Maurice Ravel
Le Tombeau de Couperin

Robert Schumann
Piano Concerto in A minor, Op. 54

Ludwig van Beethoven
Symphony No. 7 in A Major, Op. 92

Martha Argerich and Charles Dutoit are two titans, and their shared concerts are an embrace. It is always hard to say which of the two is more intrepid: the pianist captivates and overwhelms without presumption, thrilling and shocking at each of her appearances with her naturalness and humble solidity devoid of pomp. Dutoit always knows how to chisel an orchestration of rare beauty and doesn't overdo it. He knows how to request rapid responses from the orchestra to obtain changes of colour and atmosphere, but he indulges in Argerich's cantabile while caring for everything around the piano. A glance at the programme predicts a stunning evening.

After the wonders of Ravel's Tombeau de Couperin, Schumann's Piano Concerto confirms that the queen of the piano is still firmly on the throne, whereas Beethoven's Seventh reminds us that only a genius could treat us with a theme that can stick in the memory using so few notes.

Power of rhythm, apotheosis of dance: another great opportunity to listen to the Seventh Symphony, one of Beethoven's symphonic masterpieces. The fact that dance and rhythm permeate this music is obvious from the first hearing. The rhythm becomes the generating element, innervating and enlivening the melody, shaping the themes. But it also underlines the harmonic changes, concentrates or disperses the motifs, vigorously supports the dynamics and propels them forward.

Four years elapse between the birth of the Fifth and Seventh symphonies. A conflict between opposing principles is the key to understanding the Fifth. In the Seventh, the contrast is not between fate and man, evil and good, matter and spirit, but between light and shadow, tension and relaxation, and belongs to the inner life of each of us.