Through These Ears

A Little More About Daniele Gatti

Further to my post below about Gatti's debut concert as Musical Director of the Orchestre national de France:  I just picked up the September issue of Le Monde de la musique.  This is the first time I've seen this magazine.  I'm quite impressed by it so far, and I'm not even half way through.

There's a brief interview with Daniele Gatti, where he talks a bit about how his learning to love music through his parents, and how he chose to become a conductor.  Apparently he likes to build model ships as well.  He's got a five-year deal with the ONF, and has an interesting programming idea.  Gatti would like to do a Beethoven cycle over five concerts, but with a brand new work, commissioned by the orchestra, sandwiched in between two symphonies on each program.  Sounds pretty cool to me, although I'd hate to be the composer surrounded by all that Beethoven.  Gatti also complements his predecessor, Kurt Masur, for helping to restore the orchestra's luster.  Sounds a little like what they said about Masur's contribution in New York.

In any case, he also made an interesting comment about why he sought the new gig. Gatti has been the principal conductor of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra in London since 1996, and has been doing the lion's share of conducting for at least the last six years.  According to the interview, taking the job with the ONF was not a difficult choice:

"After thirteen years in London, I felt the need to work with an orchestra where the musicians aren't constantly changing, to build a season over the long term, to think about thematic programs.  In London, this isn't possible:  one had to sell each program and the competitions with the other groups is tough."

The above is my translation from the original.  In that last line about competition, Gatti says he had to compete with the other "formations", and uses the French word "rude" to describe it.  I chose to translate it here as "tough", but it can also mean "harsh" in this context.  Interesting, indeed.

In an interview in The Guardian a few years ago, Bernard Haitink had this to say about the London scene:

"That's really a difficult situation," he reflects, "because London has a pool of musicians that is unique. Boulez says you can do what you want in London, because for every piece there are always musicians who can play it. The tragedy is the way orchestras have to operate. Concert life just survives by the skin of its teeth. The whole life in London, I don't have to tell you, is so difficult. Nearly inhuman. Not much pay. Terrible pressure. Managers of orchestras need all the time to raise the money and can't concentrate on musical standards. The players are incredible. It's the survival of the fittest.

"It is tragic that London doesn't have a really good hall, and that it doesn't just have two well-established orchestras that don't have to fight for their lives. But I think it will never change, that's the sad thing. The political agenda is not interested. Nevertheless one can do extraordinary things."

That probably sums it up pretty well.  There are five big orchestras in London, and massive amounts of other ensembles.  Many of them share players from a larger pool of freelancers.  Something like 44% of all musicians' union members in the UK work in the London area.  The RPO has fixed membership, on paper anyway.  But there's always change going on under the surface.   And it's not just in London, either:  all of Britain runs that way.  For those not familiar with this kind of scenario, this "About Orchestras" page from the Association of British Orchestras website will be a bit of an eye opener.

Daniele Gatti is probably happy to leave all that.  Best of luck to him at the ONF.

Daniele Gatti, Stravinsky, and Medici.TV

I just saw this terrific video of Daniele Gatti's debut concert as the new Musical Director for the Orchestre National de France on Medic.tv (always linked on the left).  I've mostly enjoyed Gatti's work, and I remember when he was starting to make a name for himself.  He used to be in the conversation whenever major US orchestras were looking for their next MD, but I don't know if that's been the case lately.  Maybe it's because he's in that limbo area between young hotshot and accomplished elder statesman.  I certainly enjoyed the broadcast of his Parsifal at Bayreuth this summer, even if the brass and a few audience members didn't.  In any case, he was in fine form here, as was the orchestra.

The program was mostly French, and I think all Paris premiers:  Debussy, more Debussy, Messiaen, and, probably the most famous premier of them all, Le Sacre du Printemps.  The full program is available through the menu here. Everything was quite good.  Personally, I would skip the Messiaen because the flute seemed to be too loud against the strings, and was ahead in too many changes. In fact, I'm really interested only in talking about the Stravinksy.

This is one of the best-directed concert videos I think I've ever seen.  Obviously this particular piece has a visual element - all that rhythmic scrubbing and thrashing - that most other works just don't have, so it's going to be more exciting to watch no matter what.  I've been in and seen a number of performances of this work, and there's always plenty of action no matter who's involved, but it's the video direction that makes this work.

There are, of course, the usual stationary shots, and we get a handful of the same angles over and over again.  For practical reason, that's how these things go, and handled well it's not a drawback.  Here, the choice of shots and edits were simply brilliant.  Judiciously timed, with an eye for that extra detail which really emphasizes the sound being made, the direction really made this performance memorable.

In addition to the usual section shots and soloist close-ups, we got to see some extra expressions and movements that I don't think the audience normally gets to see.  Now, the Stravinsky is one of those pieces that looks rough on paper the first time, but is really quite doable, especially with modern players who grew up with it.  Even with the tricky rhythms, many conductors will say that anyone can do this so long as they can keep a beat.  As for players, it gets to the point where there's really no need to constantly count - it's a groove.  And I must say, it was quite refreshing to see some good, honest grooving from a professional orchestra.

There are flashes of captivating personal moments, and sometimes the best moments are when the musicians aren't playing.  After playing his riff, we see a trumpet player still wagging his head, mouth half open, totally focused yet still free.  There's also the moment where the shot switches to the classic "behind the timpani" angle.  The timpanist isn't playing just that second:  he's dancing on his stool.

