Tag: Ring Cycle

The Orchestra Now: Penderecki & Holst

Above: conductor JoAnn Falletta, photo by Cheryl Gorski

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Thursday December 14th, 2017 – TŌN (The Orchestra Now) consists of musicians from leading musical conservatoires around the globe, including Julliard, Curtis and Shanghai Conservatory. I’ve heard less impressive and less cohesive playing from big name orchestras. Under the baton of JoAnn Falletta, the concert was a thrilling evening of superb music-making. And filling the entire stage of Alice Tully Hall at Lincoln Center, one was overwhelmed by the sheer impact and presence of their sound. It rather reinforced my belief that David Geffen Hall truly does have dreadful acoustics. Granted, Alice Tully is a much smaller hall, but it’s not the volume alone that impresses. NY Philharmonic can be plenty loud too. It’s feeling the sound envelop you and pins you to your seat that can be truly breathtaking. This does not happen at David Geffen Hall.

John Adams’ “Short Ride in a Fast Machine” is about five minutes of pure adrenaline. Its percussive opening sets the tone for a repeating loop of fanfares, shrieking woodwinds, and stabbing violins. Adams once described the piece: “You know how it is when someone asks you to ride in a terrific sports car, and then you wish you hadn’t?” Composed in his trademark post-minimalist style, the work constantly shifts, turns, and twists, and the young musicians played it without fear.

Krzysztof Penderecki is one of the giants of contemporary classical music. His “Concerto Doppio”, completed in 2012, was originally written for violin and viola, but in this TŌN concert the version for violin and cello was performed instead, with soloists Dennis Kim and Roman Mekinulov, respectively.

Penderecki intended the solo instruments to be adapted to whatever string instruments are needed for the concert, in the style of J.S. Bach perhaps, who allowed arrangements of a lot of his music for different instruments on as-needed basis. This concerto – proving that great music is still being written – begins unusually with an extended duet for the solo instruments. In fact, the entire concerto is something of a conversation between soloists and orchestra. The music alternates from the largely (or entirely) unaccompanied solo instruments back to the orchestra, and so on. The opening minutes had something of Arvo Pärt’s instrumental chanting, and throughout one could grasp influences from Bach and Shostakovich. The concerto’s end reminded me very much of the hushed conclusion of the first movement of Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 4.

Falletta allowed the excellent soloists, Kim and Mekinulov, to play without conducting them. As so much of their music really is an unaccompanied duet, it allowed the musicians a great deal of flexibility and freedom.

After the intermission, the orchestra played one of the most popular of all orchestral works: Holst’s “The Planets.” It is appropriate that the concert was given on the day the new Star Wars film, “The Last Jedi,” was released. Hearing the work once again I am struck by how much composer John Williams borrowed from Holst to write the legendary film scores.

Again, to hear such a great and inventive orchestral work for a large orchestra in a hall like Alice Tully was very exciting. Holst’s endless stream of melodies and remarkable orchestration is a war-horse for a good reason and I do not tire of hearing it. The orchestra played it superbly, relishing every note.

No doubt many of the musicians were playing it for the first time. I am reminded of a story – perhaps a myth – about Fritz Reiner rehearsing Wagner’s “Die Meistersinger” overture, and one musician kept making a mistake. When Reiner called him out, the musician said: “I am sorry, Maestro, I am playing this for the first time.” Reiner is said to have replied: “Oh, how I envy you.”

It is not easy to make a work as familiar as “The Planets” sound fresh, but the wonderful young TŌN Orchestra, under JoAnn Falletta’s inspired leadership, not only made it sound fresh, they did it without any noticeable mistakes.

~ Ben Weaver

December 19, 2017
The Orchestra Now: Penderecki & Holst

Above: conductor JoAnn Falletta, photo by Cheryl Gorski

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Thursday December 14th, 2017 – TŌN (The Orchestra Now) consists of musicians from leading musical conservatoires around the globe, including Julliard, Curtis and Shanghai Conservatory. I’ve heard less impressive and less cohesive playing from big name orchestras. Under the baton of JoAnn Falletta, the concert was a thrilling evening of superb music-making. And filling the entire stage of Alice Tully Hall at Lincoln Center, one was overwhelmed by the sheer impact and presence of their sound. It rather reinforced my belief that David Geffen Hall truly does have dreadful acoustics. Granted, Alice Tully is a much smaller hall, but it’s not the volume alone that impresses. NY Philharmonic can be plenty loud too. It’s feeling the sound envelop you and pins you to your seat that can be truly breathtaking. This does not happen at David Geffen Hall.

