium), capped a concert sturdily balanced on landscapes of both fire and ice.

The concert's other work brought to Indianapolis' first acquaintance a Ukrainian-Australian piano soloist,

Alexander Gavrylyuk put his own stamp on Rach 3.

Alexander Gavrylyuk, for the evergreen Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto No. 3 in D minor. The work has caused several sensations over the years. It was the first in a series of hit RCA recordings made by Van Cliburn after his Cold War victory in the 1958 Tchaikovsky International Competition, a  triumph that got the Texas pianist a ticker-tape parade in New York City.  

In 1987, the work was again put at the pinnacle of pianistic challenges by the movie "Shine," the story of the mentally ill virtuoso David Helfgott. His performance was worth forgetting, but I'm forced to remember the reverential tones that John Gielgud, playing his teacher, adopted in saying "Rach 3" several times to indicate the concerto's Mount Everest status. No one has ever breathed the words "Rach 3" like Sir John.

Well, of course, there's more than a grain of truth in such a high status. The soloist is almost torturously busy throughout the work. In Friday's performance, Gavrylyuk was masterly in the high degree of polish and balanced sonority throughout. With Cliburn, he evidently preferred the long version of the first-movement cadenza. He applied delicacy in the relatively few places where it was of value, but his forceful playing had depth as well as sustained brilliance. 

The interpretation climaxed where it most needed to: near the very end, when a repeated drumming figure is shared by the pianist and full orchestra. Gavrylyuk was amazingly as loud as the orchestra; his ISO partners and he were like one instrument, drumming. The effect was stupendous. His choice of encore was exquisite: Rachmaninoff's gem of many facets, "Vocalise." 

The partnership of fire and ice can be enjoyed one more time, today at 5:30 p.m.