A Stirring Mahler 3rd in Seattle

It has indeed been a treat this season, to be able to hear performances of not one but two Mahler symphonies – the 5^thearlier this season, and now the monumental 3^rd. No stranger to Seattle audiences, conductor Kahchun Wong came with an impressive list of accomplishments, and indeed proved to be an extremely talented young conductor. And joining the Seattle orchestra in this memorable performance were mezzo-soprano Julie Boulianne, members of the Seattle Symphony Chorale, and the Northwest Boychoir. 

 

Right from the outset, Wong brought out truly outstanding playing from every section of the orchestra, with the horn solo at the outset establishing the mood of grandeur and a real sense of urgency. Wong maintained the forward impetus throughout the gigantic first movement, with the oft-recurring trumpet calls with its almost primeval sound. There was also a palpable sense of weight in the string playing, especially in the prominent bass parts. 

 

Wong shaped the opening Tempo de Menuetto movement with the requisite Viennese lilt, preparing the listener for that beautiful chord played by the violins and harps at measure 28. The L’istesso tempo section was played with that typically Mahlerian combination of humour and pathos. This tone of irony continued on in the third movement, with outstanding playing especially by the wind section. 

 

Julie Boulianne has a beautifully dark quality in her voice so appropriate for the fourth movement. I did, however, feel that there was an emotional detachment and a want of depth of feeling in her singing that evening. I could not help but miss the emotional depth with which Maureen Forrester sang this movement. Wong and the orchestra supported Boulianne’s vocal lines with great sensitivity, and again, I loved the weight and tone, the sense of “substance” in the string playing. 

 

The fifth movement was just wonderfully done all around, with members of the Seattle Symphony Chorale and Northwest Boychoir aptly capturing Mahler child-like vision of heavenly bliss, a theme he explores to even greater effect in the Fourth Symphony. For me, Boulianne’s singing captured the mood of this movement to much greater effect than she did in the fourth movement. 

 

The crowning glory of the entire symphony, indeed, one of the greatest symphonic endings in Mahler (except for the final movement of the Ninth Symphony), has to be the Langsam movement. I have to again comment on the beautiful string tone of the orchestra as well as Wong’s incredible sense of timing and pacing – what a great feat for such a young conductor. There was a feeling of organic unity in the music, and not merely a series of beautiful episodes. At the end of the performance, there was an almost audible sigh from the entire audience, almost as if all of us were holding our breath throughout the past half hour. 

 

This performance is an amazing accomplishment for such a young conductor, not just in terms of holding the orchestra together, but in having an organic view of the entire work, from beginning to end, and of pacing the performance the way he did. I believe, with a piece like Mahler’s 3^rd, a conductor must be able to see the way clearly before him, but at the same time lose himself within the music, to lose and find himself at the same time. With time, as he is able to lose himself more into, and surrender himself more to the emotional core of the music, I believe the results might just be transcendental. 

 

 

Two Expressions of Love in Seattle

This past Thursday’s Seattle Symphony Orchestra concert featured two very different expressions of love – David Robertson’s Light Forming a Piano Concerto, a “love letter” written for his wife Orli Shaham, the piano soloist of the evening, and Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 5 in C-sharp minor, who’s ethereal Adagietto movement is, according to conductor Willem Mengelberg, an ardent love letter for the composer’s wife Alma. 

 

It is difficult to judge a complex new work without the score or any prior knowledge about the work of the composer. David Robertson, who was also conductor of the evening’s performance, wrote in the programme notes that he composed the work with his wife’s formidable pianistic and musical abilities in mind. Certainly, the concerto poses incredible technical hurdles for any pianist who attempts it. The three movements of the work, played without pause, takes the audience through a gamut of moods and emotions. From the restless opening movement (“the uncertain music of their voices”), to the slow movement (“amphorae of the heart”) that obviously forms the emotional core of the entire work, and to the joyous final movement (“Resounding to joy”), Shaham was in complete technical and musical command of the Olympian challenges her husband laid down in this work. The soloist was also very aware of the many interplays between piano and the instruments of the orchestra, especially the horns and bassoon. The middle movement, given a deeply felt performance by Shaham, was indeed a sort of chamber music, with much dialogue between pianist and the orchestral musicians. In spite of the large orchestra the work calls for, Robertson managed to always maintain a clarity of texture, both for the hardworking soloist and in the orchestra texture.