John Adams’ “Short Ride in a Fast Machine” is about five minutes of pure adrenaline. Its percussive opening sets the tone for a repeating loop of fanfares, shrieking woodwinds, and stabbing violins. Adams once described the piece: “You know how it is when someone asks you to ride in a terrific sports car, and then you wish you hadn’t?” Composed in his trademark post-minimalist style, the work constantly shifts, turns, and twists, and the young musicians played it without fear.

Krzysztof Penderecki is one of the giants of contemporary classical music. His “Concerto Doppio”, completed in 2012, was originally written for violin and viola, but in this TŌN concert the version for violin and cello was performed instead, with soloists Dennis Kim and Roman Mekinulov, respectively.

Penderecki intended the solo instruments to be adapted to whatever string instruments are needed for the concert, in the style of J.S. Bach perhaps, who allowed arrangements of a lot of his music for different instruments on as-needed basis. This concerto – proving that great music is still being written – begins unusually with an extended duet for the solo instruments. In fact, the entire concerto is something of a conversation between soloists and orchestra. The music alternates from the largely (or entirely) unaccompanied solo instruments back to the orchestra, and so on. The opening minutes had something of Arvo Pärt’s instrumental chanting, and throughout one could grasp influences from Bach and Shostakovich. The concerto’s end reminded me very much of the hushed conclusion of the first movement of Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 4.

Falletta allowed the excellent soloists, Kim and Mekinulov, to play without conducting them. As so much of their music really is an unaccompanied duet, it allowed the musicians a great deal of flexibility and freedom.

After the intermission, the orchestra played one of the most popular of all orchestral works: Holst’s “The Planets.” It is appropriate that the concert was given on the day the new Star Wars film, “The Last Jedi,” was released. Hearing the work once again I am struck by how much composer John Williams borrowed from Holst to write the legendary film scores.

Again, to hear such a great and inventive orchestral work for a large orchestra in a hall like Alice Tully was very exciting. Holst’s endless stream of melodies and remarkable orchestration is a war-horse for a good reason and I do not tire of hearing it. The orchestra played it superbly, relishing every note.

No doubt many of the musicians were playing it for the first time. I am reminded of a story – perhaps a myth – about Fritz Reiner rehearsing Wagner’s “Die Meistersinger” overture, and one musician kept making a mistake. When Reiner called him out, the musician said: “I am sorry, Maestro, I am playing this for the first time.” Reiner is said to have replied: “Oh, how I envy you.”

It is not easy to make a work as familiar as “The Planets” sound fresh, but the wonderful young TŌN Orchestra, under JoAnn Falletta’s inspired leadership, not only made it sound fresh, they did it without any noticeable mistakes.

~ Ben Weaver

December 18, 2017
Vladimir Kastorsky

Born in 1870, Vladimir Kastorsky entered the St. Petersburg Conservatory in 1893. A year later he was expelled for “voicelessness and incompetence”. But he persevered, and made his operatic debut at the Opera House of Pskov in 1894; he went on to a career of nearly 50 years.

Kastorsky was a star of both the Mariinsky and Bolshoi Theatres. He sang all the great Russian basso roles as well as Mozart’s Count Almaviva and Leporello, Nilakantha in LAKME, and Wagner’s Wotan and Wolfram.

In 1907-1908, Kastorsky participated in Sergei Diaghilev’s Russian seasons in Paris. He also was heard at La Scala, Prague, Berlin, Rome, Munich, London, Kiev, Odessa, and Tiflis. Later in life, he taught at Mariinsky Theatre, Leningrad’s Art Studio and at the Saint Petersburg Conservatory. Kastorsky continued to give recitals of Russian songs and German lieder into his old age. He died on July 2, 1948…one day before I was born.