I found the whole thing exhilirating and fun.  Good playing everywhere, Gatti in complete control, also enjoying himself (which helps).   He also knew when to luxuriate in the orchestral colors when the time was right.  I know those spots are usually obvious to everyone - any time it gets slow, really.  But too many conductors make things sound too much the same as the rest of it, only slower.  In my mind, that misses the point of those sections.

There's also an interview with Gatti, and lots of other stuff on Medici.tv.  The video starts as soon as you click through to the site.

What To Do About Music Directors?

I recently had a post about this fascinating interview with Anthony Woodcock, in which he discusses - among many other things - the relationship between an orchestra an its music director.  That only touched the surface of the topic, and this article in the Washington Post has made me think further along those lines.  I'm probably also thinking about these things since so many groups and companies are starting their new seasons around now, some with new music directors, and some without.

The article talks about some of the things a music director does, including programming and hiring.  This does remind me of a few things we all tend to forget since the music director discussion so often tends to focus on big names and money.  For example, the National Symphony Orchestra isn't going to fill their eight vacancies for possibly another two years, until they hire a new music director.  This isn't really a big deal, as it's not like the seats are empty for concerts.  But it does hinder the orchestra's stability, and may hamper growth somewhat.

Many orchestras have artistic directors who do the bulk of the programming, but that's not the same influence a music director/conductor has.  The artistic director behind the scenes will mostly make the decisions about which soloists to bring in, negotiate repertoire with guest conductors, come up with theme concerts, things like that.  The music director as chief conductor generally has influence over the programs they themselves lead in performance.  Although I'm oversimplifying things a bit, there is something more personal when it comes to the music director's own concerts.

But there's so much more to it than just programming.  In the US, music directors are often expected to make fundraising appearances and press the flesh.  In some places that can almost become a job unto itself.  Often, he or she will be, for better or worse, the "face" of the orchestra.  That comes with the territory, especially if they're expected to stay around for a while.  Opera companies put their star singers on the posters instead, although in many places the core audience will have just as strong feelings about their music directors as do their concert orchestra counterparts.

One major effect a music director can have on the orchestra is in the performance standard.  There are plenty of examples of new chief conductors coming in and instilling much-needed discipline (Kurt Masur and New York come to mind), or strenghtening an orchestra and taking it to that next level (like Esa-Pekka Salonen in LA, or Michael Tilson-Thomas in San Francisco).  Conversely, standards may slip when the big boss isn't around enough, or turns out to be really irritating or negative in rehearsal.  There are just as many stories of music directors destroying morale and failing to keep the orchestra in top form.  Rehearsal is a big part of that.  Poor preparation - a killer - and bad manners will eventually defeat talent and star power, no matter how big the name is.  That's something the public generally doesn't get to hear about very often, if ever.  All they may know is that the group seems uninspired lately.  And the tendency is usually to take it out on the musicians.  Often, the audience tends to blame rough spots on the players only, when sometimes it's a bad or missed cue, or sloppiness from the podium.  Music critics often aren't much better at that.  Maybe if some of them went to more rehearsals they'd occasionaly find a new perspective on a given performance.

If the players feel like they're not getting the opportunity to do their best, it's all over.  Even if they're pros who bring it every night, some things just don't happen without the right attitude on the podium.  Not every orchestra can do an LSO and basically tell the conductor, "Okay, we'll start the piece when you do, but that's the last time we're going to pay attention, and it's up to you if you want to stop waving your arms about when we're finished."  Although, some orchestras do that anyway even when they shouldn't....

Aside from having high performance standards and a good working environment, there are other benefits for everyone when the relationship works well.  For instance, I just noticed this post by Kenneth Woods about a bit of programming he's doing for his upcoming season with the Surrey Mozart Players.  He's programming a much neglected piece he has always wanted to hear live, and is well aware of the pitfalls of trying to do such a thing.  This kind of enthusiasm and dedication to the art is great for the orchestra and the audience, as well as being a personal moment of musical satisfaction for the music director.  That kind of thing won't happen very often in other business arrangements.  James Levine gets to do lots of his beloved Elliott Carter and other contemporary music because it's his show.  Similarly, Salonen can keep doing works by his old schoolmate Magnus Lindberg with LA.  The same goes for Leon Botstein and the American Symphony Orchestra, or, as the above article metions, the NSO can now add more contemporary works from other countries after Leonard Slatkin's departure. 

In some cases, the job is done by the players themselves.  The Orpheus Chamber Orchestra has never had a conductor/music director, and the Britten Sinfonia seems to be doing just fine that way as well.  Different situations call for different measures, and I don't think this arrangement would work for some of the big boys, just because of the way the whole organization is structured.  But that's another argument altogether.

There's just so much more to the music director/chief conductor deal than what we see on posters and in concert programs.  Sometimes I'm amazed that anybody gets anything done well.

Stupidity In Cleveland - Music Critic Reassigned For Being Critical

Via Sounds & Fury, I just learned that the Cleveland Plain Dealer has reassigned Don Rosenberg, the music critic who has covered the Cleveland Orchestra for about thirty years.  It seems that he was too critical, too often, of music director Franz Welser-Mõst, and some people from the orchestra board complained enough that the paper is taking him off the beat.

