Who is fiddling while Rome burns? Belgium’s Queen Elisabeth International Music Competition tells us
As readers of these pages know full well, the world is going to hell as daily escalations in the Ukraine conflict bring us ever closer to Armageddon, at which point this Newsletter, and not only this Newsletter, will be toast, as they say.
Nonetheless, in spite of it all, in a small country called Belgium tradition elbowed out the concerns of geopolitical news for the month or so that the initial, semi-final and finals of the 2024 Queen Elisabeth International Music Competition have been held, with the six days of the finals televised, radio disseminated and featured on the first pages of Belgian newspapers.
The Belgian queen who is by tradition the patron of the competition sat in the royal box each evening accompanied either by her husband, King Philippe, or her 16 year old daughter Eléanor or by another close relative. The audience in this bitterly divided country – divided between Flemings and Walloons, between monarchists and republicans – rose as one at the entrance and departure of the royals from the hall. The Competition, alongside the national debt, is clearly an important contributing adhesive binding this country together.
In what follows, I will introduce readers to some relevant historical notes about the Competition, say something about the quality of this year’s competitors, which was extraordinarily high, and conclude with remarks on how and where international geopolitics finally and conclusively intruded even here on this inner sanctum of culture when the candidate from Ukraine, Dmytro Udovychenko was awarded first prize last night
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But first, before moving on, I will be forthright and say that from the very beginning I was curious to see how the national identities of the candidates in this competition would play out given the highly politicized atmosphere of the day, when Europe contemplates entering into full-blown war with Russia.
Indeed, considering the results of the initial round before the public that narrowed the competition to 12 semifinalists, I was prepared to write an essay on that very subject a week ago when both Russian candidates still in the running, Dmitry Smirnov and Leonid Zhelezny, whose performances I heard, were not selected while candidates flying the flag of Kazakhstan (Ruslan Talas ) and of Ukraine (Dmytro Udovychenko) advanced to the final round. Given the superior musicianship of Smirnov, in particular, which I will explain in a moment, at first impression it seemed that the kind of ‘de-colonization’ of Russia that social scientists at Columbia and other American universities dream about was being realized here in little Belgium.
However, upon doing some investigation in web search about Smirnov, after hearing a fellow candidate whom I by chance encountered at a brasserie accompanied by a member of his Belgian host family call Smirnov’s behavior inside the competition ‘ridiculous’ for reasons I will not go into here, I concluded then that my first thoughts were unjustified, and that Smirnov at age 30 was simply too old and too set in his eccentric ways to go through to the finals: his best days had been in 2007 and 2008, when he won a number of international prizes. Both he and Zhelezny were between 5 and 8 years older than other candidates.
This was a disappointing reality, because in the round where I heard him, Smirnov was the only candidate who had managed to perform from memory the required new piece of music for recital while the others played from scores, and he was the only one to turn the notes into real, high quality music, where others were stymied but nonetheless were passed through.
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The reason for my giving a bit of history of the Queen Elisabeth Music Competition below is not arbitrary. I do so because this history is closely linked to Russia and Russians. The first laureate of the first violin competition (1937) happened to be David Oistrakh. The first winner of the first piano competition (1938) was Emil Gilels. And so it continued for decades that Soviet (Russian) candidates were a major presence in the competition all the way through to finalists.
My personal experience of this was my acquaintance in Brussels in the 1990s with the 1967 first prize winner, violinist Philippe Hirschhorn, who came from Riga and completed his advanced studies in the Leningrad (now St Petersburg) Conservatory.
If you go to the search box of youtube.com and enter his name, you can hear his performance of the ‘Sauret’ cadenza from the Paganini Concerto No. 1 that clinched his victory in 1967. Hirschhorn turned into spirited and brilliant music what had for generations been considered by most musicians as just a very, very difficult set of exercises.
In 1967, Philippe came in first, and fellow candidate from Riga, Gidon Kremer, whom many of you will know well, came in second. Kremer went on to make a brilliant career. He gives concerts. He has his own Kremerata Baltica ensemble. Philippe, sadly, had a mediocre career as soloist on the international stage. He was most successful in Japan and Australia, less so in Europe, where he became a teacher, and not at all successful in the United States. He had been intimidated in the USSR by the Party interference in music making: if you crossed them, your concert venues would be set in Eastern Siberia. And so he defected, did not return to the USSR, but soon found that in the West there are other goal keepers. In his case, his future was condemned when he refused to take instructions from Isaac Stern, who dominated entirely the American musical world for violin for several decades, and left his temporary refuge in Israel, which Stern insisted upon, to settle in Belgium.
