Lost Classics With The Philadelphia Orchestra

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Parent Category: Film and the Arts

Category: Reviews

Published on Wednesday, 02 November 2022 15:10

Written by Jack Angstreich

Yannick Nézet-Séguin conducts the Philadelphia Orchestra. Photo by Jennifer Taylor.

At Carnegie Hall, on the evening of Friday, October 28th, I had the great privilege to attend a terrific concert featuring the superb musicians of the Philadelphia Orchestra under the exhilarating direction of Yannick Nézet-Séguin.

The event began with its greatest work, a ravishing presentation of Maurice Ravel’s glorious Le tombeau de Couperin. Paul J. Horsley in a program note provides some useful background:

The concept of the tombeau, or “homage-piece,” dates back many centuries. French composers of the 17th century commonly wrote sets of chamber or keyboard pieces—which they calledtombeaux(literally “tombs”) or occasionallyapothéoses—to pay musical tribute to a dead colleague.

He adds:

Couperin himself (1668–1733) wrote sets of homage-pieces, too, including apothéoses for two early Baroque masters, Jean-Baptiste Lully and Arcangelo Corelli. Ravel’s set of pieces thus paid tribute not only to a French master, but also to a distinctly French tradition of musical tribute. At the same time, the work took on another dimension related specifically to the war: Each of the six piano movements is dedicated to a friend or colleague lost on the battlefield.

And:

Pianist Marguerite Long, who later was to play the premiere of the composer’s G-Major Piano Concerto, presented the first performances of the piano version of the Tombeau in Paris on April 11, 1919. As he often did with his keyboard works, Ravel created orchestrations of four of the six, which were performed in Paris in February 1920 and made into a very popular ballet by the Swedish Ballet the same year.

The Prélude that opens the piece is sprightly, if not entirely so, whereas in the ensuing, dance-like Forlane, the emotional undercurrents move more strongly to the fore. The Menuet that follows is more lyrical, with an elegiac quality, while its Trio is more somber and meditative. The closing Rigaudon is the most energetic movement, with a quieter more plaintive section.

The remainder of the first half of the concert consisted of a confident account of Florence Price’s wonderful Symphony No. 3. About the composer, program annotator John Michael Cooper writes: “Her First Symphony remained unpublished until 2008, her Second Symphony is missing, and her Fourth Symphony (1945) went unperformed in her lifetime and unpublished until 2020.” About the Third Symphony, he adds:

It was performed by Valter Poole and the Michigan WPA Symphony Orchestra on November 6 and 8, 1940. Those performances were a success, and First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt reported enthusiastically on the work in her syndicated newspaper column,My Day.

And: “It was not heard again in her lifetime and remained unperformed until 2001 and unpublished until 2008.” Price described the work as “a cross section of present-day Negro life and thought with its heritage of that which is past, paralleled or influenced by concepts of the present day,” which Cooper glosses as “a reference to the Third Symphony’s cultivation of dissonant passages, jarring percussion, and other Modernist expressive devices that were absent from the First Symphony but central to 20th-century music in general, and to much of Price’s later music.”

The opening movement is agitated—contrasting both a with slower section seemingly influenced by Negro spirituals and ‘populist’ music in a jauntier vein—but it eventually unfolds into a grander statement. The succeeding Andante ma non troppo, which is more cheerful for much of its length, is the purest Americana, and the Juba:Allegrois ebullient, with the strongest connection to popular music of all the movements, while theScherzo: Finaleis tumultuous but ultimately triumphant.

After intermission, the impressive soloist Beatrice Rana, who wore a sparkling—indeed dazzling—dress, entered the stage to admirably perform Clara Wieck-Schumann’s underrated Piano Concerto. In a useful note for the program, Christopher H. Gibbs comments on the composer:

She began writing her ambitious Piano Concerto, Op. 7, in late 1832 or early 1833 at age 14 and premiered the piece with Felix Mendelssohn conducting the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra in November 1835. It is her only surviving orchestral composition. The few works she wrote after her marriage tended to be occasional pieces, usually birthday and Christmas gifts, although in 1846 she produced her magnificent Piano Trio in G Minor, Op. 17. Following Robert’s death, when she was 37, she only wrote one minor piece, a march. Her intense musical activities continued as she went on performing, teaching, tending to her husband’s legacy, and being Brahms’s principal adviser.