How completely stupid.  I'll let others do the bit about how it's a critic's job to be critical, and instead say that this is just another sign of the problems going on with the orchestra.  I suppose this is related to the fact that in June, the orchestra extended Welser-Mõst's contract until 2018(!), while they have been having fundraising difficulties almost since he got there.  Rosenberg has been critical of his leadership, although always seemed to give praise when due.

They're having the same troubles other organizations are having holding onto donors, and it seems questionable that in the middle of this situation they would grant such an extension to the music director's contract.  There have been other difficulties at the orchestra in the last year as well, including personnel issues such as the resignation of the associate concert master due to a questionable restructuring of the section.  Things like that don't come from the board, so the true problem may be deeper.

Daniel Lews has been one of the biggest financial supporters of the orchestra.  He has also been involved in some behind-the-scenes machinations.  I don't know if he's involved in this move to protect Welser-Mõst, but it may not be a mere coincidence that he donated $10 million the year they hired their young European rising star (which is what they wanted).  Not only have they extended his contract to an absurd length, but recently eliminated the position of music director of the local Blossom Festival and gave it to the Music Director Nearly For Life.  Curious.  They apparently treat him very well in the office.

Rosenberg is not alone in his lack of total love for Welser-Mõst, or as he is known in some quarters as "Worse Than Most".  But the Vienna Staatsopera has him slated to take over from Ozawa in a couple of years, so he clearly does have quality support.  Of course, his repertoire there will be a little more limited than it is in Cleveland, and one of the main criticisms is that he just doesn't bring it in some works.

The Cleveland Orchestra has a rich history, always in the conversation about top orchestras in the US.  They're still an excellent group, but maybe not as inspired all the time as they might be.  I've certainly never been a big fan of Welser-Mõst, and from what I've read, Rosenberg seems to have his number.  Naturally, the people on the board who just signed him on for what seems like an eternity in music director years will want to hear as little criticism as possible.  This is far from the first time an orchestra has raised a fuss with a local paper about coverage, but in this day and age it's pretty ridiculous for a paper to cave in like this.

Unfortunately, this is exactly the kind of thing that can alienate an orchestra from its community.  It's one thing for a music critic to get downsized, as people will begrudgingly accept that newspapers everywhere are struggling and doing this kind of thing.  It's quite another matter when the writer is merely taken off the beat because the orchestra doesn't like him.  It's important to remember that even if this is the result of noise from just a single faction of the board, it reflects back on the entire orchestra.  This must look awfully petty to orchestra supporters.

Not only that, but this amounts to the Cleveland Plain Dealer turning its back on readers.  In effect, this personnel decision is a statement that readers will no longer get a reliable report about an important cultural institution.

Stupid.

UPDATE:  Sam Bergman, violist and blogger for the Minnesota Orchestra, has made a comment below which (in his signature) links his post about this issue on his and Sarah Hicks's "Inside the Classics" blog, which has a little more information about how this may have happened.  Read his comment, and then go here to see what he's talking about.  A VP of the board is still a "faction", albeit a small one, and this was still handled in a very stupid fashion.  At least we agree that this reflects badly on the orchestra, which is the most important consideration.  I mean, regardless of the political machinations of the board and the paper, this affects the relationship between the community and the musicians as well.

Admittedly, I haven't spent much time thinking about how else this could have been handled.  If Rosenberg is just biased and couldn't be stopped after five or six years, why is he still writing for the paper?  If he was so clearly out of line, would his colleagues have elected him president of the Music Critics' Association of America?  Okay, maybe, but I kind of doubt it.  If the critic is acting unprofessionally, is reassigning him going to cure that?  Was this simply a case of a unique personal prejudice, which would never happen in another situation?  Maybe, but the problem is that Rosenberg is not exactly a lone voice in being underwhelmed by this conductor.  Since this is not the first time the paper heard these complaints, how has this been handled behind the scenes until now?  I guess we'll never know.

My thanks to Sam Bergman for the comment and the update.  I should have done this a while back, but the Inside the Classics blog has now been added to the Orchestra Blogs list on the left.

UPDATE:  Yes, I can spell Welser-Möst's name.  A typo is one thing, but there's no excuse for copying and pasting it to avoid having to do the alt-code for the "ö", and never noticing what I'd done.  My bad, fixed now.

Valery Gergiev at the Klara Festival: Ustvolskaya, Tchaikovsky, and Silvestrov

(Following from this post)

This concert both met and exceeded my expectations.  It was great to hear two interesting works which were new to me, and to hear Gergiev in music far outside the Standard Rep.

The program:

Ustvolskaya:  Symphony No. 3
Tchaikovsky:  Violin Concerto*
Silvestrov:  Symphony No. 6

Sergei Krilov, violin*
Maryinsky Orchestra
Valery Gergiev, cond.

I had the broadcast start time as an hour before the concert itself actually began.  It turns out this is because Klara had an hour of preliminary stuff as part of the official broadcast, just to set up the mood for the actual concert program.  There was some discussion of Ustvolskaya and Silvestrov, as well as a nice interview - in English, with quick translations by the host - with Krilov (he likes new music and has new works written for him - I like him already).  He spoke about working with Gergiev,

Interspersed amongst the dialogue were recordings of various violin works, including performances by Salvatore Accardo and .  I don't know how I would feel if I was a journeyman violinist coming in to do one of the biggest warhorses of them all, and the radio station was playing other famous works performed by bigger names for the hour before I went on.  Krilov probably had no idea, of course.  The interviewer asked him if he liked to listen to the rest of the concert when he was performing, or if he just focused on his own concerto and nothing else.  I found that a bit odd.  I understand being curious if the soloist stayed around for the rest of the program after he was done, but before?