Vladimir Kastorsky – Pimen’s Monologue from BORIS GODUNOV

Vladimir Kastorsky ~ Eugene Onegin – Prince Gremin’s Aria

August 21, 2017
dell’Arte Opera Ensemble: LA CALISTO

~ Author: Oberon

Sunday August 20th, 2017 matinee – Francesco Cavalli (above) wrote about 30 operas, and of them LA CALISTO has become a favorite with contemporary audiences. Premiered in 1651, the opera’s brief and richly-varied musical numbers – and its sensuous, lusty characters – seem wonderfully fresh and relevant to us today, especially in a performance such as was offered this afternoon by the enterprising dell’Arte Opera Ensemble down at the La MaMa Theater.

A brief synopsis of the opera will help sort out the twists of plot and the infatuations and motivations of the various characters:

THE PROLOGUE
Nature and Eternity celebrate those mortals who have climbed the path to immortality. Destiny insists that the name of Calisto be added to the list.

THE OPERA
A thunderbolt hurled by Giove has gone awry and decimated a portion of the valley of Arcadia. The god comes down with his sidekick Mercurio to inspect the damage They find the nymph Calisto, desperately seeking water. Giove causes a stream to gush up. He then attempts to seduce Calisto, who is a follower of Diana – the goddess of the hunt – and a staunch virgin. She rejects Giove’s advances, but later succumbs when he disguises himself as Diana. Meanwhile, the real Diana, because of her vow of chastity, cannot return the love of the handsome shepherd boy Endimione. Diana relies on the help of her attendant nymph, Linfea, who desires a husband but spurns the advances of a young satyr.

On Mount Lycaeus, Endimione sings to the moon, the symbol of Diana. As he sleeps, Diana covers him with kisses. He awakes and they sing of their love. Jove’s infidelity is discovered by his wife Juno, while Diana’s secret is found out by Pane, the god of the forest, who has long desired her. Endimione is persecuted by Pane and his satyrs.

The Furies turn Calisto into a bear at the command of the indignant Juno. Giove sadly confesses all to Calisto: she must live the rest of her life as a bear, but eventually he will raise her to the stars. Diana rescues Endmione and they agree that, while their kissing-fest was enjoyable, they will leave it at that. Giove and Mercurio celebrate Calisto’s ascension to her heavenly home in the constellation Ursa Major

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Sung in the original Italian, with English surtitles, the dell’Arte production is directed with wit and affection by Brittany Goodwin, who let the bawdiness of certain scenes play out without lapsing into vulgarity. The costumes by Claire Townsend mix modern-day wear with fantasy elements. The scenic design is by You-Shin Chen, and the atmospheric lighting by Dante Olivia Smith.

The score was played by an expert period-instrument ensemble led by Charles Weaver, with Mr. Weaver and Adam Cockerham playing lutes, violinists Dongmyung Ahn and Sarah Kenner, cellist Matt Zucker, and Jeffrey Grossman at the harpsichord. Their unfailing grace and perceptive dramatic accents brought Cavalli’s music into our time in all its glory.

Vocally, the afternoon got off to a splendid start as Allison Gish (above, in a backstage portrait) intoned the lines of La Natura with a voice that evoked thoughts of the great contraltos of bygone days.

In a scene which anticipates Wagner’s GOTTERDAMMERUNG Norns (even down to having a contralto sing first), Ms. Gish’s La Natura is joined by Elyse Kakacek as L’Eternità and Jungje Xu as Il Destino. Ms. Kakacek looked striking as she sang from the mezzanine; the voice is full and wide-ranging, pinging out into the theater space. Jungje Xu’s voice is lyrical, and she sang very well as she pleaded Destiny’s case for giving Calisto a place in the heavens. When these three singers blended voices, the effect was superb. Later in the opera, they portrayed the stream which sprang up to quench Calisto’s thirst, and – later still – were Furies, minions of the goddess Juno, who revel in a scene where they torment Calisto.

Above: Emily Hughes as Calisto, with her fellow archers of Diana’s entourage, in a Brian Long photo. Ms. Hughes was the lovely focal-point of the story; with her clear, appealing timbre and a charming streak of vulnerability in her personification of the role, the young soprano made Jupiter’s infatuation entirely understandable. Her long aria in the opera’s second half was particularly pleasing.

Mason Jarboe as Giove (Jupiter) – handsome in appearance and authoritative of voice – was an ideal matching of singer to role. My only wish was that he’d had more to sing. The same might be said of tenor Brady DelVecchio as Mercurio; his characterful singing, easy stage demeanor, and pimp-like persona were much appreciated. Both gentlemen savoured their every moment onstage.