 

It is difficult for us to imagine that there was a time when the music of Gustav Mahler was found to be strange, vulgar, and downright incomprehensible. Mahler’s time indeed has come, and this enthusiasm does not seem to be going away, as any performance of a Mahler symphony would form the highlight of any orchestra’s season. Last evening, Robertson and the musicians of the orchestra offered us the composer’s Symphony No. 5 in C-sharp minor, in a performance that left me emotionally overwhelmed. 

 

In the funeral march of the opening movement, Robertson kept up the pace of the march, which resulted in a frightening stillness in the music. Even with the massiveness of the sound, there was always a transparency of texture, and the entire movement was wonderfully paced, with the sound carefully gauged such that the listener felt that there is still something in reserve. The seating arrangement of the string section, with the first and second violins seated on opposite sides of the stage, also gave a different perspective to the texture of the polyphony. There was truly stellar trumpet playing last evening, especially from principal trumpet David Gordon, whose sound really formed the palette of the sonic landscape throughout the symphony.

 

My only reservation is that the final two triplet figures, played by muted trumpets, did not have more of a far-away, almost disappearing quality to them; as well, the final pizzicato C-sharp by the violas, celli and basses, could have had much more vehemence. 

 

The gigantic rondo which forms the second movement – Mit grosser Vehemenz – was indeed that. There was some truly spectacular playing from all the members of the orchestra. In the long cello recitative based on the main March theme, the orchestra’s cellists played with a palpable depth of feeling that was deeply touching. 

 

In the Scherzo, I have some reservations about the lightness of the sound, a lack of a sense of weight, a pesante as well as dunkel quality in the sound and a little lacking in the cohesion of the logic. Perhaps the conductor’s desire for transparency of texture carried over into this movement? That said, the movement was splendidly played by members of the orchestra, with truly virtuosic playing by principal horn Jeffrey Fair. The pacing of the second Trio, the dialogue between the obligato horn and the celli, leading to a hushed passage by a magically played pizzicato strings, and then a nostalgic waltz, was well paced indeed.

 

The Seattle Symphony strings played the justly famous Adagietto with a great beauty of sound and sensitivity. Even though the composer marked this movement Sehr langsam, conductors have taken this movement in a range of tempi. Robertson took the music in a somewhat moderate tempo, and paced the movement well, not pushing it to its emotional edge, but letting the music unfolds naturally, and always taking care to maintain the flow of the music. 

 

From the almost rustic opening of the Rondo-Finale to the triumphal brass chorale that ends the movement, Robertson inspired the orchestra to a totally committed, rousing performance, bringing us in the emotional journey from utter tragedy in the beginning to its life-affirming, joyous conclusion. It was not the heart-on-sleeve, hyper-emotional Mahler advocated by Leonard Bernstein, but one that presents the masterful architecture of the composer’s design, as well as a performance that touches our emotions with its sonic splendor and depth of feeling. The end result is a performance that I found deeply moving. The sounds of this majestic symphony resounded in my mind during the long trip back to Vancouver.

 

Robertson is a thoughtful conductor with deep insights into the music, who invites (often with a smile) rather than commands the musicians to contribute in the collective act of music-making. There was obviously wonderful chemistry between orchestra and conductor. I am quite aware that the orchestra is going through a search for a new music director. Judging from last evening’s performance, I do not think they could do any better than David Robertson.

 

 

A New Beginning

The Seattle Symphony opened its new season this past Saturday under its new music director, Thomas Dausgaard. When Ludovic Morlot announced his departure from the orchestra, the organization settled on a relatively safe choice in Dausgaard, who was already known to the musicians and the city as Principal Guest Conductor.

Saturday’s concert seemed to vindicate that choice, as the chemistry between conductor and orchestra was readily apparent.

Dausgaard looked to his Danish roots, and opened the concert with Carl Nielsen’s Overture to Maskarade. The musicians responded well to Dausgaard’s direction and played this uplifting music with great verve as well as a bright, open sound.

The choice of engaging pianist Daniil Trifonov was probably the guarantee for a full house for the performance. The soloist’s vehicle was Rachmaninov’s rarely played Piano Concerto No. 4 in G minor, Op. 40. If anyone could be a champion of this “orphan” of a work of the composer, it would be Trifonov. The artist gave a barnstorming reading of the concerto, identifying totally with the Rachmaninov idiom as well as the brooding, dark colours of the music. He played the outer movements with a real sense of the propulsive quality of the score. In the second movement, he gave the music a feeling of eerie stillness, yet keeping its forward momentum. Unlike some of today’s “star” pianists, Trifonov really does live up to his reputation. His effortless pianism as well as, even by today’s standards, stratospheric technique are truly astounding. 

