The concert’s high point came in Paul Hindemith’s 1922 Suite, music from an era when the composer’s icy, ironic, dry-point manner was given further thrust by his passing fascination with the newfangled American jazz then inundating European sensibilities. This whole edgy, athletic side of Hindemith — embodied also in his second and third quartets and in his Chamber Concerto — goes neglected while revivals of his dense, Brahms-infested Mathis der Maler pretend to celebrate his greatness. They don’t.
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