Above: Emily Hughes as Calisto with Adria Caffaro, who appears both as Diana and as Giove disguised as Diana. Ms. Caffaro was able to subtly differentiate vocally between her two roles; the voice is warm, sizable and pliant, with a touch of earthiness. And she exuded goddess-like confidence. After an episode of heated kissing between Calisto and Giove in his Diana guise, Ms. Caffaro returns as ‘Diana herself’ and is amused – and then annoyed – by Calisto’s description of ‘their’ smooching session and the implication that Diana might have same-sex desires: Ms. Caffaro here turned fiery, making the scene one of the highlights of the afternoon.

Above: Padraic Costello as Endimione. Mr. Costello’s honeyed counter-tenor and gift for persuasive phrasing fell graciously on the ear. His portrayal of the shepherd, infatuated with Diana, was as expressive as his singing. As the most human character in the story, and the one for whom love is truly all, Mr. Costello was as moving in his sincerity as in the beauty of sound he produced.

Above: Joyce Yin as Linfea, one of Diana’s handmaidens who is torn between preserving her chastity and losing it. Satirino, a lusty satyr, offers to solve Linfea’s dilemma for her, but she fends him off. Ms. Yin’s voice is clear and assertive, pealing forth to express her excitement. Stage-wise, she was a bundle of energy, and very amusing when she ‘remembered’ to strike the required archer’s poses.

Above: Raymond Storms as Pane. This is the opera’s second counter-tenor role and Mr. Storms excelled in the music, which veered from passionate declaration to soft, sweet turns of phrase. His acting was spot-on as yet another frustrated lover of Diana (she’s so popular!).

Pane’s pals are Shawn Palmer as Satirino (the satyr who tried to have his way with Linfea earlier) and Angky Budiardjono as Silvano. This trio’s scenes recall the rustics in MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM…and all three are actors who can sing.

Ms. Palmer looked androgynous with her lithe, long-legged figure and glossy blue bob-wig. Her cantering walk and occasional pawing of the ground revealed her animal nature. Her rather long dramatic aria showed a deeper side to the character, and she sang it so well.

Mr. Budiardjono’s singing was wide-ranging and ample-toned, a very pleasing sound to be sure. In Part II of the opera, Mssrs. Storms and Budiardjono have a duet that really showed off their talents; Ms. Palmer then joined them in a trio that was sheer fun to see and hear.

Sophie Delphis as the goddess Giunone, wife of Jove, did not descend from the heavens until the start of Part II. Clad in an elaborate haute couture dress, spike heels, and a flame-red hat, Ms. Delphis’ appearance was as striking as her singing and acting. A complete immersion into the character made her every note, word, and movement vivid. In a vindictive rage upon learning her husband has been unfaithful, Ms. Delphis unleashed her anger like a sylvan Santuzza. The voice has a real bite to it.

Diana’s archers also served as stagehands, quickly maneuvering floor platforms into different configurations and nimbly transforming swaths of long, hanging sheer-white fabric into clouds, canopies, or pillars.

The afternoon flew by; all too soon we were hearing what seemed to be a choral finale with all the characters mingling voices as Giove showed Calisto the firmament…her future home. But the voices fade away and the opera ends on a parlando passage from Giove.

Production photos by Brian Long.

~ Oberon

August 20, 2017
Julia Claussen

Swedish mezzo-soprano Julia Claussen studied at the Royal Academies of Stockholm and Berlin, made her operatic debut in Stockholm in 1903, and sang at Paris, London, and Chicago.

From her debut there as Dalila in 1917 until 1932, Julia Claussen was a mainstay at the Metropolitan Opera in New York City. She sang Azucena, Amneris, Ortrud, Fricka, Brangaene, Kundry, Venus, Marina in BORIS GODUNOV, Laura in LA GIOCONDA, and other roles for a total of nearly 175 performances at the Old House and on tour. She frequently participated in the opera and song concerts that were regular features of Met seasons at that time.

An interview with Julia Claussen here. She died at Stockholm in 1949.

Julia Claussen – Schmerzen from Wagner’s Wesendonck Lieder

July 27, 2017
Matti Salminen as Hagen

On October 21st, 1988, basso Matti Salminen (in a Marty Sohl photo, above) enjoyed a huge personal triumph with his magnificent portrayal of Hagen at the Metropolitan Opera’s premiere performance of the Otto Schenk production of GOTTERDAMMERUNG, with James Levine on the podium. I was there, and it was one of the great nights in my opera-going career.