He adds:

It is unclear who orchestrated the first movement (the orchestra does not play in the second), but the instrumentation there is generally quite modest, usually scored just for strings, or entirely absent. Clara performed the concerto across Europe many times in the years to follow, fulfilling her hope that it would please audiences and be in demand. 

The opening Allegro maestoso was exuberant and, like the work as a whole, an expression of full-blown Romanticism. Gibbs remarks on the inward and song-like middle movement that “It is initially for piano alone until a solo cello joins for an extended duet,” here ably performed by Hai-Ye Ni. The Finale recapitulates theethosof the first movement with even greater drama.

The concert concluded thrillingly with a mesmerizing version of Ravel’s fabulous Boléro. According to Horsley, “Ravel said later that he wanted to write a piece that had ‘no form, properly speaking, and no modulation, or almost none—just rhythm and orchestra.’” The composer described it as “a piece lasting 17 minutes and consisting wholly of orchestral effects without music—one long and very gradual crescendo.”

The musicians received a very enthusiastic, standing ovation.

Broadway Play Review—“Death of a Salesman” with Wendell Pierce

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Parent Category: Film and the Arts

Category: Reviews

Published on Tuesday, 01 November 2022 22:44

Written by Kevin Filipski

Wendell Pierce and Sharon D Clarke in Death of a Salesman (photo: Joan Marcus)

The Spellbinding Sounds of Gabriela Ortiz & The Los Angeles Philharmonic

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Parent Category: Film and the Arts

Category: Reviews

Published on Monday, 31 October 2022 14:38

Written by Jack Angstreich

Conductor Gustavo Dudamel (L) & soloist María Dueñas (R) with the Los Angeles Philharmonic. Photo by Chris Lee

At Carnegie Hall, on the evening of Tuesday, October 25th, I had the privilege to attend a fabulous concert presented by the splendid Los Angeles Philharmonic—under the masterful direction of Gustavo Dudamel—the first of two on consecutive nights.

The event opened remarkably with the New York premiere of Gabriela Ortiz’s eccentric, eclectic, impressively orchestrated Altar de cuerda for Violin and Orchestra, admirably performed by the attractive soloist, María Dueñas, who wore a gorgeous, shimmering gown. In his note for this program, Juan Arturo Brennan usefully provides some context for the piece:

As of May 2022, Mexican composer Gabriela Ortiz has created seven works in the series of “musical altars,” and there is no reason to assume that she will not write more in the future. This is the full list so far:

Altar de neón(1995), for four percussionists and chamber orchestra
Altar de muertos(1997), for string quartet, water drums, and masks
Altar de piedra(2002), for three percussionists and orchestra
Altar de fuego(2010), for orchestra
Altar de luz(2013), for tape
Altar de viento(2015), for flute and orchestra

He adds:

In recent years, Ortiz has established a close working relationship with the Los Angeles Philharmonic, a relationship which has produced several works and their respective premieres: Altar de piedra (2002),Téenek (2017), Pico-Bite-Beat (2018), Yanga (2019), and Kauyumari (2021). When in 2021 the opportunity for a further collaboration arose, the composer was ready (and willing) to write a violin concerto. Then, Gustavo Dudamel, the Philharmonic’s music and artistic director, put forth the name of the brilliant young Spanish violinist María Dueñas. Thus, the stage was set for the creation ofAltar de cuerda (String Altar), for violin and orchestra.

He also says that “Ortiz wrote Altar de cuerda between September and December 2021, on a commission from the Los Angeles Philharmonic, and the work is, as it happens, the first concerto dedicated to María Dueñas,” and that “Ortiz proceeds according to tradition and chooses the usual three-movement structure, fast–slow–fast.”

