Oberon's Glade

Tag: The Philadelphia Orchestra

  • Philadelphia Orchestra ~ Rachmaninov/Higdon

    Rachmaninoff jpg

    Above: Sergei Rachmaninov

    ~ Author: Ben Weaver

    Tuesday October 17th, 2023 – The Philadelphia Orchestra was Sergei Rachmaninov’s favorite orchestra. He not only composed multiple works which they premiered, but it was the orchestra he chose to record his symphonies and piano concertos with. And, through the decades, the Philadelphians have played Rachmaninov as well as anyone and better than most.

    The orchestra’s current artistic director, Yannick Nézet-Séguin, has already recorded Rachmaninov’s complete symphonies and piano concertos (with Daniil Trifonov as soloist) and is continuing his presentation of the works at Carnegie Hall. (In a one-time-only mega event, pianist Yuja Wang and the combination of maestro Nézet-Séguin and Philadelphia Orchestra  performed all the piano iano Concertos and the Rhapsody on the Theme of Paganini at Carnegie Hall in a single memorable concert last season.) On October 17th Nézet-Séguin presented a marvelous evening of two of Rachmaninov’s audience favorite works: the Symphonic Dances and Symphony No. 2.

    Rachmaninov composed the Symphonic Dances in 1940 and the Philadelphia Orchestra and Eugene Ormandy premiered it in January of 1941. Apparently Ormandy was not very fond of the work, though he did perform it frequently and record it more than once. 

    The first dance opens with a three-note staccato motif, dark – even sinister – in tone, and it remains the driving rhythmic force throughout the movement. An alto saxophone plays a memorable role during the quieter moments (alas the wonderful player is not specified in the Playbill.) Rachmaninov ends the movement with a modified quote from his First Symphony, a work that had been lost 40 years earlier, so he knew nobody would have any idea what they were hearing. (The score was fortunately discovered again, but after Rachmaninov died, so he did not get an opportunity to hear it again after it’s catastrophic premiere led to his composers’ block.) Maestro Nézet-Séguin took a hard-driven, very steady, and deliberate pacing in the beginning of the work, speeding up considerably when the opening theme returned later in the movement.

    The second dance is a stilted Waltz that I always thought of a cousin to Ravel’s La Valse. The compositions share an odd limping rhythm, the wistful minor key melodies swirling like aged ballerinas remembering happier days. Perhaps Nézet-Séguin lingered a little too much occasionally here, but always recovered the pulse of the work. The final dance, with its heavy reliance on the Dies Irae (a theme Rachmaninov used in many of his works) fights against a quotation from Rachmaninov’s own All-night Vigil Vespers, as light tries to conquer darkness. It seems the heavens win (Rachmaninov even scribbled “Hallelujah” in the score.) The Philadelphia Orchestra and Nézet-Séguin dazzled all the way through.

    The Symphony No. 2 in E minor, Op. 27 is, along with his Piano Concerto No. 2, Rachmaninov’s most beloved work and oft-performed work. A gigantic, lush, deeply Romantic and melodic work was a hit from its premiere (conducted by Rachmaninov himself in St. Petersburg in 1908; the US premiere took place just one year later in – where else – Philadelphia under the composer’s baton.) Maestro Nézet-Séguin’s interpretation was magnificent, sometimes even revelatory. The tumultuous climax of the first movement, with its howling brass, for the first time reminded me of Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique Symphony. The magnificent Adagio movement – with a ravishing melody everyone recognizes – contains a tremendous extensive solo for the clarinet, played by principal clarinetist Ricardo Morales with incredible beauty and tenderness that made you lean forward. The final Allegro vivace movement was a high voltage thrill ride which the orchestra dispatched with effortless aplomb.

    I must acknowledge that the concert opened with a performance of Jennifer Higdon’s Fanfare Ritmico, a brief 1999 piece I occasionally thought may have resembled John Adams’ “Short Ride in a Fast Machine.” But the resemblances were fleeting even if they existed. My red flags went up when I looked at the list of instruments used in this 6 minute piece and it contains, as so many contemporary works do, every imaginable percussion instrument there is. Perhaps 2/3 of the instruments listed were percussive. I suppose to Higdon’s credit she does not use them all at once (something others do and never to anybody’s benefit). But she does fall into the same trap countless contemporary composers do where being unable to transition from one theme to another, the easiest path is to have somebody hit something. And so things kept getting hit. When it ended I said to my companion: “Well, whatever that was, they played it very well.”