This excerpt comes from the 1993 broadcast of the Wagner masterwork:

Matti Salminen as Hagen – Met 1993

July 18, 2017
Barbara Conrad Has Passed Away

Mezzo-soprano Barbara Conrad has passed away; famously the center of a racist imbroglio during her college days at the University of Texas, Ms. Conrad went on to a long and distinguished career.

In 1957, when she was 19 years old, Barbara Conrad was chosen to play Dido, the queen of Carthage, opposite a white student as her lover in a production of Henry Purcell’s DIDO & AENEAS. The interracial pairing stirred up a major controversy: Ms. Conrad drew death threats from white students, who harassed her with phone calls. The case reached the Texas legislature, which threatened to withdraw funding from the university if she was not replaced in the production. When university officials caved in to the legislature’s demands, Ms. Conrad was publicly gracious, but on a personal level she was devastated.

Harry Belafonte offered to pay the young singer’s tuition at any school of her choice if she desired to transfer, but she stuck things out in Austin. Belafonte later arranged for Ms. Conrad to fly to New York City for auditions; the trip’s expenses were underwritten by Eleanor Roosevelt.

Putting the past behind her, Conrad emerged as a distinctive singer and stage personality; she sang at both the New York City Opera and at The Met, where I saw her as Maddalena in RIGOLETTO and Preziosilla in FORZA DEL DESTINO. She was also heard at The Met as Annina in ROSENKAVALIER, Hecuba in LES TROYENS, and as Maria in the Met’s premiere performances of PORGY AND BESS.

Ms. Conrad appeared with major opera companies and orchestras, and worked with such conductors as Maazel, Bernstein, and Levine. She went on to teach at the Manhattan School of Music, where she co-founded the Wagner Theater Program.

Amazingly enough, I got to hear Barbara Conrad yet again: in 2008, she sang Fricka in the Wagner Theater Program’s semi-staged WALKURE. She was “…vivid, larger-than-life…her frustration and anger grandly portrayed. Despite some tension on the uppermost notes, Conrad’s intense, chesty sound and authoritative command of the stage elicited applause as she made her exit…”

Incredibly, part of this WALKURE performance is to be found on YouTube. It will give you an idea of Ms. Conrad’s vibrant performance as the queen of the gods.

There was a post-script to the story: a few days after the WALKURE, Barbara Conrad came to Tower Records where I was working. I struck up a conversation with her, using her Fricka as an entrée. She was beyond gracious, and so tickled that I recalled seeing her as Preziosilla; I remarked that not only had she made a smouldering physical impression, but that she was the one Preziosilla in my experience who really made something of the music.

Barbara Conrad is the subject of a documentary, WHEN I RISE.

Here’s a sampling of Ms. Conrad’s singing, from her repertoire of spirituals:

Barbara Conrad sings ‘Deep River’

May she rest in peace.

May 24, 2017
The First Time I Heard GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG

Above: American bass-baritone Ralph Herbert

Still being held captive by the evil sorceress Sciatica, I decided I needed a different “front page” article for my blog.

Coming randomly upon an excerpt from Act II of Wagner’s GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG – from my premiere encounter with that opera – I was taken back over the decades to a wintry afternoon in January, 1962, when I heard Wagner’s “grand finale of the RING Cycle” for the very first time. At age fourteen, I had already been an opera-lover for three years when the complete RING was broadcast via the Texaco-Metropolitan Opera Radio Network.

I never missed a Texaco matinee in the first 20 or so years of my operatic ‘career’, my first one having been Sutherland’s “debut season” LUCIA broadcast. I would sit alone in the family rec room, and no one was allowed to disturb me; the phone was taken off the hook. Once in a great while, if a particular opera was not grabbing my attention, my grandmother and I would play Honeymoon Bridge as the sun went down. We always loved Milton Cross’s narration of the curtain calls.

The RING Cycle of course became a great favorite work of mine over time; but at first, allured as was by by BUTTERFLY, TROVATORE, and GIOCONDA, it wasn’t easy to comprehend.

