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Reviews
Beethoven & Mozart with the New York Philharmonic
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- Parent Category: Film and the Arts
- Category: Reviews
- Published on Wednesday, 29 May 2024 15:09
- Written by Jack Angstreich
Guest Conductor Jane Glover & soprano Karen Slack with the New York Philharmonic. Photo by Chris Lee
At Lincoln Center’s David Geffen Hall, on the afternoon of Friday, May 10th, I had the considerable pleasure to attend a superb concert of classical era music presented by the players of the New York Philharmonic, under the assured direction of guest conductor Jane Glover.
The event began splendidly with an exceptional account of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s marvelous Symphony No. 35 in D major, the “Haffner”, K.385. The initial Allegro con spirito movement is vibrant, although with subdued moments, while the Haydnesque Andante that follows is graceful and unexpectedly playful. The ensuing Menuetto is stately and elegant even as it is replete with forceful statements, and the exhilarating Presto finale is propulsive, but again with more reflective interludes.
A fine soprano, Karen Slack, in her debut performances with this ensemble, then entered the stage, to impressively sing Ludwig van Beethoven’s pronouncedly Mozartean recitative and aria from 1796, Ah! perfido, Op. 65. In a useful note on the program, James M. Keller provides the following description:
For the recitative of this piece Beethoven employed a text by the poet Pietro Metastasio. The singer, who has been deceived by her lover, goes through a tumultuous sequence of conflicting emotions, all underscored by the ever-changing tempo and the varying character of the orchestral underpinnings. With the aria proper (“Per pietà, non dirmi addio”), to an anonymous text, we enter another Mozartean world, one in which woodwinds add pointed commentary above the limpid vocal line. The aria seems to reach its conclusion as the singer bemoans her desperate state, but this is a false ending: an extension introduces an outburst of anger, and finally an expression of almost defiant self-respect. The language throughout is not much of an advance on Mozart’s, but Ah! perfido does point the way to such an achievement as the “Abscheulicher” aria that Beethoven would write in his opera Fidelio, not only in its structure but also in its movement in expression from anger and desolation to self-affirming confidence.
The second half of the concert was comparable in strength, starting with a pleasurable realization of Mozart’s wonderful, seldom performed, and astonishingly precocious Symphony No. 13 in F major, K.112, from 1771, written when he was only fifteen. The opening Allegro is ebullient, if with serious episodes, and closer to the Baroque in style at times. The succeeding Andante is charming, but with surprising depth, leading to a brief but admirable Menuetto movement and a majestic finale marked Molto allegro.
The event concluded rewardingly with an accomplished rendition of the most substantial work on the program, the same composer’s major Symphony No. 39 in E-flat major, K.543, from 1788, the first of his supreme final trilogy of symphonies. The first movement has a solemn, Adagiointroduction, while its main body—an Allegro—is enthralling, but with quieter passages. It precedes an Andante con moto that achieves profundity even as it enchants and a melodious Menuetto with a bewitching Trio. The dynamic, Allegro finale is almost breathless in pace and ultimately dazzling.
The musicians deservedly received an enthusiastic ovation.
New York Philharmonic Features Guest Conductor Esa-Pekka Salonen
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- Parent Category: Film and the Arts
- Category: Reviews
- Published on Monday, 27 May 2024 16:22
- Written by Jack Angstreich
Guest conductor Esa-Pekka Salonen with the New York Philharmonic. Photo by Brandon Patoc.
At Lincoln Center’s David Geffen Hall on the night of Saturday, May 4th, I had the pleasure to attend a splendid concert presented by the New York Philharmonic under the superb direction of the eminent guest conductor, Esa-Pekka Salonen.
