Tempered Bernstein & Noble Rachmaninoff

Theonfanidis-ON THE BRIDGE OF THE ETERNAL; Bernstein-SYMPHONY #1, "Jeremiah"*; Rachmaninoff-PIANO CONCERTO #3 in D minor**: Kelley O'Connor*; Sir Stephen Hough*/Atlanta Symphony Orchestra/Robert Spano, cond.; May 2, 2026

Atlanta Symphony subscribers gave a warm welcome to Music Director Emeritus Robert Spano (above) but turned a cold shoulder to the first work on his return program with the ASO. Christopher Theofanidis' On the Bridge of the Eternal is a 17-minute symphonic movement for large orchestra, inspired by "The Confessions of St. Augustine." It deserved much better than the polite applause it received.

Stark timpani strokes remiscent of Aaron Copland's Fanfare for the Common Man open the piece, but thereafter Theofanidis (above) is his own man. The proclamatory beginning gives way to sliding, tremolando harmonies in the strings, over which a striding brass theme emerges. An extensive development section leads eventually to hushed, misterioso segment from which the march reasserts itself. After a thundering peroration punctuated by bells, stabbing chords from trumpets and strings conclude this stunning work.

Theofanidis cannot only orchestrate to a fare-thee-well, he is clearly a composer to whom more attention is warranted. It's difficult to imagine On the Bridge of the Eternal being better performed than by Spano and the Atlantans, and one hopes it is heard again and soon.

Theofanidis' work made a very apt lead-in for Leonard Bernstein's First Symphony ("Jeremiah"), inspired by the horrors of Kristallnacht. It's a piece chock-full of expression but Spano seemed determined to keep Bernstein's heart-on-sleeve emotions at arm's length. The reading was incredibly well-organized but a degree of passion was missing. Still, the Roy Harris-like, long-spanned melodies of the first movement emerged capably, even if the Hassidic lilt of the lengthy scherzo was less than infectious. Bernstein's music should make one dance but Spano had clearly left his dancing shoes at home. Kelley O'Connor's keening of the last-movement lament provided a strong close for the rendition.

Heart-on-sleeve emoting and the Sergei Rachmaninoff (above) Third Piano Concerto are no strangers to each other, yet something different might be expected from the peerless Sir Stephen Hough—and he delivered. He demonstrated that what the composer called his piano concerto "for elephants" could also yield to lapidary grace. This was evident from the opening melody, infused with dignified, even monastic phrasing. Make no mistake: Hough had the chops to meet Rachmaninoff on his own terms, relishing the motoric rhythms, his hands seemingly all over the keyboard at one in the Russian's hyperactive writing. He even strove to out-Van Cliburn in the first-movement cadenza.

But for the most part, Hough looked inward for the concerto's soul, delving into a deep (and dare one say neglected?) vein of poetry, especially in the finale's flute-solo interlude. Hough asserted himself when needed but wasn't above accompanying the orchestra when the music called for it. He didn't resist the obvious temptation to rhapsodize in the second and third movements, but kept it within the framework of his thoughtful conception. Hough (below) might not bring the sheer, ursine power of an Alexander Toradze, say, but his soulful approach proved no less thrilling.

Spano cosseted Hough on a warm bed of ASO strings but didn't overindulge, either. He and his soloist were out to bring something forth refreshingly different: Rachmaninoff with nobility. The audience's response at the final chords was instantaneous and cathartic. Hough answered with a Chopin encore (one of the Nocturnes) that was no less full of heart as well as virtuoso ability, so hauntingly phrased that it brought a tear to my eye.

Spano returns to the Woodruff Center podium May 7 and 8 with a program of Hector Berlioz's Harold in Italy and Bernstein's Symphony #2, "The Age of Anxiety." It should not be missed.