RHEINGOLD was not very accessible for me: too much “male” singing. I did better with DIE WALKÜRE, in part because the story had more meaning for me, and three singers I already knew and liked – Birgit Nilsson, Gladys Kuchta, and Jon Vickers – had leading roles. Hearing Milton Cross describe the final scene of WALKÜRE prompted me to go out into the field behind our house and make a circle of empty boxes, newspapers, etc on the snow-covered ground. I set it afire in four different places and then realized I was in the middle of the ring.

SIEGFRIED was something of a trial, at least until Jean Madeira (Erda) and Birgit Nilsson (Brunnhilde) started to sing. I remember liking the Norn Scene from GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG quite a bit, wherein Madeira was joined by Irene Dalis and Martina Arroyo; and the Dawn Duet was fun, thanks to Birgit’s lightning bolt high-C, but my mind began to wander during much of the rest of Act I, re-engaging when Nilsson and Irene Dalis met as the sundered Valkyrie sisters.

Above: bass Gottlob Frick

I can remember distinctly being drawn into the mystery of the opening of Act II, especially as Milton Cross had described Alberich’s dreamlike appearance to his slumbering son, Hagen, sung by Gottlob Frick, who over the ensuing years has always been my idea of a great Wagner basso.

In this eerie scene, Mr. Frick is joined by baritone Ralph Herbert as Alberich:

Ralph Herbert & Gottlob Frick – Götterdämmerung ~ Act II Scene 1 – Met 1962 – Leinsdorf cond

Of course, Birgit’s Immolation Scene was exciting, though at the time it seemed too long; now it sometimes seems too short.

Erich Leinsdorf conducted this RING Cycle; a grand master of the Wagner repertoire, he had made his Met debut in 1938 (!) conducting WALKÜRE with Flagstad as Brunnhilde and Elizabeth Rethberg as Sieglinde, and made his farewell to The Met in 1983, conducting ARABELLA with Dame Kiri Te Kanawa. In all, Leinsdorf led nearly 500 performances for The Met, both at home and on tour.

It was fun coming across the Opera News cast page (above) for this particular broadcast, and to see that Ms. Dalis had sent me an autographed copy of the same head-shot used in the magazine:

And here are Nilsson and Dalis in final part of the scene where Waltraute has asked Brunnhilde to give up the ring. It begins with Brunnhilde’s “Welch’ banger Träume Mären meldest du Traurige mir!” (“What tales of tortured dreams do you tell in such distress?”)

Götterdämmerung ~ Birgit Nilsson & Irene Dalis – Leinsdorf cond – Met 1962

Recalling those first few seasons of broadcasts, I remember one of my grandmother’s great comeback lines. Sutherland was singing Amina in SONNAMBULA and at the end of “Sovra il sen” I said: “Grandma, Joan Sutherland just hit E-flat above high-C!” “That’s nothin’…” she retorted, “…once I got up to P and held it all night!”

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I’m sorry not to be attending performances at this time, and blogging about them; hopefully I will become more mobile in the next few days, and start venturing out. I appreciate everyone continuing to visit Oberon’s Grove and finding things to read.

March 18, 2017
Cynthia Phelps|Jaap van Zweden|NY Phil

Saturday November 19th, 2016 – Even before I started going to The New York Philharmonic faithfully, I was a fan of Cynthia Phelps (above) from her work with Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center. Tonight, Ms. Phelps was center-stage at Geffen Hall, playing a brand new viola concerto by composer Julia Adolphe. The program further featured works by two of my extreme favorite composers – Wagner and Tchaikovsky – and was conducted by the Philharmonic’s Music Director designate, Jaap van Zweden.

It has been ten years since The Metropolitan Opera last performed LOHENGRIN, and I for one have really missed it; I was grateful tonight for the opportunity to hear the opera’s Act I prelude, and – under Maestro van Zweden’s baton – the artists of the Philharmonic gave it a stunning performance.

Wagner wrote of the prelude as being a depiction of the descent of the Holy Grail to Earth; it opens on high, with ethereal violins, and the rapture slowly spreads from one section of the orchestra to another, creating a sonic glow. At the very end, a return to the stratosphere with a pianissimo whisper from the violins leaves us breathless. Maestro van Zweden molded the piece lovingly, controlling the layerings of sound to perfection and creating an organic whole. It is simply an astonishing and unique piece of music.