The first movement—titled “Morisco chilango,” which means “Chilango Moorish” (“chilango” is a term for Mexico City natives of which the composer is one) and thus alludes to the Andalusian background of the violinist—is exuberant, even extravagant. The second movement, “Canto abierto” has an unearthly quality; Brennan states: “At the beginning and at the end of the movement, all wind players (both woodwind and brass) play tuned crystal glasses, which create an additional harmonic field.” He adds about the finale, which was the most exciting and enjoyable movement: “’Maya déco’ is a virtuosic, rhythmic, and fast-paced movement, with a constant dialogue between the solo violin and the orchestra; near the end of the piece, there is a fully written-out cadenza for the soloist.” The composer was present to receive the audience’s acclaim and Dueñas played a challenging encore: Francisco Tárrega’sRecuerdos de la Alhambra, arranged by Ruggiero Ricci.

The highlight of the evening, however, was an enthralling reading of Gustav Mahler’s magnificent First Symphony. About the piece, program annotator John Mangum explains:

After its Budapest premiere, Mahler revised it for performances in Hamburg (1893) and Weimar (1894), finally excising an entire movement and premiering the work in (nearly) its present form in Berlin in 1896. The version published in 1899 reflects further revision, primarily to the work’s orchestration.

The introduction to the first movement was hushed and mysterious; after this, a joyous, pastoral ethos dominated at the outset, although it eventually acquired a more dramatic character. The next movement is a brilliant Ländler, also exultant, with a more subdued, charming trio section. The third movement—certainly the symphony’s most ironic—is a haunting funeral march, unusually combined with Klezmer music and featuring a lyrical interlude. The amazing finale begins tumultuously and very energetically, although it accedes to a yearning Romanticism; the turbulence returns and then at length builds to a resoundingly affirmative conclusion.

The second concert was also outstanding, beginning exhilaratingly with a stunning account of another New York premiere of an Ortiz work, the mesmerizing, superbly orchestrated Kauyumari. I here reproduce the composer’s comment on it:

Among the Huichol people of Mexico,kauyumarimeans “blue deer.” The blue deer represents a spiritual guide, one that is transformed through an extended pilgrimage into a hallucinogenic cactus called peyote. It allows the Huichol to communicate with their ancestors, do their bidding, and take on their role as guardians of the planet. Each year, these Native Mexicans embark on a symbolic journey to “hunt” the blue deer, making offerings in gratitude for having been granted access to the invisible world, through which they also are able to heal the wounds of the soul.

When I received the commission from the Los Angeles Philharmonic to compose a piece that would reflect on our return to the stage following the pandemic, I immediately thought of the blue deer and its power to enter the world of the intangible as akin to a celebration of the reopening of live music. Specifically, I thought of a Huichol melody sung by the De La Cruz family—dedicated to recording ancestral folklore.

I used this material within the orchestral context and elaborated on the construction and progressive development of the melody and its accompaniment in such a way that it would symbolize the blue deer. This in turn was transformed into an orchestral texture which gradually evolves into a complex rhythm pattern, to such a degree that the melody itself becomes unrecognizable, giving rise to a choral wind section while maintaining an incisive rhythmic accompaniment as a form of reassurance that the world will naturally follow its course.

While composing this piece, I noted once again how music has the power to grant us access to the intangible, healing our wounds and binding us to what can only be expressed through sound.

Although life is filled with interruptions,Kauyumariis a comprehension and celebration of the fact that each of these rifts is also a new beginning.

Ortiz again entered the stage for an ovation.

The fantastic soloist, Anne Akiko Meyers—she wore a sparkling silver dress—then emerged to dazzlingly perform another exceptional New York premiere: the extraordinaryFandangofor Violin and Orchestra by Arturo Márquez. The composer’s remarks on it are as follows:

The fandango is known worldwide as a popular Spanish dance, and specifically as one of the fundamental styles (palos) of flamenco. Since its appearance in the 18th century in Spain, thefandangomoved to the Americas, where it acquired a personality according to the land that adopted and cultivated it. Today, we can still find it in countries such as Ecuador, Colombia, and Mexico. In the latter—specifically, in the state of Veracruz and in the Huasteca area—the fandango acquired a tinge different from the Spanish genre. For centuries, it has been a special festivity for musicians, singers, poets, and dancers. Everyone gathers around a wooden platform to stamp their feet, sing, and improvisedécimas(poetry consisting of 10-line stanzas) for the occasion.

