London Symphony Orchestra, Gergiev, Royal Albert Hall

On paper it was a perfect Monday night programme – Scriabin’s extravagant sprawl of a First Symphony and Stravinsky’s The Firebird in its roomy original ballet score. A pairing of youthful 20th-century Russians conducted by the 21st-century Russian. Barely recovered from Sunday’s sensuous binge of Mussorgsky, Shostakovich and Prokofiev, Gergiev and the LSO promised some welcome hair of the dog. Yet by the time the inevitable Proms standing ovation shifted to its feet something was still lacking; mellow we certainly were. Intoxicated? Not even close.

There’s something disarmingly sincere about Scriabin’s early music; wildly unfashionable melodies clad in blowsy musical lack-of-structures (I don’t buy the swollen Sonata Form analysis of the First Symphony) issue forth with a confidence that sweeps all demur aside. Surrender is the only option when faced with a creature like the Symphony No 1 – surrender, and a mind from which the delicate ironies and brutality of Stravinsky have been cleanly expunged.

It was evident from the start that Gergiev and the LSO were not inclined to indulge (even briefly) in Scriabin’s swirling textures and colours. An understated, business-like wash of strings set a backdrop for a clarinet solo – the first of many excellent outings through the evening – which refused to linger over its bluesy harmonies. The bucolic woodwind interjections which followed already felt overdone and out of place against such a lean approach (and the less said about the flute trio the better – not a great evening for this section).

We waited for the build through violin solo and string swell, and waited in vain. Holding his forces back with a restraint that persisted throughout the Allegro (not terribly) dramatico, Gergiev seemed determined to favour delicate glances over grand gestures. His was a pastel-coloured reading of what is very much a primary-coloured score, and one that merits the full palette of which he and the LSO are so frustratingly capable. We’ve heard some extreme dynamics at the lower end this Proms season; Mark Elder and AYO delivered some astonishing pianissimos, but while these were essentially fortissimos with the volume turned right down, those of the LSO risked unsupported weediness, with string chords often failing to balance against solo woodwind.

The final movement, with its last-minute choral entry and abortive tenor and soprano solos, is never easy to pull off. Spread across the full width of the Choir, the massed forces of the London Symphony Chorus gamely channelled intensity into the somewhat ponderous text, producing a warmth equalled by soloists Nadezhda Serdiuk and Sergei Skorokhodov. But even such extravagant forces were not enough to bring the satisfaction so long denied, the delayed release placing an unfair responsibility on Scriabin's misguided paean of a finale.

The Stravinsky that followed was a change of tone if not of pace. Following the aching sincerity of the Scriabin, Stravinsky’s fairytale – Rushdiean in its self-aware manipulations – seemed more poised than ever, its derivative musical elements secondary to its structural and thematic sophistication. Baggier than the composer’s various ballet suite arrangements, the original score also brings with it the challenge of balancing the swollen orchestra forces (including three harps), and pacing its rather more measured narrative.

Gergiev brought the same control and specificity to his approach that had shaped the Scriabin; but whereas the latter remained frustratingly unreleased, The Firebird at least was eventually allowed to build to a climax, bolstered by some emphatic percussion and additional brass reinforcements. I was charmed by the solemn grace of the Round Dance and almost convinced by the ferocity of the Infernal Dance, but not altogether won over. The LSO were accurate enough, dynamic enough, but just not exciting. The whole performance was a drama viewed through a gauze curtain, muted and dulled by its delicate interference.

This could have (should have) been among the best of this year’s orchestral Proms – a chance for an orchestra and conductor steeped in this colourful Russian repertoire to seduce us with their magic tales. There was no shortage of intelligence, nor of musicianship from Gergiev and the LSO, but equally none of the immediacy they are so capable of conjuring. Gergiev is a conductor who places a calculated musical bet every time he steps onto the podium; this was just one of those times it failed to pay off. 

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