Cynthia Phelps, gowned in blue, then took the stage to a warm welcome for Julia Adolphe’s viola concerto; entitled Unearth, Release, the concerto is in three movements, each being sub-titled. The first is Captive Voices, and it opens on a mysterious note with the viola playing in the low register. The composer employs a variety of percussion effects, and here the vibraphone sounds eerily. The viola remains unsettled – as if talking to itself – and then rises slowly out of the depths. A brief shimmer in the violins, a gong resonates ominously, and then the music turns big and cinematic; bells sound, the horns give voice, and magically the harp enters the mix: the concerto’s most intriguing passage – for viola and harp in a pinging dialogue – ensues. An odd, probably sub-conscious quote from LA FORZA DEL DESTINO pricked up my ear; deep, sustained notes from Ms. Phelps, and then her line rises to mingle with the harp again as the music fades into air.

The second movement, Surface Tension, begins with an animated, scurrying passage. The viola is kept busy against shifting rhythmic patterns from the orchestra until the movement comes to an abrupt halt. The dreamlike opening of the third movement, Embracing Mist, features Frank Huang’s violin playing on high. The viola rises, and the cabasa makes a somewhat creepy appearance. Trumpet and English horn speak up before the music turns more expansive, over-lain by a brief horn duet. Ms. Phelps’s viola whispers to us one last time.

The concerto has a darkling appeal, and Ms. Phelps’ playing of it is first-rate; it has the potential to become a vehicle for violists worldwide. The composer took a bow, and the Philharmonic audience – always so responsive when a player from the home team takes a soloist role – showered Ms. Phelps with affection.

Maestro van Zweden (above, in a Marco Borggreve portrait) and the Philharmonic players then gave a thrilling rendering of Tchaikovsky’s 4th symphony. From the opening fanfares, the performance was marked by big, passionate playing whilst jewel-like moments from the various solo voices emerged along the way to delight us. During the course of the first movement, my admiration for Maestro van Zweden became unbounded: his very animated podium personality and his brilliant alternation of jabs, lures, and summonses as he cued the various players was simply delightful to behold. Among the most cordial passages were an alternation of violins vs winds over timpani, and big playing from the horns; flute, clarinet, oboe, bassoon, and horn soloists shone forth. The music excited us thru its sense of urgency.

Liang Wang’s evocative playing of the oboe solo that opens the second movement was a high point of the performance; in this Andantino, very much à la Russe, the wind soloists again flourished in each opportunity the composer provides.

The dazzling unison plucking of the strings in the Scherzo was vividly crisp and clear tonight, with the Maestro’s fingertip control of the volume sometimes honed the sound down to a delicate pianissimo whilst maintaining the lively atmosphere. Oboe and flute again sing appealingly.

A grand, wild start to the concluding Allegro con fuoco established immediately the fact that Maestro van Zweden was taking the designation “con fuoco” (“fiery”) very much to heart. The orchestra simply blazed away, a mighty conflagration that dazzled the audience in no uncertain terms. As the symphony reached its fantastical conclusion, the Geffen Hall audience burst into unrestrained shouts of approval and gales of applause: everyone stood up to cheer. Maestro van Zweden returned and signaled the musicians to rise, but instead they remained seated and joined in the applause, giving the conductor a solo bow. The audience loved it.

An evening, then, that moved from the spiritual to the exhilarating, superbly played, and with a Maestro from whom, it seems clear, we can expect great things.

November 19, 2016
Noseda|Yuja Wang|London Symphony

Friday October 28th, 2016 – Gianandrea Noseda (above) conducting the London Symphony at Geffen Hall, with works by Wagner and Shostakovich book-ending a performance of the Ravel G-major piano concerto by Yuja Wang. The concert was part of the Lincoln Center Great Performers series.

The evening began with the orchestra making an “entrance”. This pretentious ritual should be abandoned, and tonight’s audience weren’t buying it: there was about 5 seconds of applause and then the majority of the players had to find their places in silence. It was all mildly embarrassing. After the intermission, they tried it again and, after a smattering of hand-claps, silence again prevailed.

I’m so accustomed to hearing the overture to DIE MEISTERSINGER played from the Metropolitan Opera House’s pit that the massed sound of The London players onstage at Geffen tonight came as a jolt. To me, Gianandrea Noseda’s choice of pacing in the opening theme seemed too slow. The sound was very dense and I missed the layering of voices that can make this music so fascinating. The playing was marvelous, and the impression grandiose, but much of the time it seemed like sonic over-kill: exciting in its own way, but not finding an emotional center.

