~ Author: Brad S Ross
Saturday January 19th, 2019 – The Oberlin Conservatory of Music, visiting from Ohio, began 2019 on the proverbial high-note Saturday night at Carnegie Hall’s Isaac Stern Auditorium. The talents of students and educators alike were well-showcased in a concert bifurcated between the Oberlin College Choir and the Oberlin Orchestra. Following brief opening remarks by Oberlin College President Twillie Ambar, things were swiftly under way in what would turn out to be a tremendously satisfying program.
For the first half of the concert, the Ronald O. Perelman Stage belonged to the Oberlin College Choir under the baton of Gregory Ristow (photo, above). They began with Triptych, a mostly tonal choral composition written in 2005 by the British-American composer Tarik O’Regan. Though originally cast for chorus and orchestra (and what a sight to behold that would’ve been!), it was presented here in a more manageable arrangement for percussion and chorus by the percussionist and composer Dave Alcorn. It featured an eclectic text culled from such myriad sources as William Blake, John Milton, William Wordsworth, Muhammad Rajab al-Bayoumi, and the Book of Psalms, among others.
The first movement, “Threnody,” opened on a gripping a cappella statement set to an epigram by William Penn, “When death takes off the mask, we will know one another.” A driving percussion line soon entered and pushed the work forward as languid, otherworldly phrases meandered in call and answer throughout the chorus. The effect was almost primal.
Following a short percussion interlude, the second movement “As We Remember Them” opened on a haunting soprano solo set to the words of the rabbi Roland B. Gittelsohn, “In the rising of the sun and at its going down, we remember them.” This was performed with remarkable precision by Risa Beddie, whose voice would be featured occasionally throughout the remainder of the piece. This elegy seemed in many ways the heart and soul of O’Regan’s Triptych, however, as the combined, yet subdued forces of Beddie, chorus, and percussion achieved a hypnotic beauty.
Another short interlude followed and the work was propelled energetically forward into the third and final movement, “From Heaven Distilled a Clemency.” O’Regan’s choral writing here was its most exuberant as the choir toned the words of the great Persian poet Rumi, “So why then should I be afraid? I shall die once again to rise an angel blest.” Beddie’s haunting soprano then returned for one last quiet utterance before the work rose to its climactic finale. Every force was well-utilized in Triptych and it made for excellent way to put the evening into motion.
Next up was Igor Stravinsky’s ballet Les noces (“The Wedding”) for four pianists, percussion, vocal soloists, and chorus from 1923. Like O’Regan’s Triptych, Les noces was also originally conceived for a much larger ensemble, but Stravinsky himself made the decision to scale back its herculean forces to a mere four solo vocalists, chorus, percussion, and four pianos. Indeed, even with this “reduced” compliment, the sight of so many musicians, instruments, and four Steinway pianos gave the stage impressively cluttered look. Its libretto, penned by the composer himself from traditional Russian wedding songs, describes the marriage rite of a young bride and groom.
Les noces begins frighteningly on a solo soprano line accompanied by piano, cymbals, and xylophone effecting somber bell tones. Other unholy voices soon joined the proceedings as the mother and bridesmaids console the young bride-to-be. While the libretto features a deceptively melodramatic narrative, musically Stravinsky seemed to be describing a wedding straight from the gates of hell. There was no hint of saccharine or sentiment to be found amongst the composer’s numerous parallel lines, violent dynamic shifts, and strikingly dissonant harmonies—so much the better.
Les noces followed the marriage of its protagonists right up to the wedding night and showcased exhilarating performances by the soprano Katherine Lerner Lee, mezzo-soprano Perri Di Christina, tenor Nicholas Music, baritone Kyle Miller, and bass Evan Tiapula as various members of the ceremony. Its final eerie bell tone—open octaves throughout the instrumental accompaniments—reverberated for what seemed an eternity before Ristow finally lowered his baton. This was an electrifying way to conclude the first half of the program.
After intermission came a high-point in what had already proved to be an exhilarating evening. The conductor Raphael Jiménez (photo, above) and the Oberlin Orchestra next took the stage for the New York premiere of Elizabeth Ogonek’s All These Lighted Things—a set, as the work’s subtitle notes, of “three little dances for orchestra.” It was originally commissioned and premiered by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra in 2017 while Ogonek served as the ensemble’s composer-in-residence. Ogonek, who teaches composition at Oberlin, has quickly earned a reputation as one of the finest young composers in the United States. Based on All These Lighted Things, I would be hard-pressed to disagree.
The first movement began with quiet textures emanating from the percussion and high strings. A broad sonic spectrum swiftly unfolded from Ogonek’s musical prism, with such varied colors as muted brass, dissonant woodwind runs, and violent strikes in the strings, among many other extended techniques I couldn’t quite decipher from a single hearing. The etherial sound of a rainstick opened and continued to be featured throughout the second movement, soon joined by a full high-voice descending glissandi and a stirring violin solo by concertmaster Jerry Zheyang Xiong.
Animated pizzicato runs in the bass and celli signaled the start of the third movement. Aided with light percussion, swift woodwind runs allude to a growing musical menace. A sumptuous flute line emerged with building woodwind accomplices. Finally, a great, full-ensemble crescendo swelled to a tremendous crash and a few fleeting quiet percussion voices sang the piece to its silent conclusion.
Like many contemporary pieces, All These Lighted Things seemed to be more about shifting sonic textures than any strict adherence to musical form. This will no doubt exhaust some listeners who long for structure, but they should at least take comfort that none of Ogonek’s sonorities ever outstay their welcome, as modern compositions so often do. I, for one, found it a lively and vibrant piece—one that will surely warrant many further hearings.
The evening concluded with a performance of Claude Debussy’s La Mer. Its performance was solid, if not quite on par with what New York audiences have been spoiled to expect of late (the New York Philharmonic programmed it twice last year alone, both times to tremendous effect). Apart from the occasionally muddy entrance and one conspicuously fracked trumpet note, the Oberlin Orchestra played with delicate grace, offering a decidedly above-average rendition of Debussy’s great orchestral tome. For his part, Jiménez’s interpretation was lingering and dynamic, never rushing its dramatic moments. This worked well in its first and second movements where Debussy’s colors should be allowed to frolic and breathe freely. By the third movement, however, this approach seemed a touch overwrought and unfortunately robbed some essential energy from the grand brass chords that announce the work’s finale.
But I quibble. A critic knows he’s heard something truly good when there are only minor details he would change. All in all, this was a successful finale to an indisputably successful concert program—one that will surely signal a prosperous new year for the Oberlin Conservatory’s faculty and students. If the sustained standing ovation that night was any indication, New York audiences will welcome them back as often as they’ll come.
~ Brad S Ross
Oberon's Glade 