The only other oddity was the fact that sometimes they cut off the end of whatever recording they were playing to go back to the live signal.  They even did this in between pieces.  I know they had a lot of air time to fill, but maybe they were trying to avoid becoming the talk-fest that some German and French concerts broadcasts can become. 

Now on to the music.

Much like the couple of chamber works I've heard by Galina Ustvolskaya, her Symphony No. 3 was stark and on the dark side.  It's all sparse textures, often unisons, or tone clusters in the winds.  As seems to be her style, she is very economical with her ideas and figures.  The work is built around a seven-note motif, and a limited set of intervals.  Deliberate pacing, almost laser-like direct musical lines are enhanced by the sharp, pointed winds and percussion which make up the bulk of the instrumentation.  The piece isn't long, only about sixteen minutes or so.

The spoken text (there was no listing for the male voice doing the reading) is from a collection of medieval religious and literary works of a leading medieval scholar and chronicler, Herman of Reichenau, aka Hermanus Contractus ("Herman the Cripple").  All of Ustvolskaya's symphonies feature liturgical texts of some kind, and all appear to come from this source.  The composer herself has stated that she does not practice any religion, but rather considers herself to be "spiritual", and composes her music with that kind of outlook.  So, as there doesn't seem to be any personal connection to the religious text itself, I wonder if the semi-reclusive and physically self-conscious Ustvolskaya feels some sort of kindred spirit in Herman the Cripple?

Ustvolskaya apparently notates her music without barlines, but the deliberateness of the lines and figures probably helps keep things together.  The same note values recur along with that seven-not figure, which seems to a slight reworking of her famous teacher's "DSCH" signature, with one added note and repetition of another.  The figure nearly always ends with the same note repeated three times, which creates a sense of forward motion.  A plaintive, semi-dramatic reading of the "Jesus Messiah, Save Me" text fits right in with the uncomfortable, almost suffering instrumental music.

Apart from the occasional rough wind entrance (like the opening chord), Gergiev had things well under control.  However, I did not get the sense of much inner detail outside of highlighting the seven-note riff and maintaining the same deliberate (there's that modifier again), pointed attack on each note from the both the percussion and winds.  It wasn't like he just glossed over all the details, but more as if he saw the obvious basics in the music, and that was it, let's play.  The composer's economy of means probably makes her scores pretty readable, bar lines or no.  But it sounded to me like there was some deeper context that was left out.

In the end, I think this is a case of Gergiev getting a pretty clean, straightforward performance, certainly bringing out the main points of the piece, but lacking in depth.

An interesting overview of Ustvolskaya and her work can be found in the following link.  As always with composers who lived in or through the Soviet-ear, it's best to take the political stuff with a grain of salt.

The Lady with the Hammer

As for the Tchaikovsky, Krilov was fairly solid at first, if a bit too slow at the opening.  I don't think that was Gergiev.  He's got a nice sound, if not as bold as some, and he and the conductor used quite a bit of rubato, but with excellent taste, never breaking the line or making the larger picture sound disjointed (Kennedy's Elgar could learn from this).  Once things got going though, the runs got rougher and rougher, and Krilov kept falling behind the beat.  He was really not on top of the technical challenges, and strained to hit the top notes of runs, had some out of tune passagework, and didn't really shine at all.  Musicality was a distant second at that point, and Krilov's overly-mannered cadenza didn't really do much to allay that feeling.  In fact it seemed to highlight the technical flaws more than make things like a certain questionable appoggiatura sound spontaneous. Fine playing in the orchestra, for the most part.

The wind writing in the second movement is the best part of this whole thing for me, and that was nice right up until the badly out tune horn stepped all over the otherwise sweet violin entrance.  Ouch.  Both Krilov and Gergiev had just the write colors going (except the horn on its next entrance).  I could have used a more open top end from the violin here.  There wasn't a wide enough range of shading as we keep coming around to the melody.  There's a point where the light needs to shine through at the top of the phrase, and it didn't work.  Good things happening in the winds and lower strings made the difference.

The last movement went the same way as the first movement.  Simple as that.  Apply what I said about that questionable appoggiatura back then to the open pizzicato chords of the last, and then add the bit about not enough openness on top from the second, and nothing else needs to be said.  Also repeat the bit about good things from the winds.  It's nice to hear really good woodwind sounds from a Russian orchestra again.

Ukrainian composer Valentin Silvestrov's 6th Symphony was a treat to listen to, just for the instrumental sounds.  The almost mechanical shifting of the bright colors and sharp angles in strings and winds to darker hues (brass, winds, percussion, piano) made me think of so many pieces from the '50s and '60s where it's just one solid splash of stacked instruments after another.  In this case there was a slight feeling of rotating around a rising scale.