I mention Philippe here, because friendship with him was the closest I have ever come to living genius, and it gave me a good insight into what makes first class musicians, both in the positive and in the negative senses.
If I may return to my main ‘historical’ narrative, the oversized role of Russian musicians in the Queen Elisabeth competition came to an end in the 1990s when, amidst the economic and political chaos of the Yeltsin years, many musicians, including many professors from the conservatories emigrated abroad. In this very time we witnessed the Rise of the East, as each year there was an ever greater influx of young Asian musicians to compete for global and Belgian musical awards.
That trend has continued unabated up to the present day. Apart from the two Russians who never made it to the semifinals, let alone the finals, the only trace of past Russian glory in this year’s competition was the presence on the 12-man jury of Vadim Repin, the great Russian violinist and 1989 Queen Elisabeth first prize winner at the then youngest ever age of 17.
But whereas Koreans, Chinese, Japanese were unimpressive in the 1990s, shall we say too ‘correct,’ too ‘impersonal’ to be true soloists and to be interesting for the concert going public, what we saw these past weeks was a wholly different story. Out of the 12 finalists this year, 10 are of Asian derivation even if 4 of them fly the flag of their adopted country (USA), and they all are superb, mature musicians with highly individual personalities and approaches to the compositions.
As a further word of praise for these candidates, I hasten to add that from their interviews given to journalists attached to the Competition and aired on Belgium’s Channel Three, it is very pleasant to see that among them there are true humanists. Their profound appreciation of the human condition, of our emotions as written into the structure of musical compositions is a stern rebuke to those who think music is amoral or neutral.
This year’s violin competition also hammered home the conclusion that the United States has become the leading training center for the world’s best young talent in classical music. Most of the Queen Elisabeth finalists have studied at the Julliard, the Curtis School or the New England School of Music.
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When the jury delivered its verdict just after midnight last night, first prize went to a Ukrainian whose training abroad has been in Germany. Perhaps that is just a detail. More to the point, by my estimation he was not the best among the 12 or even second best. His rendition of the imposed piece fell flat and his rendition of the Shostakovich violin concerto was less personal and less intense than that of at least one of the three others who chose Shostakovich for their night on stage.
How can this choice be explained if not for the fact that politics trumps merit and prospects for a concert career among the jury and among the audience in the hall, which is also heavily tilted towards the social elites. Vdovychenko got a standing ovation from the hall. But so did the number two designated by the jury, the American Joshua Brown, and Brown, whose performance of the Brahms concerto was fabulous, is the one who carried off the Public Prize, which is based on call-in voting from the general public outside the hall, which may be assumed to be less upper crust.
I close these observations with the remark that if politics may have been a major consideration of the jury, it was not a consideration of the contestants in general and of Mr. Vdovychenko in particular.
In his televised interview he says openly that as an adolescent he adored Tchaikowsky, and he chose precisely a Tchaikowski piece for the recital part of the selection process. For the final round, he chose the Shostakovich concerto, and it was most interesting to hear his response to a question about his choice of that Russian composer from the journalists who interviewed him just after he performed. Vdovychenko said that the tragic opening movement of the piece and the successive movements which appear to be one’s struggle with life’s adversities leading to a happier times seemed appropriate for this day and age. Without saying it, he surely was referring to his nation’s tragedy. Very clever and persuasive. No ‘cancel culture,’ ‘cancel Russia’ on Mr. Vdovychenko’s mind.
At the same time, backchannels tell me that in the end, Vdovychenko refused to shake the hand of jury member Vadim Repin. As I say, geopolitics intrudes and intrudes everywhere.
By the way, Mr. Vdovychenko’s home town for the past three years is Essen, in Germany, not Kiev or Kharkov, where he first studied violin. We may say that in reality his homeland is the world, whatever flag of convenience he flies here and there.
©Gilbert Doctorow, 2024