By the time Rachmaninov wrote this concerto, he had been living outside of Russia for some time. He had been exposed to musical influences such as Jazz – he especially admired the piano playing of Art Tatum - and film music. This work (and this is by no means a criticism) betrays an eclectic mixture of styles, even though it still retains Rachmaninov’s unique harmonic colours and brooding melancholy. Trifonov navigated the shifting moods of the work very successfully, and infused the concerto with a sense of coherence and organic unity.

I was looking forward to the orchestra’s performance of Richard Strauss’ Also sprach Zarathustra, as it had been a long time since I heard the composer’s youthful tone poem. The famous opening section was well played, and filled with tension, although I did feel that the trumpets could have sounded a bit more “distant” when intoning the famous C-G-C rising motif. Benaroya Hall’s beautiful organ sounded resplendent under the hands of Joseph Adam, particularly with the big C major chord at m. 19. 

The Seattle Symphony strings played the theme at m. 35 (Mässig langsam, mit Andacht) with great warmth and beauty of tone. Concertmaster Noah Geller soared with his violin solos, and the clarinet solo at m. 194 (sehr ausdruckvoll) had a beautiful quality and was very movingly played. The celli and basses achieved a real pianissimo– not only the sound, but also the pianissimoquality - playing the rising motif at m. 201. The strings again shone at m. 230 (allmählich etwas weniger langsam) with the richness and beauty of their tone. The orchestra achieved a lovely shimmering in their playing of the etwas lebhaftersection at m. 252. 

On the whole, I thought that Thomas Dausgaard’s reading of the score was very successful. He infused the music with a tension that I did not find (as much) in his last Strauss outing with Eine Alpensinfonie, well played as it was. Only in the ending of Zarathustradid I feel that there could have been more of a sense of enigma, of mystery.

The Seattle Symphony’s upcoming  season is filled with many ambitious projects, no doubt showcasing the talents of its new music director. I hope that Dausgaard’s tenure in Seattle will be a long and fruitful one. I was certainly happy to have had the opportunity to return to beautiful Benaroya Hall and enjoyed the performance by this wonderful orchestra.

Patrick May

Sir Andras Schiff and the Seattle Symphony

Sir Andras Schiff spent this last week in Seattle, conducting and playing with the Seattle Symphony Orchestra, as well as giving a solo recital. I missed Sir Andras’ solo recital, but I had the pleasure of attending his appearance with the orchestra. 

The concert opened with J. S. Bach’s Keyboard Concerto No. 3 in D major, BWV 1054, a reworking of the composer’s Violin Concerto in E major, BWV 1042. It is apparent in this concerto how much the period instrument practice has seeped into performances with modern instruments. The strings played with minimal vibrato, and there was a lightness in the string playing that kept the musical line taut and buoyant. Schiff’s playing was, not surprising, a marvel to behold. In the faster passages, every note is beautiful and expressive, like a precious pearl within a perfect string of pearl. The lightness of his playing matched that of his colleagues in the orchestra. In the slow movement (Adagio e sempre piano), I was amazed at the beautiful legato and the sound he was able to achieve without any use of pedal (I sat on Row 1). The third movement (Allegro) was filled with a joyful spirit that this music calls for. Throughout the performance (and even in the performance of the Beethoven concerto), Schiff almost subsumed the sound of the piano within the texture of the orchestra, making it almost like a piano obbligato. This, for me, is concerto playing at its finest, a sort of glorified chamber music.

Equally memorable was Schiff and the orchestra’s presentation of Beethoven’s miraculous Piano Concerto No. 4 in G major, Op. 58 – a Dionysian presentation of one of Beethoven’s most Dionysian works. The piano playing was expressive and expansive. It was not a Toscanini-like metronomic Steeplechase, but more of a Bruno Walter, stopping-along-the-way-to-smell-the-flowers approach to this great work. Schiff took time to let the music speak for itself. The opening phrase of the 1^stmovement had a recitative-like, confiding quality to it. Throughout the movement, I was reminded of the beauty of Beethoven’s writing for the winds, especially the bassoon. At six measures after letter H, the piano playing had an extra depth of feeling, almost an ecstatic quality to it. Schiff is a conductor who reminds us that conducting really involves the power of suggestion. He coaxes rather than demands in his approach to directing the orchestra. As in the performance of the Bach, Schiff did not come off as the “famous soloist” playing against the orchestra, but integrated his playing within the orchestral texture. It was only during the cadenza that he rid himself of the orchestral shackles and allowed his considerable virtuosity to shine through.