The events began promisingly with an excellent account of Dmitri Shostakovich’s admirable Concerto No. 1 for Cello and Orchestra, Op. 107, from 1959, featuring the talented soloist, Sheku Kanneh-Mason. Program annotator James M. Keller records that, “The cellist Mstislav Rostropovich collaborated closely with Shostakovich on several works through the years, and it was for him that the composer wrote both of his cello concertos, seven years apart.” In his book Mstislav Rostropovich and Galina Vishnevskaya, Russia, Music, and Liberty: Conversations with Claude Samuel, the cellist commented:
I have a particularly curious recollection about the Shostakovich First Concerto. When I performed the work for the first time, Shostakovich felt I had come out right all along the line, so he adopted the tempos of my interpretation for the published version of the score. However, five years later, I changed my own interpretation, specifically by speeding up the first movement, which to me seemed better suited to the spirit of the music. In any case, I considered that modification an improvement, and I think Shostakovich shared that feeling. But the “error” of my first interpretation remained in print for posterity.
The initial, Allegretto movement opens playfully—although the propulsive music rapidly becomes more serious—and ends abruptly, while the Moderato that follows is solemn, even lugubrious, and meditative, if with sardonic moments; it builds in intensity before reverting to a more subdued register. The succeeding Cadenza movement is also grave in character, if eventually quite animated and virtuosic. Keller reports that, “In the last movement Shostakovich even worked in a subtle quotation of the Russian folk tune ‘Suliko,’ Stalin's favorite piece of music.” Rostropovich said:
These allusions are undoubtedly not accidental, but they are camouflaged so craftily that even I didn't notice them to begin with. … I doubt if I would have detected this quotation if Dmitri Dmitriyevich hadn't pointed it out to me.
This Allegro con moto becomes spirited, if maybe not without irony. Abundant applause elicited a brief, lovely encore from Kanneh-Mason: his own composition, “Melody.”
The second half of the evening was even more memorable, a marvelous performance of Hector Berlioz’s magnificent Symphonie fantastique: Episode de la vie d'un artiste, Op. 14. The composer prepared a scenario for the premiere of the piece, beginning with this section for the first movement:
Part One: Reveries, Passions — The author imagines that a young musician, afflicted with that moral disease that a well-known writer calls the vague des passions, sees for the first time a woman who embodies all the charms of the ideal being he has imagined in his dreams, and he falls desperately in love with her. Through an odd whim, whenever the beloved image appears before the mind's eye of the artist, it is linked with a musical thought whose character, passionate but at the same time noble and shy, he finds similar to the one he attributes to his beloved.
This melodic image and the model it reflects pursue him incessantly like a double idée fixe.That is the reason for the constant appearance, in every movement of the symphony, of the melody that begins the first Allegro. The passage from this state of melancholy reverie, interrupted by a few fits of groundless joy, to one of frenzied passion, with its gestures of fury, of jealousy, its return of tenderness, its tears, its religious consolations.
The movement opens softly with a brief introduction, then becomes energetic—even, eventually, exuberant—although with reflective passages. This is the section of the scenario for the second movement:
Part Two: A Ball — The artist finds himself in the most varied situations — in the midst of the tumult of a party, in the peaceful contemplation of the beauties of nature; but everywhere, in town, in the country, the beloved image appears before him and disturbs his peace of mind.
This movement, an Allegro non troppo waltz, is melodious and charming and reaches a celebratory climax. Here is the next section of the scenario:
Part Three: Scene in the Fields — Finding himself one evening in the country, he hears in the distance two shepherds piping a ranz des vaches in dialogue. This pastoral duet, the scenery, the quiet rustling of the trees gently brushed by the wind, the hopes he has recently found some reason to entertain — all concur in affording his heart an unaccustomed calm, and in giving a more cheerful color to his ideas. He reflects upon his isolation; he hopes that his loneliness will soon be over. — But what if she were deceiving him! — This mingling of hope and fear, form the subject of the Adagio. At the end, one of the shepherds again takes up theranz des vaches; the other no longer replies.
The third movement—which was influenced by the Andante from Ludwig van Beethoven’s ‘Pastoral’ Symphony—has a gentle and bucolic, extended introduction, and then becomes increasingly dramatic, eventually returning to the world of its outset, but now with portentous intimations. Here is the following section from the scenario:
Part Four: March to the Scaffold — Convinced that his love is unappreciated, the artist poisons himself with opium. The dose, too weak to kill him, plunges him into a sleep accompanied by the most horrible visions. He dreams that he has killed his beloved, that he is condemned and led to the scaffold, and that he is witnessing his own execution. The procession moves forward to the sounds of a march that is now somber and fierce, now brilliant and solemn, in which the muffled noise of heavy steps gives way without transition to the noisiest clamor. At the end of the march the first four measures of the idée fixe reappear.