Above: Yuja Wang

I love a well-contrasted program, but following the Wagner overture with Ravel’s charmingly jazzy and often delicate G-major piano concerto – an idea that seemed ideal on paper – didn’t quite come off. The Ravel, dazzlingly played by Yuja Wang, seemed oddly inconsequential – for all its delights.

Commencing in the ‘toy piano’ register, the opening Allegramente proceeds thru varying moods – from magically mystery to bluesy languor – with the piano line woven among gentle coloristic passages from the winds and harp. In the Adagio, introspective yet subtly passionate, we’re reminded of the beautiful ‘beach’ pas de deux that Jerome Robbins created for his ballet “In G Major“. Boisterous interjections from wind instruments attempt to jar the pianist from her mission in the concluding Allegro assai, but the music rushes onward to a final exclamation point.

Yuja Wang performed the concerto superbly, making a particularly lovely impression with the extraordinary delicacy of her playing in the Adagio. In the animation of the finale, she blazed away with marvelous energy, causing the audience to explode in cheers and tumultuous applause at her final jubilant gesture. Ms. Wang is a musician who brings a rock-star’s pizazz to classical music; but far from being just a stage-crafty icon, she has the technique and artistry to stand with the best of today’s pianists.

This evening, Yuja Wang played three encores. This delighted the crowd, but in the midst of a symphonic concert, one encore suffices…or two, at a stretch; in a solo recital, you can keep encoring til the wee hours, as Marilyn Horne did at Salzburg in 1984. Ms. Wang’s third recall brought her most intriguing playing of the evening an: arrangement of Schubert’s Gretchen am Spinnrade which was hypnotic in its restlessness and its melodious mood of quiet desperation.

Is Shostakovich’s fifth symphony the greatest symphony ever written? It certainly seemed that way tonight, and though one wonders what the composer might have written had he not been in need of paying penance to Stalin following the dictator’s displeasure with LADY MACBETH OF MTSENSK, the result of Shostakovich’s desire to please under threatening circumstances resulted in this titanic masterpiece.

Maestro Noseda and The London players served up this astounding music in a performance that was thrilling from first note to last. Commencing with solo clarinet and moving on to a passage with piano and deep brass, the opening Moderato becomes extremely noisy..and then subsides. The pairing of flute and horn is a stroke of genius, with the clarinet and high violin picking up the melodic thread. The misterioso flute casts a spell.

In the Allegretto, solo winds pop up before Shostakovich commences a waltz. Irony and wit hover overall, with featured passages for a procession of instruments: violin, flute, trumpet, a bassoon duo. Plucking strings bring a fresh texture.

The dolorous opening of the Largo dispels any thoughts of lightness that the Allegretto might have stirred up. In this third movement, the brass do not play at all. Weeping strings, and the mingling of harp and flute lead to a rising sense of passion coloured by desolation. This evolves into a theme for oboe and violins. A lonely clarinet and a forlorn flute speak to us before a grand build-up commences with the strings in unison really digging into it. The music wafts into a high haze of despair, the harp trying to console. Just as the whispering final phrase was vanishing into thin air, someone’s device made an annoying intrusion: another great musical moment smudged by thoughtlessness.

The fourth movement, with its driven sense of propulsive grandeur, is thought to have marked Shostakovich’s triumph over the woes besetting him; but it has also been described as “forced rejoicing”. Whichever may be the case, the glorious horn theme, the aching strings, and the slow build-up to the epic finish certainly raised the spirits tonight. The cymbalist’s exuberant clashes at the end took on a celebratory feel.

It was reported that, at this symphony’s 1937 premiere, members of the audience began to weep openly during the Largo. Today, some 80 years on, there is still much to weep over in the world: religious and political forces continue to divide mankind; our planet is slowly being ravaged; racism, sexism, ageism, homophobia, and casual violence pervade the headlines daily. As we seem to slip deeper and deeper into some terrible abyss, it is in music, art, poetry, dance, and great literature that we may seek consolation. Tonight, the Shostakovich felt like an affirmation of faith in humanity, and we must cling to that against all odds.

October 28, 2016