In the slow movement, Schiff set a tempo a little faster than most performers, with sharper articulation in the strings. This is actually in line with the composer’s Andante con motomarking, con motobeing the operative word here. That said, there was no lacking in tension or tautness in the music; there was, however, very much a sense of forward motion – it was a perfect balance between the horizontal and vertical aspects of this music. I appreciated the space Schiff allowed between each orchestral outburst and the piano entry. The long passage of trill at the end of the movement was filled with urgency and a pleading quality, an appropriate contrast with the silence that followed.

I had always thought that this particular Beethoven concerto could not do without a full-time conductor. Well, Schiff and the orchestra obviously rehearsed this work very well, because the ensemble between pianist and orchestra, as well as all those tricky entrances, was done to perfection. This was especially apparent in the 3^rdmovement. I liked the way Schiff played all the sforzandonotes in the right hand (the passage at Letter A, for instance), giving it a feeling of surprise, but never forced or hammered. 

At the end of the Beethoven, soloist and orchestra received a deservedly rousing ovation from the audience, whereupon he returned with Menuet I and IIas well as the Giguefrom Bach’s Partita No. 1 in B-flat major, BWV 825. Schiff’s brief performance was musical in every note, as light and breathtaking as one could hope for, and he really highlights the quirkiness of Bach’s melodic writing. 

Schiff returned as a full time conductor in the second half, and led the orchestra in a deeply felt reading of Bartok’s Concerto for Orchestra, Sz. 116, BB 123, yet another miraculous masterpiece, this time from the 20^thcentury. It never fails to amaze me that this beautiful, optimistic and life-affirming work should come during such a dark time not just in human history, but in the composer’s life as well.

He beautifully shaped the melodic idea in the celli and basses at the outset of the work, and really allowed the music to build towards the Allegrovivace(rehearsal number 76) main section. I liked how he shaped the angular melody in the violins, really giving it a great deal of character. There was a real sense of grandeur and excitement in the canonic passage for brasses at rehearsal number 313. Throughout this long first movement, there was an organic unity that led to that final F for the entire orchestra.

In the Giuoco delle coppiemovement, Schiff infused the opening music with real humour, and inspired the bassoonists in some inspired playing. There was heroic and very beautiful trumpet playing in the extended passages for the instrument by the Seattle musicians. The conductor painted a real picture of varying shades of grey (certainly more than fifty) in the Elegia movement. The“outburst” by the strings at rehearsal 34 had a desperate quality to it, almost like a cry for help. Leonard Bernstein once said that a lot of Bartok’s melodic writing is related to the unique sounds of the Hungarian language. This passage, and the way the musicians played it, reminded me of Mr. Bernstein’s statement.

Schiff highlighted the almost Mahler-like sense of irony in some of the music in the Intermezzo interrotto movement. The violas played their beautiful theme at rehearsal 43 with great warmth as well as a depth of feeling. Conductor and orchestra pulled out all the stops in the very exciting final movement. The opening horn solo had a real sense of occasion to it, and conveyed the feeling of the beginning of something momentous. The rapid passage by the first and second violins had a real Hungarian, almost gypsy, flavour, to it. Yesterday afternoon, every musician in the orchestra rose to the occasion responded to Bartok’s technical and musical challenges with aplomb and absolute assurance.

From first note to last, yesterday’s performance by Schiff and the Seattle musicians made for a rich and rewarding musical experience. It was a performance of total commitment on the part of the musicians, as well as one where all the elements came together to make for a very memorable afternoon.

Patrick May

A Strauss Feast in Seattle

No one says goodbye quite like Richard Strauss. And not just in obviously elegiac works like the Vier Letzte Lieder or Metamorphosen. Listen to the final moments of Der Rosenkavalier, Capriccio, the death scene in Don Quixote, or the coda of Eine Alpensinfonie, and you would hear these very beautiful and special moments of farewell.

