Sibelius Complete Symphonies III

The Philharmonic Orchestra
Victoria Concert Hall
March 3

The third part of The Philharmonic Orchestra’s complete cycle of Finnish composer Jean Sibelius’ seven symphonies was a bit of unfinished business left over from the Covid-19 pandemic.

Having performed the first four symphonies in 2019, this final concert of the last three symphonies was originally scheduled for a date in March 2020, until the coronavirus intervened.

This was a classic case of “better late than never”, as the young musicians and their experienced music director Lim Yau, being four years older, were wiser as well.

While this orchestra may be considered “old hands” in Sibelius, having completed the first cycle in 2007 to 2008, there could not have been more than a handful of players from 16 years ago onstage this time around.

Symphony No. 5 In E Flat Major (Op.82) got off to a rocky start when French horns spilt the notes of the spread-out opening chord. The ship had to be steadied straight away, and the recovery was a nervy one.

With the end of the introduction and into the Allegro proper, an even keel was maintained. That was when the music broadened, along with a palpable sense of release from the earlier tension.

By the central slow movement, the ensemble was a well-oiled machine, creating the expectant atmosphere for the finale’s prestidigitation of strings and sonorous sequence of bell-like French horn chorales. The build-up to the valedictory close was also excellent, and the closing chords suitably emphatic.

Symphony No. 6 In D Minor (Op.104) followed after the intermission. For this least performed, least neurotic and most underrated of symphonies, the orchestra gave the best case possible. Its sunshine-filled opening was a showcase for high strings, and with the entry of woodwinds, the music radiated the warmth and clarity of fresh spring water in summer.

Despite the minor key, brass interjections and growling low strings, the optimistic vibes were unmistakable and undimmed. Lightness and litheness of textures were maintained through its four movements, up to the unassumingly hushed close.

As persuasive as the Sixth had been, it played out like a prelude to Symphony No. 7 In C Major (Op.105) that followed almost immediately. Arguably the consummation of Sibelius’ mastery of the symphonic form, its 22 minutes constituted the shortest symphony by far, but was also his longest unbroken single movement.

This paradox found fertile soil in the ever-resourceful minds of Lim and his charges. Something as mundane as its opening scale, rising from the depths, was made to sound vital. The dissonances and ambiguous tonality kept the mind guessing before finally brassily resolving in a reassuring C major. From there, the performance never looked back.

The scherzo-like central section, both agitated and playful, provided much-needed contrast before culminating in one almighty Mahlerian super-chord at the climax.

This ensemble showed exactly why Sibelius never brought out an eighth symphony. Seldom has a final C major chord sounded this glorious or definitive, the perfect end to a near-perfect symphony cycle.