Vladimir Jurowski, Principal Conductor of the London Philharmonic Orchestra, led the Berliner Philharmoniker in a kaleidoscopic program that sparkled with the colors of the unfamiliar.
The event, transmitted live in the Digital Concert Hall, opened with Stravinsky's revisioning of the Bach Chorale variations on "Vom Himmel hoch da komm ich her," written in 1956.
The work is scored without violins and cellos, so Jurowski had the female members of the chorus sit in the chairs left and right of the conducting podium. The men were arranged behind the ensemble stage right, which made for a powerful motion of sound, a canonic debate, as they interacted with the female voices across the stage during the canon in inversion at the 9th in the final variation. The chorus sang while seated and used an early music sound that was mostly non-vibrato. They produced a consistently clever and engaging sonority.
Jurowski conducts with minimal motions. He projects a relaxed confidence that helped create a warm sound during a piece with the intellectual acrobatics of both Bach and Stravinsky intertwined.
The first half ended with Stravinsky's Requiem Canticles.
Jurowski imagined a soundworld that is slower than often played, but where ricocheted rhythms and echoed entrances accumulated in impact as the work progressed to through the "Rex Tremendae." The texture of the "Libera Me" was perfectly balanced with the four choral soloists blending with the four muted horns. The parlando choral part was given submerged in the background like a refracted summation of echos and ricochets.
After intermission we heard Das klagende Lied, the massive early work of Gustav Mahler, given in its three-movement format as presented in the 1997 Gustav Mahler Edition. During intermission, Chorus Master extraordinaire Simon Halsey explained that significant work was done to rethink vocal allocations in this sprawling early work that Halsey described as "fabulously impractical."
The changes were noticeable, and sometimes surprising, but they helped to create a convincing sound. Halsey should make these eloquent and carefully considered alternatives available in an amended performing edition.
A list of memorable passages in this performance would need to include the nightingale interlude in the first movement sung with sweet sound and piercing clarity by soprano Christine Schäfer. It would also include the fabulous boy-sopranos in both the second and third movements, and the richly overplayed quality of off-stage music as it began to mix with sounds from the orchestra during the third movement.
From the standpoint of production, I would have liked to see more of Jurowski during the Mahler. From a visual standpoint we often got lost within the shifting ensembles and soloists and missed the extremely varied left-hand gestures and eye-cues that make Jurowski's specific impact on music easier to understand.
This performance of Das klagende Lied is something of which to be proud. It will be its own exclamation point in the Mahler cycle that will be completed next season by the Berliner Philharmoniker.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Monday, June 6, 2011
Review of LA Phil Live in HD; Brahms at the Cinema
The Los Angeles Philharmonic finished the third of its three live broadcasts into theaters across America and Canada with an unusual program of late Brahms--the Double Concerto paired with the fourth symphony. This was an event where solid and inspired musicianship was contrasted with an awkward presentation that was a step back from either of the two earlier broadcasts.
First the music. Cellist Gautier Capuçon and his older brother, violinist Renaud Capuçon joined the orchestra as soloists in the Double Concerto. They lit up the place.
They have the kind of ensemble that you could only acquire by growing up together, and this was of value in a work where the soloists are often called upon to finish one another's thoughts. But what struck me as I listened was the differences in artistic personality between these two siblings. Gautier plays with a kind of reckless abandon, fierce and always on the edge. Renaud seeks the Apollonian, as at that wonderful passage in the recapitulation where he played the famous "Viotti" theme in a sweet and crystalline A major.
They returned for an encore--the Handel-Halvorsen Passacaglia--which they played with breathtaking precision. Though this work is commonly used as a encore after the double concerto, in this case it allowed us to anticipate the final movement of the Brahms fourth in advance.
Conductor Gustavo Dudamel took a very classical approach to the opening two movements of the fourth symphony with serene gestures and delicate balances. He led the shaping into the coda and then let us hear "Brahms Unbound."
During the intermission there was a segment with rehearsal footage. The orchestra was working on the second movement where the solo horn restates the opening motive 8-bars after rehearsal [A]. Dudamel stopped the ensemble several time looking for the best sound of the pizzicato strings that support the texture. He wanted the notes to sing. Finally he asked them for "pizzicato sostenuto." There was a warmer and more human sound that opened up when they played the passage.