In 2018, I received an email from violinist Anne Akiko Meyers, in which she offered me the possibility of writing a work for violin and orchestra that had to do with Mexican music. The proposal interested and fascinated me from that very moment. I had already tried, unsuccessfully, to compose a violin concerto some 20 years earlier with ideas that were based on the Mexicanfandango. I had known this music since I was a child, listening to it in the cinema, on the radio, and played by my father (Arturo Márquez, Sr.), a mariachi violinist. Also, the violin was my first instrument when I was 14 years old (1965); I studied it in La Puente, California, in Los Angeles County, where the work was (eventually) premiered.

Fandango for Violin and Orchestra is formally a concerto in three movements. The first movement, “Folia Tropical,” has the form of the sonata: introduction, exposition with its two themes, bridge, development, and recapitulation. The introduction and the two themes share the same motif in a totally different way. Emotionally, the introduction is a call to the remote history of thefandango; the first theme and the bridge, this one totally rhythmic, are based on the Caribbean “clave,” and the second is almost like a romantic bolero. Foliasare ancient dances that come from Portugal and Spain.

The second movement, “Plegaria” (“Prayer”), pays tribute to the mariachihuapangoalong with the Spanishfandango. It is also a freely treated chaconne. Perhaps few would know that the chaconne, as well as thezarabanda, were two dances forbidden by the Spanish Inquisition, long before they became part of European Baroque music.

The third movement, “Fandanguito,” is a tribute to the famousFandanguito Huasteco. The music of this region features violin,jarana huasteca(a small rhythm guitar), andhuapanguera(bass guitar with five courses of strings), and, of course, it accompanies the singing ofsonesand sung or recited improvisation. Thehuastecoviolin has certain features similar to Baroque style, but with great rhythmic vitality and rich variety of bow strokes. This third movement demands great virtuosity from the soloist, and it is the music that I have kept in my heart for decades.

I think that for every composer it is a real challenge to compose new works in old forms, especially when that repertoire is part of the fundamental structure of classical music. But I have preserved my seven capital principles: tonality, modality, melody, rhythm, imaginary folk tradition, harmony, and orchestral color.

The opening movement, “Folia Tropical,” was lively and delightful, with a lyrical passage. The second, “Plegaria (Chaconne),” was also appealing, although more intimate, with some more dramatic elements, succeeded by an ebullient finale.

The concert concluded rewardingly with a confident version of Aaron Copland’s imposing Third Symphony, which program annotator John Henken aptly describes as “abstract Americana.” On Copland’s composition of the work, he reveals that:

He was working on a commission from conductor Serge Koussevitzky, and the knowledge that the work would be dedicated to the memory of Koussevitzky’s wife, Natalie, certainly influenced the lyric cast of the symphony. It was completed in 1946 at the MacDowell Colony in New Hampshire and premiered by Koussevitzky and the Boston Symphony Orchestra in October of that year. The conductor had no reservations about what Copland supplied, labeling it “the greatest American symphony—it goes from the heart to the heart.”

The majestic opening movement, like the symphony as a whole, radiates a pure Copland sound, and indeed casts a spell. Copland characterized it thus: “The themes—three in number—are plainly stated: the first in strings at the very start without introduction; the second, in a related mood, in violas and oboes; the third, of a bolder nature, in trombones and horns.” The ensuingAllegro molto,is dance-like although weighty, but concludes with a powerful affirmation. The third movement is more meditative at first but becomes more spirited. About it, Copland said it “is the freest of all in formal structure. Although it is built sectionally, the various sections are intended to emerge one from the other in continuous flow, somewhat in the manner of a closely knit series of variations.” Henken notes that “The ‘continuous flow’ of the movement extends even into the finale, which has its own introduction, based on Copland’sFanfare for the Common Man.” This is the most complex and ambitious movement and it concludes stupendously.

Especially enthusiastic applause drew forth a terrific encore: “Celebration” from the great score for the ballet,Billy the Kid.