Louise Farrenc
Overture No. 2
Beethoven
Piano Concerto No. 2 in B flat major, Op. 19
Brahms
Symphony No. 4 in E minor, Op. 98
Martha Argerich (piano)
Munich Philharmonic
Lahav Shani
Reviewed by: David Gutman
Reviewed: 5 September, 2026
Venue: Royal Albert Hall, London
The ‘novelty’—to use Henry Wood’s historic term for unfamiliar fare—came first. The music of Louise Farrenc (née Jeanne-Louise Dumont; 1804–1875) was entirely absent from these concerts until 2024 when her Third Symphony and Overture No. 1 in E minor were finally programmed. Her companion Overture No. 2, of which Hector Berlioz was reportedly an admirer, likewise dates from the mid-1830s. It proved to possess the same brand of vim, vigour and anonymity. Quite what a Parisian Mendelssohn or Weber clone was doing tethered to this particular program is hard to say. Surely there are Bavarian-based composers whom it would have made more organic sense for this visiting orchestra to present.
The packed hall had, of course, turned out to see Martha Argerich. Inexplicably, it took nearly as long to wheel her piano onto the stage as it did to play the Farrenc overture. While it would be a treat to hear something entirely fresh from this legendary figure, she is now 85, making every live appearance a precious event. This latest iteration of a preferred concerto (which she has recorded commercially a dozen times and performed countless more) muted her customary assertiveness in the outer movements to deliver a deft and witty account, her touch exquisite. She was ably, if somewhat conservatively, accompanied by Lahav Shani and the Munich players. The reflective slow movement, dangerously slow, could not have been more genuinely hushed. The finale launched before its final note had expired, daring the players to keep up and the audience to hold its peace.
In fairness, most attendees listened with rapt attentiveness, though a few indulged in illicit photography. One neighbour even attempted to film the proceedings—a redundant as well as forbidden exercise given that the concert was being broadcast on BBC Four the following evening. I felt compelled to intervene when another patron began texting mid-performance during Beethoven’s finale. One wonders why they come at all. Is it solely to tick a living legend off a cultural bucket list? Unlike Krystian Zimerman, another titan vying for the mantle of the world’s greatest living pianist, Argerich does not seem unduly troubled by such distractions. Her image and music-making have been so widely pirated over the decades that a relaxed laissez-faire attitude is perhaps her only viable defence. The encore duly arrived: Shani joined her at the keyboard for a luminous if literal account of ‘The Fairy Garden’ from Ravel’s Mother Goose. It was just a shame about the persistent noises off, which on this occasion culminated in a loud, exasperated “For fuck’s sake!” from the box behind my perch as someone’s patience finally snapped.
After the interval, the Brahms was always going to feel anti-climactic, or at least less mercurial. This was a conventional, frankly rather dull reading—broadly paced and missing the inner intensity or rhythmic springiness associated with the great interpreters of the past. One could imagine Daniel Barenboim conducting it in this manner. The first movement was merely sensible, the second dignified, featuring some attractive woodwind solos and a grander string texture for the return of the second theme. The scherzo went well enough, but the passacaglia finale felt low-key, occasionally sluggish, deliberately plain-spoken, rather grey. However professional, the Munich band could not but sound lacklustre when compared to the Berlin Philharmonic, guests last week. An encore was nevertheless offered: Brahms’s Hungarian Dance No. 5, another piece originally written for piano four-hands and here invigorated by possibly the best orchestral playing of the night. Eschewing score and baton, Shani was otherwise less than kinetic.