When I saw the programme for the Seattle Symphony’s concert this past weekend, I knew that I would have to make the trip down to the Emerald City. Vier Letzte Lieder in the first half and Eine Alpensinfonie after the interval – life just doesn’t get better than this. And it is always a treat to hear this wonderful orchestra in beautiful Benaroya Hall.

Soprano Gun-Brit Barkmin was the soprano soloist in the Vier Letzte Lieder, with Thomas Dausgaard sensitively weaving the gorgeous orchestral texture Strauss provides. Barkmin has a voice that could easily sail above any orchestra. Look at the operatic roles she tackles – Marie in Wozzeck, Isolde, Sieglinde, Emilia Marty in Věc Makropulos, to name just a few, and you would realize the kind of voice she needs to have. On Saturday, the power of her voice was of course evident, but there was also sensitivity in how she paints the words in music. It was a deeply moving performance, especially in the final two songs, and her singing of the final lines of Im Abendrot, “Wie sind wir wandermüde – ist dies etwa der Tod?” was especially heartfelt and affecting. She obviously meant what she sang. Thomas Dausgaard was most effective and sensitive in bringing out the beauty of Strauss’s orchestral writing. The French horn and violin solos in Beim Schlafengehen were particularly beautifully played.

The tear ducts were barely dry when Barkmin granted us an encore, Morgen, also by Strauss. It was a wonderfully intimate performance of one of Strauss’s most loving and lovely songs, and the wonderful violinist (I wasn’t sure of her name, as the orchestral personnel lists the concertmaster and associate concertmaster positions as currently vacant) who played the solos deserved equal credits for the meltingly beautiful performance.

A substantially enlarged orchestra – everything but the kitchen sink, almost - filled the stage after the interval for the composer’s Eine Alpensinfonie, which conductor André Previn referred to as “giant piece of strudel.” I personally find this to be one of the composer’s most endearing tone poems. Dausgaard, not surprisingly, reveled in the music, and successfully marshaled the huge orchestral forces and inspired them to play their best. I was so taken with how lush sounding the Seattle strings were on Saturday. There was, however, a feeling of riding from climax to climax, rather than presenting the work as an organic whole, with a sense of totality. This is easier said than done with this large work, as the many “tunes” are so very irresistible. The strings and bassoons played the opening descending B-flat minor scale with a palpable sense of mystery, and the four trombones and tuba at rehearsal 1 matched this atmosphere.

The celli and basses played the opening of Der Anstieg with gusto as well as the necessary weight in sound. I thought that the Jaghörner von ferne at five measures after 18 could have been much more boisterous. It was a little too reserved for my taste. The interplay between the woodwinds and strings in Am Wasserfall was most effectively done. In Auf dem Gipfel, Dausgaard deftly paced the strings in leading up to the oboe solo at 77. The oboe solo was extremely well played. What I missed, however, was this sense of breathless wonder, especially in the off-beat 8^th notes at one measure after 77, when the mountain climber beholds the scenery below. However, the slowly emerging theme in the strings (79) unfolded beautifully, as was the brass theme at 80.

In Elegie (100), I thought that the strings could have played with a greater weight of sound. Yes, Strauss did write piano, but he also added espressivo, which I think is more crucial in creating the sadness, the feeling of regret, in the string colours.

The clarinet solo (7 measures after 103) was effectually played, and conjured the sense of impending danger in Stille vor dem Sturm. The orchestra was most impressive with their virtuosic playing in effectively conjuring up the storm. From my seat in row 4, the sound and the force of the orchestra were palpable.  The brass section was most convincing in conveying the feeling of majesty at 128, the few measures leading up to Sonnenuntergang. I was especially looking forward to the organ entry at 134 (Ausklang), since Benaroya Hall is one of the few halls blessed with a beautiful pipe organ. I was not disappointed. I did, however, think that the initial entry was a trifle too loud (Strauss indicated only forte), which took away the feeling of sacredness in the moment. The string playing of the beautiful theme at 138 was most heartfelt. In Nacht, Dausgaard effectively evokes the sense of mystery that was so apparent in the opening.

What a great privilege and pleasure it had been to hear these two great works of Richard Strauss. I am guessing that Eine Alpensinfonie is rarely done not only because of its difficulty, requiring heroic playing from every member of the orchestra, but because of the expense. Dausgaard and each and every one in the Seattle Symphony certainly rose to Strauss’s challenge, and gave all of us an indelible musical experience this past weekend.

Patrick May

Vancouver, Canada