It was a great insight into the way Dudamel rehearses. I think that the strings could have used the concept for all the pizz playing in this movement--it would have charged the support system for the oscillating tunes that seduce us throughout the movement.
The third movement marked a turning point in Dudamel's conception of the symphony. From here to the end he pulled it out of the box.
The fourth movement held together as an inspired unfolding, and the famous flute solo in the 12th variation was spellbinding. The trombone chorale that concludes this section set in 3/2 meter was also attractive, and this central world, where Brahms reveals a deeply personal outlook, was moving.
Great as the music was in this event, the production was often lacking.
I am a fan of John Lithgow, but wow, he was awkward when he wasn't obtrusive. His dialog was a series of trite interjections. When the Capuçon brothers returned from their encore he said, "Too bad you couldn't have played it faster, huh, huh, huh." Yeah, good one. We didn't see Lithgow trip on Gautier's endpin but Lithgow told us about it anyway. He also asked Renaud if he could touch his violin. Then he did. Really.
The production has continued its idea of reading text messages from selected viewers and addressing them to these great musicians. Banal, again. This segment is standing proof that just because something is technologically possible doesn't mean it is a good idea.
La Phil's President and CEO Deborah Borda was interviewed. She announced "big plans for the future" of these broadcasts, but had no details. None. Here we were, assembled--an audience that has purchased tickets and attended. It was a mistake to not make at least some announcement of what the new season would bring. A segment like this was of no use. None. Give us more time in orchestral rehearsal; give us more conversation with Dudamel about the music.
Let's hope there is an announcement about the new season in the near future. Let's hope that the productions are no longer this tedious. With music this great, anything less is unfair.
First the music. Cellist Gautier Capuçon and his older brother, violinist Renaud Capuçon joined the orchestra as soloists in the Double Concerto. They lit up the place.
They have the kind of ensemble that you could only acquire by growing up together, and this was of value in a work where the soloists are often called upon to finish one another's thoughts. But what struck me as I listened was the differences in artistic personality between these two siblings. Gautier plays with a kind of reckless abandon, fierce and always on the edge. Renaud seeks the Apollonian, as at that wonderful passage in the recapitulation where he played the famous "Viotti" theme in a sweet and crystalline A major.
They returned for an encore--the Handel-Halvorsen Passacaglia--which they played with breathtaking precision. Though this work is commonly used as a encore after the double concerto, in this case it allowed us to anticipate the final movement of the Brahms fourth in advance.
Conductor Gustavo Dudamel took a very classical approach to the opening two movements of the fourth symphony with serene gestures and delicate balances. He led the shaping into the coda and then let us hear "Brahms Unbound."
During the intermission there was a segment with rehearsal footage. The orchestra was working on the second movement where the solo horn restates the opening motive 8-bars after rehearsal [A]. Dudamel stopped the ensemble several time looking for the best sound of the pizzicato strings that support the texture. He wanted the notes to sing. Finally he asked them for "pizzicato sostenuto." There was a warmer and more human sound that opened up when they played the passage.
It was a great insight into the way Dudamel rehearses. I think that the strings could have used the concept for all the pizz playing in this movement--it would have charged the support system for the oscillating tunes that seduce us throughout the movement.
The third movement marked a turning point in Dudamel's conception of the symphony. From here to the end he pulled it out of the box.
The fourth movement held together as an inspired unfolding, and the famous flute solo in the 12th variation was spellbinding. The trombone chorale that concludes this section set in 3/2 meter was also attractive, and this central world, where Brahms reveals a deeply personal outlook, was moving.
Great as the music was in this event, the production was often lacking.
I am a fan of John Lithgow, but wow, he was awkward when he wasn't obtrusive. His dialog was a series of trite interjections. When the Capuçon brothers returned from their encore he said, "Too bad you couldn't have played it faster, huh, huh, huh." Yeah, good one. We didn't see Lithgow trip on Gautier's endpin but Lithgow told us about it anyway. He also asked Renaud if he could touch his violin. Then he did. Really.