Even though the pacing was just as deliberate as the Ustvolskaya, there was more energy.  Gergiev had the pulsing chords breathing, and the line was maintained much more in this work.  I don't think it was because the note values in the Silvestrov were longer.  This piece could very easily have become a plodding, sloppy mess with all those staggered entrances and hazy chords and rumbling pedal points.  There were quite a few moments of Ligeti-esque textures.  Structurally, the Silvestrov piece seems similar to Ustvolskaya's Symphony.  Both works share a focus on refrains and repeated patterns which both develop and then come back in their original shape.  Silvestrov included a full string section in his score, as well as more winds, and he indulges in a much thicker soundworld.  I think Gergiev heard a little Scriabin here, especially the gauzy strings and harp section, which almost entered some kind of movie dreamworld and played it that way.

The dream state ends, and for some reason the previously hazy clouds of color come together as a slightly fractured Adagietto from Mahler's Fifth Symphony, done at Leonard Bernstein's pace.  The sharp angles from the opening poke through the Mahler clouds, but don't break it up all together.  What happens is that the elements have become fragmented and fractured enough that they are no more than the little bits of glass in a kaleidoscope, constantly shifting around, but at well-timed intervals.  That's really the overall impression I get of this piece.

I have to admit Gergiev really brought out the details this time.  This is the kind of work that has so many seemingly static, episodic moments which can quickly turn into a disjointed mush.  Instead, I got a sense of clear forms and a focused direction.  He gets some really solid playing from everyone here, especially the brass, and I would imagine that as much as the various chords get transformed over and over, this must be really difficult to play in tune. It's also goes on for a long time (a real critic would say too long, in fact:  just over 55 minutes with no pause).  But to me Silvestrov lets that occasional breath of fresh air come back in just in time to set off the next wave of gauze, so I don't mind.  Gergiev was certainly in no hurry to get through it either.  Some may look down on the heavy reliance on such a famous melody, but in the end I think it ends up being so fractalized that one hardly notices that it's the anchor keeping the rest of the music from floating away and dissipating.

My confidence in Valery Gergiev has been restored somewhat, although not entirely.  I'm also going to find a recording of the Silvestrov, possibly here.

Brahms, Liszt, Scriabin, Andsnes, Muti: Reliving Some Beautiful Music

This was supposed to be the second part of my first attempt to give "before and after" posts about a particular broadcast, as I discussed here.  It didn't work out exactly as planned, but there are still some worthwhile things to be said about the music.

First of all, I have to admit to messing up my "Scheduled Post".  It was meant to go up a day earlier, obviously, and didn't actually appear until something like halfway through the first broadcast I listed.  I'll make sure to post any repeat broadcast of this concert.  The post was up in plenty of time to catch the second one (today's Valery Gergiev concert), and my review of that will be up tomorrow.

In any case, the only truly memorable part was the Liszt, although Leif Ove Andsnes was excellent in the Brahms.  Since there isn't much point in going over a performance nobody heard, I'll just leave it at that and recommend this instead.  Is it possible that Andsnes hasn't recorded the Second Concerto?  I like the first one better anyway.  I'm going to keep my eye out for him doing more chamber music this year.  On the Philharmonic website, they have some very good podcasts and video of an interview with Leif Ove Andsnes about the Brahms and working with conductors (this was apparently his first time working with Muti).  Charles Zachary Bornstein, the Leonard Bernstein Scholar-in-Residence at the New York Philharmonic, talks about the Scriabin (which to my ears only really got going about half way in).  They completely ignore the Liszt work, so I'll talk about that by itself.

It turns out that I misremembered the opening of Liszt's symphonic poem, "From the Cradle to the Grave".  It's actually his Faust Symphony which opens up with that tone row.  Incidentally that piece also bears the stamp of the Princess Caroline, as it was she who recommended (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) to Liszt that he add that final choral movement, with the tenor solo and Goethe verse.  Of course, Liszt was extremely fond of choral music, and wrote a fair bit of it himself, so he was most likely easily persuaded.  To me, that bit sounded out of place, even before I knew it was only tacked on much later.

"From the Cradle to the Grave", however, was even more beautiful than I remembered, and it's something that I think more people need to hear.  Regardless of whether or not one is a fan of his music (I'm not really a fan of his orchestral music outside of Faust and this), this is a special little piece.  Naturally, it begins with a gentle lullaby.  Liszt is already hinting at darker things to come, nudging just the right note up or down in the middle of a phrase.  At times the opening section hovers between Bruckner's best quiet melodies and a major/minor shifting that is more typical of Fauré.  I must say that Muti has the New York Phil. sounding very French towards the end of this section, and those players really are something when all the planets align.

An uplifting, Italian tune comes into view, quickly becoming more and more energetic, interrupted by a dotted figure in the brass.  This dotted figure becomes an undercurrent, then takes over the entire orchestra.  Eventually the more flamboyant, bombastic Liszt we know from Les Preludes and the like comes through, but the triumph doesn't last long.  That Italian tune points downwards now, slow and somber in the low strings and bassoon and bass clarinet.  The atmosphere is very moody now, with angular, almost menacing intervals that wouldn't be out of place in The Sorcerer's Apprentice, which wouldn't be written for another twenty five years.  Muti has the mix of the full string chords and winds sounding almost Wagnerian here; it's quite appropriate, and without overdoing it at all.

The violins turn the melody back around to a reprise of the lullaby, still with a hint of the central melody.  Liszt plays it just as autumnal as Strauss in his famous twilight piece, with some more chords straight out of Fauré.  Since this is a Liszt form, the ominous dotted figure returns, as does everything else, but all is now muted, resigned.  Ever the spiritual one, he looks heavenward as the music slowly winds to a close, almost as if the life of the music itself has gone out.

