New York Philharmonic Present "CHEMILUMINESCENCE" & More

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Parent Category: Film and the Arts

Category: Reviews

Published on Monday, 14 April 2025 13:48

Written by Jack Angstreich

Photo by Chris Lee

At Lincoln Center’s wonderful David Geffen Hall, on the night of Wednesday, April 9th, I had the great pleasure to attend a marvelous concert—it continued a successful season for the ensemble—featuring the New York Philharmonic, brilliantly led by Jakub Hrůša who, according to the program notes, “is chief conductor of the Bamberg Symphony, music director designate of The Royal Opera, Covent Garden (music director from 2025), and principal guest conductor of the Czech Philharmonic.”

The event started auspiciously with a world premiere: a sterling account of Jessie Montgomery’s striking and memorable CHEMILUMINESCENCE, which was co-commissioned by the New York Philharmonic—as part of its Project 19–along with the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra, Bravo! Vail Music Festival, and The Sphinx Organization. (The two earlier, orchestral works by the composer that I’ve heard—Hymn for Everyone and Soul Force—were both impressive.) Montgomery, who was present to receive the audience’s acclaim, provided the following remarks on the piece:

“Chemiluminescence” is the scientific term to describe any chemical reaction that produces light from a non-light source, such as a firefly rubbing its wings to produce a glow, or bioluminescence along an ocean's edge, or the light produced from a cracked glow stick. The light produced can present varied qualities as infrared, visible, or ultraviolet. 

As a composer, interpreting light sources and their resulting reflections and hues is an endless field of potential sound exploration. I used my impressions on this idea to create harmonies, colors, and blends I feel are unique to the string orchestra, with its ability to bend and shift timbres in an instant. 

The piece is in three distinct sections, each of which interprets light, agitation, reaction, and frenetic interplay in its orchestration. This piece represents my continued interest in finding corollary between music and the natural world.

At moments, the work is reminiscent of the film scores of Bernard Herrmann and it concludes gently and unexpectedly.

An extraordinary soloist—Patricia Kopatchinskaja, in her debut with this ensemble—then entered the stage for a dazzling rendition of Igor Stravinsky’s superb Violin Concerto in D, from 1931–it is the basis for a classic ballet by George Balanchine. The composer recalled in his Autobiography that, when offered the commission:

I hesitated because I am not a violinist, and I was afraid that my slight knowledge of that instrument would not be sufficient to enable me to solve the many problems which would necessarily arise in the course of a major work especially composed for it.

The violinist for whom the work was written, Samuel Dushkin, interestingly reported on his collaboration with the composer:

Whenever he accepted one of my suggestions, even a simple change such as extending the range of the violin by stretching the phrase to the octave below and the octave above, Stravinsky would insist on altering the very foundations correspondingly. He behaved like an architect who if asked to change a room on the third floor had to go down to the foundations to keep the proportions of his whole structure. 

The piece is from Stravinsky’s Neoclassical phase and is often evocative of the Baroque style. The initial movement, Toccata, is sprightly—indeed playful—and rhythmic, with many eccentricities; it finishes emphatically. The ensuing Aria I is oddly somber with moments of surprising lyricism—slow at first, it soon acquires a dynamic pace before resuming the tempo at its outset, before ending suddenly and softly. The succeeding Aria II, although it begins with a recurring, urgent statement, has a melancholy cast and is on the whole more subdued; it too closes quietly. The finale, Capriccio, is virtuosic, vivacious, sparkling, propulsive and quirky and maybe the wittiest of the movements—it concludes forcefully. An enthusiastic response by the concertgoers elicited two enjoyable encores from the soloist: first, Jorge Sánchez-Chiong’s Crin for solo violin, during which she curiously voiced nonsense syllables; and second, her own arrangement of material from the Stravinsky Concerto, calling it Cadenza for Stravinsky Violin Concerto—for this, she was also accompanied on the violin by the concertmaster, Frank Huang.

The second half of the evening was at least equally fine: an exceptionally satisfying realization of the awesome Symphony No. 1 in C minor, Op. 68, of Johannes Brahms, completed in 1877. Annotator James M. Keller informatively records:

“My symphony is long and not particularly lovable,” wrote Brahms to his fellow composer Carl Reinecke when this piece was unveiled. 

He adds that, “He drafted the first movement of this symphony in 1862 and shared it with his friend Clara Schumann. She copied out the opening and sent it along to their friend Joseph Joachim (the violinist).” She appended this comment: 

That is rather strong, for sure, but I have grown used to it. The movement is full of wonderful beauties, and the themes are treated with a mastery that is becoming more and more characteristic of him. It is all interwoven in such an interesting way, and yet it moves forward with such momentum that it might have been poured forth in its entirety in the first flush of inspiration.

That movement begins gravely and portentously with an Un poco sostenuto introduction, rapidly and strongly recalling the music of Ludwig van Beethoven before the onset of its dramatic, even turbulent, Allegro main body—in this latter, some passages have an almost pastoral quality and it finishes quietly, and drew applause, as did the next movement, marked Andante sostenuto. This is often solemn but with many pretty, felicitous measures; it builds in emotional power, closing celestially. The enchanting third movement—its tempo is Un poco allegretto e grazioso—has a certain buoyancy; its conclusion is not without abruptness. The finale, is more serious and suspenseful, even ominous, in its Adagio opening; a nobler vista soon emerges, ushering in the movement’s mostly stirring, sometimes triumphant, even exuberant, main body, marked Allegro non troppo ma con brio—it attains a triumphant, exultant climax.

The artists were deservedly rewarded with a standing ovation.