    ~ Ben Weaver

  • Grimaud|Philadelphia Orchestra @ Carnegie Hall

    Default_4310-081

    Above: pianist Hélène Grimaud

    ~ Author: Ben Weaver

    Tuesday October 15th, 2019 – When The Philadelphia Orchestra premiered Valerie Coleman’s orchestral version of Umoja, Anthem for Unity last month, it was the first time the orchestra had played music by a living female African -American composer. Yes, there are still such firsts to be had in 2019. 

    Ms. Coleman’s work was originally written in 1997 for a female chorus, then arranged for a woodwind quintet (Coleman’s own acclaimed chamber ensemble, Imani Winds.) And now the full orchestral arrangement makes something clear: Ms. Coleman, born in Louisville, Kentucky, is a major voice in contemporary classical music and is a magnificent orchestrator.

     

    One thing I always note upon entering the concert hall where a contemporary piece is to be played is how big the percussion section is. Typically. it is large: everything and the kitchen sink. The problem, though, isn’t so much that there is more percussion than Mahler ever used, but that it is used as a crutch by so many contemporary composers; a crutch to transition from point A to point B to point C of the music. Unable to develop their material, too often composers rely on a few bangs and smashes from percussion to reset and change the subject. It’s lazy, it’s transparent and it’s bad music. And it is something Valerie Coleman notably does not do in her extraordinary orchestral version of Umoja, Anthem for Unity, a roughly 14 minute cinematic tone poem of shifting moods, sweeping melodies, surprising orchestral effects (the bowed vibraphone that opens the piece, for example) and undeniable joy.

     

    Thumbnail_6a00d8341c4e3853ef022ad378896b200c


    Ms. Coleman (above) explains in the Playbill that the work grew out of a simple, short melody. “Here the melody is sung sweetly in its simplest form and is reminiscent of Appalachian-style music. From there, the melody dances and weaves throughout the instrument families, interrupted by dissonant viewpoints led by the brass and percussion sections…” Someone described the work almost as a concerto grosso, where the music passes around, evolving and shifting from section to section. This gives many artists on stage to shine, notably the wind and the brass sections. Maestro Yannick Nézet-Séguin shaped the work expertly and the thunderous ovation that greeted Ms. Coleman on stage at the end, one hopes, sends a message to leaders of orchestras and opera houses. Tonight, the Metropolitan Opera’s  general manager Peter Gelb sat directly in front of me; did he realize that before us was an extraordinary composer, worthy of more commissions. Why not an opera, Mr. Gelb?

     

    Béla Bartók’s Piano Concerto No. 3 received a spectacular performance from Hélène Grimaud. The playful, spiky, percussive writing of the outer movements presented no challenges to Grimaud, her crystal clear playing etching each note as if out of marble. Yet the percussiveness was never mere banging on the keyboard either; Grimaud is too good of an artist for cheap tricks. But it is in the concerto’s slow movement, Adagio religioso, that Bartók’s soul and Grimaud’s musicality and artistry truly shone. Conductor and orchestra provided first rate support. 

     

    After intermission Richard Strauss’ last tone poem, Eine Alpensinfonie, received a thrilling, no holds-barred performance. Strauss began composing the work after years of putting it off after the death of Gustav Mahler in 1911. “Mahler’s death has affected me greatly,” Strauss wrote and set out to complete Eine Alpensinfonie, an unacknowledged tribute to Mahler. Certainly Mahler’s love of nature – which he attempted to capture in his music throughout his entire career – is here in spades as one travels through the Alps.

     

    Strauss divides the symphony into sections representing different parts of the region. Between the growling, dark Night that opens and closes the symphony, the wanderer observes a glorious Sunrise, a magnificent Waterfall, a treacherous Glacier, a horrifying Thunderstorm and chilling winds disappear with Sunset as Night returns. Strauss, of his many gifts, was an exceptional orchestrator. His command of large orchestral forces, of sound-painting has no betters. (Equals, maybe, but no betters.) The Philadelphians threw themselves into the music as if possessed, with Nézet-Séguin once again demonstrating that his grasp of the great Romantics is something of a specialty.

     

    ~ Ben Weaver