This was a terrific performance, but this wonderful, different music can be found here (the Naxos version is too fast in the second and third parts).  I'm told torrents of the performance can also be found.

Classical Music Radio Broadcasts This Week - Attempting Something Different

(UPDATE:  Apparently today's (Monday) Gergiev concert on Klara doesn't start until 2pm EDT.  My apologies.)

I wrote something a while back about trying to find new and different ways to do music criticism and concert reviews.  With a bit of inspiration from Norman Lebrecht's take on more involved coverage of concerts and festivals, I'm going to try something a little different.

Rather than just a dry listing of a handful of interesting progams - which anyone can find through sites like this one - I'm going to list a couple of concert broadcasts and briefly discuss why I want to hear them, and what I might be listening for.   Afterwards I'll post a review, not only to give my view on the concert, but to follow up on my preliminary comments.  This should be a fun experiment, and we'll see how this kind of music commentary looks at the end of the week.

First, though, a bit of cheating.

I actually heard this concert months ago, but NRK is rebroadcasting it, and it's well worth hearing again, for a couple of reasons.  The program is:

Sept. 7 from 11:00am to 1:00pm EDT, broadcast on NRK Altid Klassik

Johannes Brahms: Piano Concerto No. 2 in B, op. 83
Franz Liszt: From the Cradle to the Grave (Symphonic Poem)
Alexander Skriabin: Le Poème de l'Extase

Leif Ove Andsnes, piano
New York Philharmonic
Riccardo Muti, cond.

Other than one brief moment of chamber music, it's been a while since I've heard Leif Ove Andsnes play.  I'm not the biggest fan of the Brahms 2nd Concerto, but I'm always happy to hear Andsnes, as well as that famous cello solo in the second movement.  The main reason I want to hear this concert again, though, is for the Liszt.

From the Cradle to the Grave is the last of his symphonic poems, a form which he invented.  Written from 1881-82, the original title was From the Cradle to the Coffin, but Liszt's long-time lover/companion/editor/advisor/troublemaker advised him to soften the title (a little bit more about the Princess Carolyn can be found here).  I prefer the original title.  It's an odd piece right from the start.  Liszt had already been experimenting with the outer edges of tonality and form, and had even gone so far as to compose a Bagatelle sans tonalité, and had begun to think about breaking free of tonality entirely.  This symphonic poem opens with a haunting line, which is in fact a full-on twelve-tone row.  The piece itself is not atonal, of course, and well within the Late Romantic harmony of his other works of his last years.  But it is, I think, more personal and moody than any of his other orchestral works.  That's no surprise since he wrote it near the end of his life, with declining health.  Forget about the Faust Symphony or Les Préludes. I think I find more interesting things in this piece than in any of his other symphonic poems.  I don't know why Ricardo Muti decided to resurrect this piece, but it's almost a "must hear", I think.

(Anyone interested in seriously learning about his absolutely amazing, heroice life should check out the incredible three-volume biography by Alan Walker.  Even if one doesn't care much for his music, Liszt was superhuman and led an amazing life.)

Scriabin's Poème de l'Extase is a good compliment to the Liszt work, and is one which Muti knows really well and has been championing for a long time.  Combine all that with the excellent sound of the of the NY Phil., and this is a good evening of music.  Yes, I've heard it already, but the Liszt especially deserves attention.

(UPDATE:  Review - sort of - is here.)

Sept. 8 from 1:00pm - 4:00pm EDT, broadcast on Klara

Galina Ustvolskaya: Symphony No. 3 "Jesus Messiah, save us"
Peter Tchaikovsky:  Violin Concerto in D, Opus 365
Valentin Silvestrov: Symphony No. 6 "Pathètique"

Sergei Krilov, violin
Maryinsky Theater Orchestra
Valery Gergiev, cond.

This is from the end of the Klara Festival (Flemish radio).  Gergiev, as usual, has been all over the place this summer, with varying results.  Even though he's doing music by composers from his homeland, there's no guarantee he'll know the scores very well.  The Tchaikovsky, of course, he'll know cold.  I've never heard Sergei Krilov before, so it'll be good to be exposed to a new artist.  As for the other two works, they're both fairly recent (written within the last 25 years or so), and I'm always keen to hear works I don't know by interesting composers.

Galina Ustvolskaya is a rather unusual composer.  She's sometimes described as the heir to Shostakovich, but I think that's more because of the personal connections (teacher/student, alleged lovers) than because of her music.  I don't know too much of her stuff, but from what I have heard (only chamber music, now that I think about it) her music can be both energetic and dark, with rough textures and moods.  The same could be said about Shostakovich, I suppose, but the personalities are quite different.  In any event, I haven't heard any of her music in quite some time, and have no idea how her Third Symphony, from 1983, will sound.

I've only heard a couple of orchestral works by Valentin Silvestrov, and it seemed like he was all over the place.  HIs musical language is wide-ranging, and can be appealing, from what I remember.  Perhaps doing film scores led him to be more cosmopolitan?

In any case, I'm always on the lookout for new and interesting music, as well as new artists, and this concert looks like a good fit.  Will Gergiev be able to fly in from wherever he is now on his insanely hectic schedule and make all this music work?  Does he know the Ustvolskaya and Silvestrov works well enough to get this orchestra through them with his usual cavalier approach to rehearsal?  Who knows.  I hope so.  His conducting technique is beyond reproach, but I sometimes worry about his focus and ability to bring out the details in difficult works.