The production has continued its idea of reading text messages from selected viewers and addressing them to these great musicians. Banal, again. This segment is standing proof that just because something is technologically possible doesn't mean it is a good idea.
La Phil's President and CEO Deborah Borda was interviewed. She announced "big plans for the future" of these broadcasts, but had no details. None. Here we were, assembled--an audience that has purchased tickets and attended. It was a mistake to not make at least some announcement of what the new season would bring. A segment like this was of no use. None. Give us more time in orchestral rehearsal; give us more conversation with Dudamel about the music.
Let's hope there is an announcement about the new season in the near future. Let's hope that the productions are no longer this tedious. With music this great, anything less is unfair.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Review of Berliner Philharmoniker Digital Concert Hall; Rattle conducts Mahler 6 and Berg 3 Pieces
Mahler's sixth symphony is a work that speaks clearly to the 21st century. It is music of juxtapositions, of maximums, complexities, and tensions all held together by crazy love. Simon Rattle led the Berliner Philharmoniker in a performance of Mahler 6 transmitted live in the Digital Concert Hall that shaped the seemingly irreconcilable.
There was a moment in the exposition of the first movement where "Alma's Theme," in F major slides from its complex presentation into a gentle closing powered by earthy triplet fifths. Rattle allowed a slight hesitation leading into this passage, giving the music a chance to breathe. Again after the lyrical violin phrase that greeted us there was another slight hesitation. The music was able to delay the inevitable juxtaposition of marching to which it was already committed.
The same section was not identical during the repeat --and this subtle change pointed the music toward the military episode the opened the development. These microscopic details may seem invisible in a symphony that sprawls. But it is the accumulation of details that make this music scream.
Rattle performed the inner movements in the Andante/Scherzo ordering. He paused to allow an orchestral tuning before the scherzo and then brought the finale attaca. The finale explored the controlled and cerebral side of the spectrum with effective outbursts--like reading Schopenhauer during a lightening storm.
Rattle did not give away the terrifying ending of this work with a huge gesture and you could feel the audience jump even though most of their reaction was off-camera.
Berg's Three Pieces for Orchestra (Drei Orchesterstücke) Op. 6 opened the program. The orchestra focused the elegant and sophisticated side of this music, sanding and smoothing away the wildness with which it is often performed.
There was a terrific balancing at the end of the second movement where the unusual timbre massed oboes, solo violins, massed clarinets, and four piccolos echoed one another and then froze in a mist of trills to create a sonority that was particularly crisp and tasty.
There is a passage at the end of the third movement where Berg seems to invent the sound world of Christopher Rouse. The Berliner Philharmoniker played the ending in relaxed and jazzy colors that became gradually edgy to prepare one of the great symphonic closes.
Berg and Mahler knew one another, and these two works communicated in sonic friendship.
There was a moment in the exposition of the first movement where "Alma's Theme," in F major slides from its complex presentation into a gentle closing powered by earthy triplet fifths. Rattle allowed a slight hesitation leading into this passage, giving the music a chance to breathe. Again after the lyrical violin phrase that greeted us there was another slight hesitation. The music was able to delay the inevitable juxtaposition of marching to which it was already committed.
The same section was not identical during the repeat --and this subtle change pointed the music toward the military episode the opened the development. These microscopic details may seem invisible in a symphony that sprawls. But it is the accumulation of details that make this music scream.
Rattle performed the inner movements in the Andante/Scherzo ordering. He paused to allow an orchestral tuning before the scherzo and then brought the finale attaca. The finale explored the controlled and cerebral side of the spectrum with effective outbursts--like reading Schopenhauer during a lightening storm.
Rattle did not give away the terrifying ending of this work with a huge gesture and you could feel the audience jump even though most of their reaction was off-camera.
Berg's Three Pieces for Orchestra (Drei Orchesterstücke) Op. 6 opened the program. The orchestra focused the elegant and sophisticated side of this music, sanding and smoothing away the wildness with which it is often performed.
There was a terrific balancing at the end of the second movement where the unusual timbre massed oboes, solo violins, massed clarinets, and four piccolos echoed one another and then froze in a mist of trills to create a sonority that was particularly crisp and tasty.
