New York Philharmonic Perform Boulez & Debussy at Lincoln Center

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Parent Category: Film and the Arts

Category: Reviews

Published on Thursday, 09 October 2025 13:58

Written by Jack Angstreich

Photo by Chris Lee

At Lincoln Center’s wonderful David Geffen Hall, on the night of Saturday, October 4th, I had the pleasure to attend a superb concert—of music by Pierre Boulez and Claude Debussy—presented by the New York Philharmonic, under the exceptional direction of Esa-Pekka Salonen, one of the finest contemporary conductors.

In the first half of the evening, the works were performed without pauses in between them, starting with Boulez’s very brief Notation IV, Rythmique, for Solo Piano, from 1945, played by Pierre-Laurent Aimard, himself a protégé of the composer and widely regarded as one of the world’s greatest living pianists. This was followed by a powerful account of the orchestral reworking of the same piece, the final revision of which was undertaken in 1987. 

Even more memorable was a sterling realization of Debussy’s marvelous Gigues from his outstanding set of Images for Orchestra, completed in 1912. His colleague André Caplet assisted in the orchestration of the piece, writing of it in 1923 as follows: “Gigues … sad Gigues … tragic Gigues … The portrait of a soul in pain, uttering its slow, lingering lamentation on the reed of an oboe d'amore.” He continued: “Underneath the convulsive shudderings, the sudden efforts at restraint, the pitiful grimaces, which serve as a kind of disguise, we recognize … the spirit of sadness, infinite sadness.” In the liner notes for a 1967 recording of symphonic works by Debussy in which Boulez conducted The Cleveland Orchestra, he wrote this about it:

… I do not find the Scottish element the most significant feature of Gigues, but rather the oscillation between a slow melody and a lively rhythm. I use the work “oscillation,” but I might equally say “coinciding,” because, when the two elements are superimposed, they give the impression of a double breathing, and this is most unusual. Timbre plays a primary part in separating the two planes of sound; and by giving the slow opening theme exclusively to the oboe d'amore the composer helps to isolate it in the listener's mind. It is not only that the tone of the oboe d'amore is pretty and unusual, intended to recall that of the bagpipes and excellently suited to the expression in this opening passage. It also makes us aware that the tempo of this tune will not be “disturbed” by the appearance of other figures in a different tempo. 

After this, Aimard executed the Notation VII, Hiératique, which was immediately succeeded by its impressive orchestral version from 1997. This preceded an excellent performance of Debussy’s extraordinary Rondes de printemps, also from Images. About this composition, Boulez wrote in the same liner notes:

In Rondes de printemps Debussy makes use of a favourite rhythm of five beats in the bar, subdivided into two and three, with repeated notes … . The Frenchness of this piece is certainly the least noticeable thing about it, at least to foreign ears, and was, I suppose, wholly absorbed by the composer's own personality, so that there was no room for the “exotic.” His different handlings of “Nous n'irons plus au bois” are not in fact the most remarkable thing about this piece either. It may well be that Debussy felt most free when he was least concerned with the accuracy of his quotations.

Aimard then played Notation II, Très vif, before its compelling, final orchestral revision from 1987 that concluded the first half of the event. Salonen commented in a recent interview on Boulez's Notations: 

Notations is a very fascinating series of orchestral compositions. He didn't consider a work of his to be a closed unit, like a final word — everything was a continuous process — and Notations gives us a really fascinating point of view of this. 

What we are going to experience in the audience is like snapshots at a certain phase of the life of the composition that we are going to be hearing. The original Notations are these tiny, miniature piano pieces that Boulez wrote in 1945 — they are very much in the Webern tradition, extremely brief in expression and form, and each basically dealing with one idea. Decades later he takes one of these tiny piano pieces and expands it for a massive orchestra. It's really amazing to see that the DNA itself doesn't change and is able to produce that kind of monster. Notations II and IV are these quickly moving, massive pieces in which Boulez uses the full symphony orchestra including eight percussionists. Number VII, for me, is a little gem. That's Boulez in his most Ravel-ian, Debussy-esque mode, full of very serious beauty and a lot of ripples on the surface of an otherwise calm sea. I find that actually very poetic.

