Two weeks after its official reopening, visitors still wait patiently in the sleet for a glimpse of the new baroque interior of Dresden's reconstructed Frauenkirche. There is a smattering of tourists, but it is mostly locals who come, to gaze with a wonder that recalls the first Nativity. Unto us a church is born. Again.
Dresdeners worked hard to raise €100m (£69m) to turn the pile of rubble left by the allied bombings of 1945 back into the proud centerpiece of their city's historic heart. They did not work alone, and opening celebrations honour that fact. The twin city of Coventry has been important. America was lavish in its support. Sponsorship from the Dresden branch of Volkswagen, a company with its own complex wartime past, enabled the New York Philharmonic to present a series of concerts in the Frauenkirche.
For the first concert, fur coats and chauffeurs replaced the daytime crowds' anoraks and umbrellas. Clusters of bodyguards revealed the presence of politicians and industry leaders. But the mood of gentle astonishment at what has been achieved remained unchanged.
To mark the occasion, British composer Colin Matthews was commissioned to write a piece for German cellist Jan Vogler and the American orchestra. The result was Berceuse for Dresden, a keening lullaby that weaves the sounds of the Frauenkirche bells into an atmospheric wash of orchestral colours. Matthews has written with superb sensitivity for the resonant acoustic of the church and the joyous solemnity of the event. While the woodwind tones spiral heavenwards, the cello sounds close and intimate. Solo lines are simple and lyrical, recalling the chants of a Jewish cantor. The harmonic structure is based on the church's eight bells and their overtones, so that when the recorded sounds of the bells themselves emerge from the depths of the orchestra, the effect is subtle and strong.
Tubular bells and descending scales also feature prominently, evoking Arvo Pärt's Cantus in Memory of Benjamin Britten. An unconscious tribute to Matthews' former mentor? Perhaps. Britten's War Requiem joined German, Russian and British forces. Comparisons are ludicrous, since Britten wrote a piece of incompar-ably grander scale and greater historic significance, but the message of reconciliation remains pressing.
Vogler is a player of modesty, warmth, rational intelligence and solid tradition. All those attributes served him well in Schumann's cello concerto, of which he gave a measured and sanguine account. Maazel kept his orchestra down to the whispered dynamic levels necessary not to overwhelm the soloist.
While the Frauenkirche has been reconstructed, Maazel's romanticism has not. His accounts of both Weber's "Euryanthe" overture and Strauss's "Death and Transfiguration" showed a self-assured disdain for recent trends of scholarly re-appraisal in this repertoire. But what really told were Maazel's long years of experience and consummate technique, and the orchestra responded with uncomplicated professionalism. Together, their capacity to manipulate the advantages of a performance space vastly more resonant than any concert-hall was breathtaking. Never once did they push too far or lapse into incoherence.
Strauss's grand tone poem tells of a mortal artist's quest to attain immortal perfection. He reaches his goal through death, meeting the forces of the divine artistic ideal. It is a grand but fitting metaphor for Dresden's remarkable accomplishment.
