A meltingly beautiful adagio had Bellincampi almost physically embracing its long and unruffled phrases, ensuring a heavenly stillness when Melnikov, with a jeweller’s precision, laid out his hauntingly mysterious harmonies.
The dashing dance of the final rondo also accommodated more wistful interludes of telling finesse, as well as some particularly vigorous fugal fun.
Melnikov was a cool customer, quelling unwanted applause at one point with just an admonishing finger. When the final bars of his encore - a lingering, soulful Brahms intermezzo - were brashly interrupted by a cellphone from the circle, he took a bow, with the hint of a smile, miming an imaginary smartphone in his right hand.
Four years ago I commented on how Bellincampi’s utter adoration of Brahms’ Symphony No. 2 came through both on his face and in the sweep of his hands as he effortlessly underlined the subtle rhythmic play of its joyous first movement.
On Thursday night, the maestro’s deep affection for this work had not lessened; indeed, one felt him striving to take us ever more deeply into its network of sometimes elusive themes.
In the adagio, I was aware of his expressive fingers reconciling gravitas and grace in one of Brahms’ finest slow movements; in the third, its pizzicato presto came across as an uncanny premonition of the scherzo from Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 4, written a year later.
The finale was encored at its first performance. On Thursday night, so infectious was its spirit of jubilation that many may have welcomed hearing its nine minutes once again.