This exhilarating, even boisterous, march has an appropriately driving rhythm. The final section of the scenario reads thus:
Part Five: Dream of a Witches' Sabbath — He sees himself at the sabbath, in the midst of a frightful troop of ghosts, sorcerers, monsters of every kind, come together for his funeral. Strange noises, groans, bursts of laughter, distant cries which other cries seem to answer. The beloved melody appears again, but it has lost its character of nobility and shyness; it is no more than a dance tune, mean, trivial, and grotesque: it is she, coming to join the sabbath. — A roar of joy at her arrival. — She takes part in the devilish orgy. — Funeral knell, burlesque parody of the Dies Irae, sabbath round-dance. The sabbath round and the Dies Irae are combined.
The sinister music here becomes tumultuous, concluding forcefully. The artists deservedly received an enthusiastic ovation.
Juilliard Orchestra Present Strauss & Bartók
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- Parent Category: Film and the Arts
- Category: Reviews
- Published on Saturday, 25 May 2024 11:56
- Written by Jack Angstreich
Photo by Claudio Papapietro
At Lincoln Center’s Alice Tully Hall on the evening of Thursday, May 23rd, I had the great pleasure to attend the superb—if brief—commencement concert presented by the remarkably precocious players of the Juilliard Orchestra under the sterling direction of an eminent conductor, Marin Alsop.
The event started brilliantly with a thrilling realization—and the world premiere—of contemporary composer Hilary Purrington’s excellent, exquisitely scored Sercy—commissioned by this ensemble—which somewhat recalls the works of Aaron Copland’s middle, “American” period. In a useful note on the program by Juiiliard student Carys Sutherland, she records that “In the southern U.S., ‘sercy’ refers to a small, unexpected gift.” Purrington comments: “My time at Juilliard was an immense gift, so composing this work really does come from a place of gratitude.”
At least equally impressive was a marvelous version of Richard Strauss’s extraordinary, imaginative tone-poem from 1889, Don Juan, Op. 20. A brash opening rapidly leads to a sumptuous, neo-Wagnerian, Romantic theme; a lyrical ethos returns after an interval, interrupted by a passage in the more dramatic and playful style of the piece’s beginning which comes to dominate as the music builds in intensity until its unexpectedly quiet conclusion. Experiencing Don Juan again prompted a question: what explains the composer’s seemingly strong attraction to the picaresque—as seen also in his Till Eulenspiegel's Merry Pranks and Don Quixote—in this relatively early phase of his career?
The performance concluded magnificently with an outstanding rendition of Béla Bartók’s astonishing Concerto for Orchestra, which after innumerable encounters remains consistently surprising. The Introduzione has a somewhat hushed and uncanny—even sinister—beginning; the music becomes more forceful and agonized, while a more gentle interlude—featuring the oboe—that is partly recapitulated later in this movement—which closes powerfully—suggests a more affirmative outlook. The ensuing Giuocco delle coppie—marked Allegretto scherzando—unsurprisingly projects a more comic sensibility, gaining in momentum but ending softly. The Elegia that follows—with an Andante non troppo tempo—at its outset is solemn, mysterious, evocative, and Impressionistic but quickly becomes highly charged. The succeeding Intermezzo interrotto—an Allegretto—is ludic, enchanting and hauntingly beautiful, before becoming overtly satirical, and the Finale is propulsive, dynamic and joyful, with some eccentricities and folk-like interludes—it is completed in an exuberant manner.
The artists deservedly received an enthusiastic ovation.
May '24 Digital Week IV
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- Parent Category: Film and the Arts
- Category: Reviews
- Published on Wednesday, 22 May 2024 16:55
- Written by Kevin Filipski