Sept. 10 from 1:30pm - 4:50pm EDT - BBC Proms #73, broadcast on BBC Radio 3

Ralph Vaughan-Williams:  Sinfonia Antarctica
Iannis Xenakis:  Plëiades
Gustav Holst:  The Planets

Elizabeth Watts soprano
4-Mality
O Duo
Holst Singers (women's voices)
BBC Symphony Orchestra
Martyn Brabbins conductor

There's obviously an otherworldly theme going on here.  The Vaughan-Williams piece has not worn well with me as I get older, but if Brabbins gets a little excitement out of his players and doesn't fall into that lugubrious, ham-fisted film music style that too many people use for this, I might like it again.  I kind of doubt it, but I'll still give it a shot, just because I like Brabbins.

On the other hand, I can't wait to hear the Xennakis.  It took me a very long time to be able to hear all the things he tries to do in his works, and I'm sure I'll discover new things about this one as well.  He wrote several works contemplating space and other worlds.  Plëiades is for massed percussion (to borrow from Percy Grainger) and can be both maddening and enlightening.  The percussion quartet 4-Mality (get it?) and the O Duo lads will take center stage for this big work.  I don't know if they'll be joined by any percussionists from the BBC Symphony Orchestra.

I have to say that I'm not the world's biggest fan of music strictly for percussion ensemble.  I find that too many composers rely on bursts of sound and dense layers, and assume that it's enough to just move these gestures around the different instruments without worrying about real complimentary colors or exploring the varieties of combinations available.  The results are often too episodic, less than deeply thought out, and lacking in direction for my taste, but that's certainly never the case with Xennakis.  This should be fun.

There's not much that needs to be said about The Planets, other than what I already mentioned about the Sinfonia Antarctica.  There's some good music here, which I like a lot better than Vaughan-Williams.  They had different approaches to sound and color, though, and Brabbins will know that and direct his musicians accordingly.

So that's three interesting concerts for the week, and some things to look forward to while listening to them.  I'll post separate reviews for each one, and we'll see how this approach to concert reviews develops.  Any reactions are welcome.

Listening to Alan Gilbert and the NDR Sinfonieorchester, plus René Pape

I remember when both Alan Gilbert and René Pape were up-and-comers in their respective fields.  Pape was obviously a rising opera star to be watched.  Even after hearing his earliest efforts on disc, it was clear that this was a solid musician with a very rich instrument, one which would develop into something pretty outstanding.

Gilbert, on the other hand, was hardly on my radar at all.  I've heard him a few times over the years with various orchestras, at least twice on the radio with the band he led for the last eight years, the Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra.  They were so happy with him that they just made him their conductor laureate, apparently only the third one ever named by that group.  Based on what I've heard, I'd considered him to be quite competent and very musical, with the ability to shape phrases clearly and get his ideas across.  But I could always think of a handful of conductors of a similar age and point in their career trajectory whom I would much rather hear.

When I finally saw him live with the New York Philharmonic earlier this year, they were doing Ein Heldenleben.  This was just after the official announcement of his appointment to take over as Music Director from Lorin Maazel next year, and it seemed like they were eager to please.  Of course, this is the kind of music the NY Phil loves to do, and I could tell why they like Gilbert (family issues aside):  he let's them flex their muscles, and to play loud and fast.  Some music commentators have described the orchestra as a well-tooled fancy sports car, meaning that this is a high-quality, luxurious, highly efficient machine.  But there's always a subtext hinting that maybe that sleek exterior masks a less than profound inner core.  I've had similar feelings sometimes, and that was why I knew they would pick Maazel when they did.  They just didn't realize what it would be like to have such a fussy, relentless driver for a full season or three.  We know how that ended up.

So now they have Gilbert.  The orchestra was pretty much allowed to play all-out as much as they wanted, but the overall interpretation was definitely his.  I could tell when there were clearly rehearsed phrases and gear changes which seemed ever so slightly at odds with the rest of the big-boned blasting (although that's kind of in the music already).  But there was something a bit strange about his technique which caught my eye.

Much of the time his elbows stick out at the sides, sometimes almost parallel to the floor.  With his broad shoulders and (kind of) stocky frame, he resembled at times a blocker for a New York football team.  That's just a superficial observation, of course, and none of that should affect his ability to conduct the orchestra.  However, I'm starting to feel that it just might do.

I happened to be sitting very close to the front, and way off to the right side.  This is very much the same vantage point I'm used to from playing in orchestras, so I spent much of the time watching Gilbert and trying to see just how well I could follow him as a player (part of the fun for me).  His elbows were not really so distracting, but the combination of those with his too-often clenched fists did make it difficult to read some cues.  I put this down to something that I would get used to soon enough if I played under him regularly.  After all, most (if not all) conductors have their little idiosyncrasies which players have to adjust to.  There are as many anecdotes about this for the biggest names around as there are for anyone.  Sometimes it's something as major as, "Where the hell is his beat?", but it's usually more in the details where one has to figure out if the beat is on the rebound, or "was that supposed to be my cue", or whether the conductor is showing the pick-up beat or not.  This is where Gilbert lost me a few times, and twice he lost the entire viola section as well.  Unfortunately, the second time was a the return of the same section solo that got screwed up earlier.  He also got lost and missed a big trumpet cue.  He knew it was coming and prepped it with an upturned finger, but when the time came he had his head in the score and the trumpets played without him.  He realized he still had his finger up and quickly retracted it with such a big shake of his head that the front desks of the strings (including his mother) burst out in big, big smiles.  I think Glenn Dicterow (the concertmaster) was giggling for another minute and a half.