The second half of the concert was even more remarkable, beginning with Aimard returning to the stage for a magnificent rendition of Debussy’s seldom presented but beautiful Fantaisie for Piano and Orchestra, which was finished in 1896 but never performed in the composer’s lifetime. The initial, Andante ma non troppo movement opens lyrically, eventually becoming moodier and more turbulent, even dramatically so, but it concludes triumphantly. The ensuing, exquisite Lento e molto espressivo movement is more subdued and reflective—it too increases in intensity—while the closing Allegro is lively and virtuosic, ending forcefully.

The program attained its pinnacle with an enchanting reading of the same composer’s masterwork, La Mer, which received its final revision in 1910. The first movement—From Dawn till Noon on the Sea—starts somewhat mysteriously, soon acquiring a shimmering texture, but superseded by impressionistic passages before closing majestically. The next movement—The Play of the Waves—is, appropriately, more ludic in inspiration on the whole, but with moments of urgency; it concludes softly. The last movement—Dialogue of the Wind and the Sea—begins portentously and the music is often agitated—if rewardingly so—even tempestuous, but with quiet interludes; it finishes with a thrilling, propulsive climax.

The artists deservedly received enthusiastic applause.

Salonen’s tribute to Boulez with this ensemble continues through the following week.

October '25 Digital Week I

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Parent Category: Film and the Arts

Category: Reviews

Published on Thursday, 09 October 2025 02:26

Written by Kevin Filipski

In-Theater Releases of the Week 

Bone Lake 

The Ice Tower 

Jacob’s Ladder 

Ju Dou 

The Librarians 

Streaming Release of the Week 

Blu-ray Release of the Week

CD Release of the Week 

New York Philharmonic Turn on the "Devil's Radio" at Lincoln Center

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Parent Category: Film and the Arts

Category: Reviews

Published on Monday, 06 October 2025 13:59

Written by Jack Angstreich

Photo by Chris Lee

At Lincoln Center’s excellent David Geffen Hall, on the night of Saturday, September 27th, I had the pleasure to attend a fine concert presented by the New York Philharmonic under the distinguished direction of conductor David Robertson, here replacing Marta Gadolińska who had to withdraw on account of illness.

The event began auspiciously with the beautifully realized New York premiere of the engaging Devil’s Radio from 2014 by Mason Bates—who was present to receive the audience’s acclaim—the title of which, according to the note on the program, references an old Southern phrase, “Rumor is the Devil’s radio.” In his score for the work, the composer includes the following comment on the piece:

Sometimes the music is coldly propulsive, as at the opening, which uses a kind of sparkling “musical lure” in the upper woodwinds. But this is soon undercut by a bluesy bass line and energetic percussion, ultimately building into a soaring melody that's best described as vainglorious. Indeed, the work has ample brightness to counter its dark corners, and in this way it can be heard as a fanfare our villain might write for himself, complete with grandiose flourishes and an infectious swing section. But this lightness quickly evaporates in the work's final minutes, when thunderous hits in the low brass suggest a Goliath-sized figure throwing his weight around. He bows out with a wink and nod, ever the gentleman.

A remarkable soloist, Leila Josefowicz—who wore a flamboyant, elaborate, dark gown—then entered the stage for an admirable version of Karol Szymanowski’s imposing, undervalued Concerto No. 2 for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 61, which was finished in 1933. The work begins, with a tempo of Moderato molto tranquillo, almost lugubriously, eventually becoming more agitated, although with more reflective passages. A solemn, protracted cadenza—composed and credited to Paweł Kochański, the violinist that premiered the piece and who is its dedicatee—precedes more music of a high seriousness before the composition turns more sprightly as well as lyrical and impassioned, then rising to a powerful climax and closing triumphantly. Enthusiastic applause elicited an impressive, even dazzling, encore from the soloist: an excerpt from Lachen verlernt by Finnish composer Esa-Pekka Salonen, who will be conducting this ensemble in several performances during the following two weeks.

The second half of the evening was comparable in merit: an accomplished reading of Witold Lutosławski’s striking, too seldom played Concerto for Orchestra, that was completed in 1954. (The piece is especially reminiscent of the music of Igor Stravinsky and Béla Bartók.) The initial, Allegro maestoso movement, titled Intrada, starts portentously, sustaining a sense of dramatic tension across most of its length, until an extended, quiet episode. The ensuing Capriccio notturno e arioso movement, marked Vivace, is more playful, even insistently so, with a somber, commanding, even ominous Trio; it concludes softly. The weighty finale—Passacaglia, toccata e corale—is often turbulent but again with subdued, as well as ludic, interludes; it intensifies before ending forcefully and suddenly.

The artists deservedly received a standing ovation.