St. Petersburg Philharmonic Displays a Wealth of Spirit

One of the most thrilling things about the St. Petersburg Philharmonic is the way its musicians push the envelope of their abilities and play on the edge of their instruments’ capabilities.

The results are wailing bassoons and hectoring horns, shrieking clarinets and intimidating double basses, a big, fat, vibrating trumpet sound and a violin section with blood in its veins. This orchestra probably makes more miscues than any other great orchestra, but it comes with this territory of daring.

With its music director, Yuri Temirkanov, the orchestra offered music by Shostakovich, Mahler and Sergei Slonimsky on Tuesday night in the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. The results were mixed, with the proviso that one was always awed by the sound of this ensemble.

Shostakovich’s Ninth Symphony gave plenty of opportunity for instrumental display and conductorial playfulness. The impish and oafish humor of the score--an expectant theme that flips a U-turn; a doom-and-gloom buildup that resolves to circus band banality--sometimes went missing in this delectable, virtuosic and headlong performance, but it hardly mattered. Woodwind solos sparkled with character.

Mahler’s First Symphony unfolded in all its sonic splendor--the clarity, depth and richness of the colors delivered beauty enough in themselves. In fact, the performance seemed calculated for this show of wealth, and climaxes raised the roof with their roar. They made one blink. Temirkanov made a show of his considerable, flexible control and posed heroically, but it all combined into something at once heavy-handed and a little less than Mahler’s First, or what we thought it was.

Slonimsky’s “Visions of St. Petersburg,” written for the current tour and dedicated to Temirkanov, began the evening. A nine-minute polystylistic work in the manner of Schnittke, “Visions” juxtaposes sweet melody with grating multiphonics, spare, dappled hues with agitated allegros and muscular fortes. It’s splashy and dramatic, nicely suited to these performers.

The concert was dedicated to Slonimsky’s late uncle, Nicolas, a Southern California resident who died Christmas Day. The encore was the mysterious Introduction to Rimsky-Korsakov’s “The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh.”