And then a dam burst. With Orozco-Estrada essentially dancing in front of the Philharmonic, the musicians responded with kinetic, swaying ensemble playing — crisp and full of jousting fervor. All this, before the first appearance of the work’s famous love theme, which under Orozco-Estrada’s was never rote in execution.
Less famous is Haydn’s First Cello Concerto, which was discovered only in 1961. On a 2015 recording of the piece, Moreau relishes in athleticism, teasing a Baroque sensibility. (It’s clear, after Wednesday, that this is his regular preference.) Trickier still is that, when pushing his limits in finger-busting ways, he seems to sacrifice nothing in the singing gracefulness of his intonation and phrasing.
In some higher-range passages, taken speedily, Moreau’s pushing of his limits resulted in stray, subtle infelicities; one bow stroke in the first movement produced a rare trace of unlovely sound. In the third movement, he looked displeased at the tail end of one brisk figure, shaking his head before recovering.
Most transporting was the middle-movement Adagio. Orozco-Estrada and the Philharmonic, game partners throughout, seemed to be on tenterhooks, listened attentively to Moreau’s beautiful playing. And, yes, there was some flash here, too: Moreau’s appoggiatura playing provided a stretch of incredible yearning directly before an exposed aria.
As the crowd cheered Moreau warmly, he was intent on steering the applause to Orozco-Estrada, and did not offer an encore. Maybe next time. After intermission, the focus was solely on the conductor and the orchestra, which got loud, and fun, in the Bartok — particularly among the brasses, a section that excelled throughout the night. As with another recent Philharmonic podium debut — that of Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla — there was the sense, a year later, of the ensemble having found its footing inside the acoustics of its renovated hall. During the “Miraculous Mandarin” Suite, there was admirable transparency, even amid heaving, dense writing.
