I went, I saw, I enjoyed

London and the San Francisco Bay Area Peninsula share certain traits of culture. Despite a continent and an ocean apart, both hold special affinity for performing arts, the apex of which is classical music. Being one of the most sophisticated corners of the country, the Peninsula populace overly prizes classical music.

Built in the Victoria era of the 19th century, London’s Albert Hall bridges from the bygone times to today via performing arts. It is not merely a tourist attraction, but a place to marvel the history of a century and a half of culture. Its grand architecture, large audience space and captivating ambiance exemplify a majesty to benefit London for ages.

Peninsula residents consider San Francisco Davies Symphony Hall their own. The stunning Stanford Bing Concert Hall also caters to their insatiable appetite for classical music. Whereas smaller and newer built for the modern era, both venues offer worthy comparands to Albert Hall.

For visitors, Albert Hall is inviting.  It may appear intimidating, with all its history and legacy, but then the warmth and charm of the place sink in quickly. It is a timeless and tasteful reminder that some precious historical grandeur can indeed endure and pass the test of time.

Brahms Symphony No. 2 uniquely befits Albert Hall.  He composed that symphony in 1877, six years after the completion Albert Hall in 1871. Both reflect that era. The adherence to the classical forms and structures defined that period. Idealism ruled, and neorealism of the early 20th century was in the distant future.  

The performance that I saw was delivered to perfection. The symphony follows the traditional principles in four movements: two allegros at the beginning and end, with an adagio and an allegretto in between. Brahms called it a sad symphony. Over time though, it has grown to be known as happy. It is a deeply moving music that takes the listener through a range of emotions. Maybe it is a joyful melancholy, not as contradiction in terms, but more as balancing opposite emotions.       

This symphony is often compared to Beethoven’s Symphony No. 6. However, unlike Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony that starts with a cheerful and melodic allegro, Brahm’s opening allegro is mysterious and settled. Brahms then gradually takes up the tempo, but only in intervals. That gives it a merriment flavor.

The adagio of the second movement, in contrast with the first, is reflective and melancholy. This adagio non troppo (slow, but not too much) brings about solipsistic introspection. The mind wanders into sorrow. Maybe that’s why Brahms thought of his work as sad.

Then the following allegretto in the third movement brilliantly lightens up the mood slowly, methodically and whimsically. It breaks from the previous movement, and replaces the melancholy with playful segments each having a different tempo. The woodwind instruments dominate on occasions, and the transition to string instruments is masterful. Yet it puts lots of pressure on the conductor to guide the orchestra through those transitions, particularly considering that the tempo is significantly varying.

After that comes the last movement and its incredibly powerful finale. The only critique I had of the performance was that the passage from the third movement to the fourth was rushed, instead of a more aptly-modulated changeover. This allegro con spirito (with energy) is fast, exciting, and leads to a triumphant conclusion of the symphony. It is a victory of jubilation over sorrow. Did Brahms himself perceive that, or did he not forget the second movement and its gloominess, hence called it a sad work of his? Brahms was a perfectionist. While others might consider the fourth movement as repudiation of sadness, he most likely thought the fourth movement was not enough to overcome that.  

After the performance, I reflected on what I saw and enjoyed, and the venue. My immediate thought was that the Peninsula needs a world-class grand symphony hall of its own. The Peninsula houses some of the most affluent companies and people in the nation. I don’t see money as an issue, but the resolve to chase that money and create such a concert hall.

German philosopher Friedrich Nietzche, a contemporary of Brahms, said, “Without music, life would be a mistake.” Nothing can bring the community together like classical music, uniting different strata of the society. Having our own first-rate concert hall here will create an opportunity to elevate the life and spirit of many continually.

Jahan Alamzad is a management consultant and lives in San Carlos.