Night Two of The Israel Philharmonic Orchestra at Carnegie Hall

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Parent Category: Film and the Arts

Category: Reviews

Published on Tuesday, 04 November 2025 14:59

Written by Jack Angstreich

Lahav Shani, photo by Stephanie Berger

At the invaluable Stern Auditorium, on the night of Thursday, October 16th, I had the privilege to attend a wonderful concert—the second of three in the same week—presented by Carnegie Hall and featuring the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra under the accomplished direction of Lahav Shani.

The event started memorably with an admirable account of Leonard Bernstein’s seldom played Halil from 1981, which affords some of the pleasures of his more popular—and populist—scores. The composer commented on the piece as follows:

This work is dedicated to “the spirit of Yadin and to his fallen brothers.” The reference is to Yadin Tanenbaum, a 19-year-old Israeli flutist who, in 1973, at the height of his musical powers, was killed in his tank in the Sinai. He would have been 27 years old at the time this piece was written.

Halil (the Hebrew word for “flute”) is formally unlike any other work I have written but is like much of my music in its struggle between tonal and non-tonal forces. In this case, I sense that struggle as involving wars and the threat of wars, the overwhelming desire to live, and the consolations of art, love, and the hope for peace. It is a kind of night-music which, from its opening 12-tone row to its ambiguously diatonic final cadence, is an ongoing conflict of nocturnal images: wish-dreams, nightmares, repose, sleeplessness, night-terrors, and sleep itself, Death’s twin brother.

I never knew Yadin Tanenbaum, but I know his spirit.

Comparable in rarity was the next piece, Paul Ben-Haim’s unsung, here compellingly performed Symphony No. 1, Op. 25, a worthy, if maybe not consistently extraordinary, work. In a note on the program, Oded Shnei-Dor explains:

“The moment I conducted my first symphony with the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra (IPO) was the moment I felt like an Israeli composer,” stated Paul Ben-Haim in an interview towards the end of his life.

Written in 1939 and 1940 during the tumultuous events in Europe, the composer affirmed that: “The terrible forces of destruction which tore the ground from under our feet could not fail to leave their stamp on my work … In spite of this, my work is ‘pure’ and ‘absolute’ music.” The annotator adds that:

In a short lecture to celebrate its commercial recording, [Ben-Haim] said, “This is not simple music. Definitely not. Far from it. However, it is not complex. One has to hear to listen. If you like it—that’s good. If you don’t like it—that’s also good, as you can enjoy extraordinary orchestral playing.”

The initial, Allegro energico movement begins stormily, although a more expansive section—reminiscent of Jean Sibelius—soon follows, succeeded by a quieter, more enigmatic, somewhat premonitory episode; more turbulent, dramatic music eventually returns which, after another subdued passage, becomes a powerful march that concludes abruptly. On the ensuing, lovely Molto calmo e cantabile, Shnei-Dor records that:

The musical material of the movement is derived from “I lift up my eyes to the mountains,” a popular song from the repertoire of Bracha Zefira, a singer that Ben-Haim accompanied for a decade.

Appropriately lyrical, the music intensifies, although it soon recovers a more reflective, even pastoral, ethos, ending softly. About the finale, marked Presto con fuoco, the annotator remarks:

The first theme originates from Joram, Ben-Haim’s largest composition from his time in Germany. The second theme is a syncopated hora, the Israeli national dance, which is played heroically at the end of the symphony.

It opens propulsively and maintains a sense of suspense, building to a triumphant close.

The second half of the evening was even stronger, consisting in a superb version of Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s magnificent Symphony No. 5 in E Minor, Op. 64, written in 1888, a work that, interestingly, he deemed “a failure,” adding that: “There is something repellent in it, some over-exaggerated color, some insincerity of fabrication which the public instantly recognizes.” The first movement’s Andante   introduction is soulful and poignant; its Allegro con anima main body is, as would be expected, more spirited and dynamic, with moments of pure Romanticism, and it finishes gently. The next movement—its tempo is Andante cantabile, con alcuna licenza—starts with an exquisite horn solo and is indeed song-like—it contains some of the composer’s most beautiful music, reaching a stunning climax that ushers in an elaborate coda, and concluding very quietly. The following Valse, marked Allegro moderato, is indeed dance-like, relatively effervescent and radiant with charm, although it ends with some suddenness. The Andante maestoso introduction to the Finale is stately, while the bulk of the Allegro vivace movement is exultant and exuberant, indeed thrilling, closing forcefully and affirmatively. Enthusiastic applause elicited a delightful encore: Felix Mendelssohn’s Three Songs, arranged by Shani.