There is a passage at the end of the third movement where Berg seems to invent the sound world of Christopher Rouse. The Berliner Philharmoniker played the ending in relaxed and jazzy colors that became gradually edgy to prepare one of the great symphonic closes.
Berg and Mahler knew one another, and these two works communicated in sonic friendship.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
A Meditation on June by Tchaikovsky, Nicholas Breton, and Lev Oborin
The Russian magazine "Nouvellist" commissioned Tchaikovsky to write twelve short piano pieces inspired by the each of the twelve months. The corresponding music appeared in each publication in 1876. Collected in publication later the work became "The Seasons," Op. 37a.
For the month of June Tchaikovsky wrote the famous Barcarolle, a tune that has survived innumerable transcriptions with the elegant glide of its conversational grace.
Lev Oborin (1907-1974) was known for his illustrious collaborations with David Oistrakh, and for his tireless work with most of the great Soviet composers of the 20th century. Oborin shows us the how to enjoy the transitional interludes and the imaginative ending of June.
At [0:35] the sweeping melody that opens the movement has comes to a self-contained close. As it does, the camera angle suddenly shifts to reveal Oborin's hands. The playful scale-figure is derived directly from the opening tune, but its rising energy is countered by a falling bass line, and by an F that remains ringing--attracting us with the irrational logic of June.
The English writer Nicholas Breton (1545-1626) also caught the interludes of June in his book "The Twelve Moneths."
"It is now June," wrote Breton, "and the hay-makers are mustered to make an army for the field...Now doth the broad Oke comfort the weary Laborer, while under his shady Boughes he sits singing to his bread and cheese."
The central section of June becomes playful [1:49]. It breaks into the syncopated major, right on the edge of dancing, until it finally gives in to dance [2:09]. "The little lads make pipes of the straw," wrote Breton, "and they that cannot dance, will yet bee hopping."
After the return of the opening section there is one surprise left in June; an ethereal codetta. The camera angle changes again to reveal that Oborin cannot help but to show how cool this passage is in the subtlest lift of his head. This floating passage is like the "coole winds" of June that Breton knew.
"The Ayre now groweth somewhat warm," wrote Breton, "and the coole winds are very comfortable: the Sayler now makes merry passage, and the nimble Footman runnes with pleasure: In briefe, I thus conclude, I hold it a sweet season, the sense perfume, and the spirits comfort. Farewell."
For the month of June Tchaikovsky wrote the famous Barcarolle, a tune that has survived innumerable transcriptions with the elegant glide of its conversational grace.
Lev Oborin (1907-1974) was known for his illustrious collaborations with David Oistrakh, and for his tireless work with most of the great Soviet composers of the 20th century. Oborin shows us the how to enjoy the transitional interludes and the imaginative ending of June.
At [0:35] the sweeping melody that opens the movement has comes to a self-contained close. As it does, the camera angle suddenly shifts to reveal Oborin's hands. The playful scale-figure is derived directly from the opening tune, but its rising energy is countered by a falling bass line, and by an F that remains ringing--attracting us with the irrational logic of June.
The English writer Nicholas Breton (1545-1626) also caught the interludes of June in his book "The Twelve Moneths."
"It is now June," wrote Breton, "and the hay-makers are mustered to make an army for the field...Now doth the broad Oke comfort the weary Laborer, while under his shady Boughes he sits singing to his bread and cheese."
The central section of June becomes playful [1:49]. It breaks into the syncopated major, right on the edge of dancing, until it finally gives in to dance [2:09]. "The little lads make pipes of the straw," wrote Breton, "and they that cannot dance, will yet bee hopping."
After the return of the opening section there is one surprise left in June; an ethereal codetta. The camera angle changes again to reveal that Oborin cannot help but to show how cool this passage is in the subtlest lift of his head. This floating passage is like the "coole winds" of June that Breton knew.
"The Ayre now groweth somewhat warm," wrote Breton, "and the coole winds are very comfortable: the Sayler now makes merry passage, and the nimble Footman runnes with pleasure: In briefe, I thus conclude, I hold it a sweet season, the sense perfume, and the spirits comfort. Farewell."
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