Midori joins the BSO to illuminate Takemitsu and Dvořák
Midori’s refined artistry was evident in Dvořák’s Violin Concerto in A minor
PHOTO BY MICHAEL J. LUTCH, COURTESY OF THE BSO
Takemitsu’s Requiem for strings, Dvořák’s Violin Concerto in A minor, Dvořák’s Symphony No. 7
Boston Symphony Orchestra
Conducted by Nodoka Osikawa
Featuring Midori Goto on violin
Boston Symphony Hall
Nov. 6 – Nov. 8, 2025
On Saturday, Nov. 8, the Boston Symphony Orchestra (BSO) performed Takemitsu’s Requiem for strings, Dvořák’s Violin Concerto, and Dvořák’s Seventh Symphony with violinist Midori Goto (known as Midori). Japanese conductor Nodoko Osikawa, mentored by BSO music director and Midori’s longtime collaborator Seji Ozawa, made her BSO debut leading this program, the first in a series examining Dvořák’s last three symphonies (No. 7, 8, 9).
Written for a divided string orchestra, Requiem began the concert with Takemitsu’s ominous sound and homophonic texture. The split parts, moving in tense intervals, created distinct, uneasy dissonances.
Takemitsu wrote the piece when he was very ill, later admitting he composed it thinking it might even serve as his own eulogy.
Unfortunately, the BSO’s dynamics felt compressed, sounding flat despite the long crescendos and decrescendos that define the piece’s motion as the rise and fall of a living breath. These continuous changes in dynamics seek to imitate the quiet respiration of a singer. Takemitsu described this single-note undulation as a “river of sound,” a single current that unites all tones. Thus, dynamics are arguably a crucial component to Requiem that the orchestra did not honor. The piece’s ABA form (Lent–Modéré–Lent) mirrors a similar impermanence of these breaths. The BSO executed this well, however, by beginning and ending the piece softly with centered growth. There were also countless other moments of beauty: for example, the solo viola’s tone was resonant and expressive. While the BSO only partially conveyed the speechless poignancy Takemitsu intended, they maintained precise pitch and balance.
In contrast, Midori’s entrance in Dvořák’s Violin Concerto was quite commanding. Written for the great violinist Joseph Joachim, Midori upheld the legacy of the concerto through her clarity and control. The orchestra’s solid opening established the concerto’s vigor, but it wasn’t until Midori joined when the atmosphere truly shifted; her tone was crisp and stunning. Every slide felt intentional, and her variations in vibrato speed and width enhanced her melodic lines. Though she was noticeably overpowered by the orchestra, especially when the brass surged, her sound maintained a sharp edge. Midori’s attacks were remarkable as she began chords off the string, and her octave passages were astonishingly secure. The orchestra occasionally lagged behind her. Her tone, perhaps because it was so bright, felt tuned to a higher pitch frequency than the orchestra’s.
In Allegro ma non troppo, Midori seamlessly shifted from fierce to romantic passages, her line floating as she approached each phrase patiently. The piccolo’s interjections were bright and appropriate, but the trumpet overpowered her quieter passages. By the finale, the orchestra and the soloist found a nice balance. Her spiccato was energetic, and her melodic duets with the first violins were memorable. The violas were unfortunately covered by the brass, but the performance sustained tension through the final accelerando.
Midori’s encore, the “Preludio” from Bach’s Partita No. 3 in E Major, was stellar. She played without vibrato, and each note was precise and even, drawing in every audience member of the hall with the span of her bow and a lighthearted atmosphere.
The concert ended with Dvořák’s Symphony No. 7. The Poco Adagio unfolded with quiet grace, the orchestra eventually settling into a blended sonority. The opening viola pizzicatos were hard to hear, but the cellos compensated with a warm tune. The brass choir soared with balance and resonance without overdoing it, while the timpani stood out by adding depth. The violins often dominated the texture, causing the violas to struggle for presence again. When the first violin soli emerged near the end, it was beautiful, carrying the perfect amount of vibrato. The orchestra grew increasingly cohesive as the movement progressed, and in particular, entrances on off-beats solidified.
The Scherzo came alive instantly, rhythmic and buoyant, which was one of the evening’s highlights. Dvořák’s furiant rhythm, a constant shift between the duple and triple meters, was handled well. The movement had an almost dreamlike propulsion, though balance remained an issue — the trombones occasionally overpowered the strings. The finale began with somber weight as the orchestra followed the cellos through the opening phrase with slight hesitation before finding a confident tempo. A brass fanfare clarified the rhythmic structure, and from that point, the orchestra was remarkably put together. The timpani’s transitions were thrilling, and the dotted-eighth rhythm that unified the symphony was well articulated. As the movement drove toward its D-major resolution, the entire ensemble seemed to breathe together.
Overall, the concert quickly shifted from Takemitsu’s Requiem to Dvořák’s repertoire. There were multiple issues of balance across these pieces, but it’s unclear whether this problem is the fault of the performance hall or the orchestra. Despite these flaws, Nodoka Osikawa’s clear direction and Midori’s refined artistry shaped a memorable evening of stunning and charismatic performance.