In any case, it was a very strange, jerky cue from Gilbert which lost both me and the entire viola section.  I'm not exaggerating when, after the first time it happened, I actually sat on the edge of my seat waiting to see if maybe he'd be more clear, or maybe the violas had figured it out next time.  Oops.  He just shook his fists even more, and it was worse than before.  I don't think this is something I could ever just "get used to".  The violas had been working with him enough by that point - and they all know the piece cold anyway - that this shouldn't have been such a death spot.  Clear gestures are key, even when one is working with the same orchestra for a long period of time.  I got the sense that I was hearing more odd things from his technique than from any lack of good musical sense.  That's one main reason I was eager to hear this concert:  to see how the NDR - who play under all kinds of different conductors rather often - would deal with it in works which require quite a bit of give and take, especially the Mahler.

The program:  René Pape singt Wagner, Alan Gilbert dirigiert Mahlers 5. Sinfonie

The Meistersinger prelude was a pretty straightforward reading, as was the 'Was duftet doch der Flieder' monologue from its second act (except for a balance problem at the start).  I must admit I don't find a whole lot of substance in this music, but Gilbert and Pape made the most of the more interesting moments. Maybe Gilbert's elbows caused those rough edges at the end, when the music fizzled out rather than ending coherently.

The famous Prelude to Act 3 of Die Walküre went well enough.  This orchestra has a good sound for this kind of music. Although, there was an annoyingly heavy "gallop" feel most of the time.  That ubiquitous dotted figure was thumped too hard, and it added too much weight to any sense of upward motion.  The hooves of the Valkyries horses should not be clomping so hard when they're supposed to be riding through the air.  Are those elbows showing more than he intends them to?

Immediately, though the stark change in mood between between the previous big gestures and the melancholia of Wotan's Abschied was enough to cleanse the palate.  Gilbert got just the right sound and balance out of the orchestra.  René Pape caught just the right mood as well, demonstrating his fine sense of phrasing and steadiness. Gilbert proved to be a very sensitive accompanist here, although Pape has no trouble staying above just about any orchestra.  Nothing had to be forced, and there were some very lovely, perfectly timed moments where the tension and volume momentarily rises only to be held back by Wotan's reluctance to express his own emotions.  All natural, all coming directly, honestly, from the music.  Once again, I like Gilbert's ideas about phrasing and shapes.  Pape's sound was clear and warm and full, the way polished oak would sound if it could sing.  Of course, I didn't get quite the sense of humanity and pathos I want out of this bit, but it's hard for a singer to get deeply into character for these 'concert' performances of opera scenes.  I can, however, imagine just how great he might be when he's sunk deeply into this role for a real Ring Cycle.

It's only been about two years since Pape announced that he was going to add Wotan to his repertoire, with the goal of a first attempt in 2010.  Definitely something to watch out for.

Now to Mahler 5.

After a smooth opening section, maybe just a hair slower than I wanted it, but somber and lilting in all the right places, there is a sudden gear shift.  The first violins play this vigorous, angsty line, and Mahler writes instructions for them to play as violently as possible.  The seconds answer with an ascending figure of triplet sixteenth notes.  This was a very ragged entrance, and I was reminded of that problematic viola section moment from the Strauss.  But I can momentarily put that down to just a passing rough moment, which can happen even at the best of times.  Both violin sections do this a couple bars later, and it was just as ragged in both.  Seeing as how this is a similar figure to that Heldenleben spot, I wonder if it's just the way Gilbert is showing it?  When other sections take up that "after-the-beat" triplet figure a few moments later, it's not any better.  Late, even. But the main triplet figure which starts the whole thing off and is a recurring gesture here always seems to be very clear and consistent.  Hmm.

Hey, what's that?  Timid applause after the first movement?  From the smart, suave, culturally educated audience of the Schleswig-Holstein Festival?

Everything proceeds just right in the next movement.  No glossing over details here.  There's plenty of musical intelligence on offer, along with some fine playing from the NDR members.  I've been aware of just how good this orchestra really is for some time, and it's always a pleasure.  Maybe I would have liked a little more bite in the brass at times, but they do have that good German sound which works so well in this music, and play with the right amount of heft and emotion.  Clarity and attention to detail are vitally important in Mahler, and sometimes people forget this amongst all the notes and noise that goes on.  That wasn't a problem at all.  Gilbert led them with a sure hand, with plenty of rubato and sharp turns, although with a feeling of inevitability rather than mannered.  I suppose I could quibble about the interpretation of Pesante (it's not the same thing as "scrappy").  And there were some sour clams from the horns at unfortunate moments, something Gilbert is going to have to get used to in New York.

The Scherzo movement was very tastefully executed (barring the odd ragged wind entrance or horn honk).  This was, as it should be, a country dance, with some very pretty, almost Brucknerian lines in the strings.  Gilbert is good at creating the tension between the more agitated moments and the softer, lyrical passages.  There were another couple of rough spots in the bustling eight-note passages that made think "elbows" again (and maybe with a couple of sectional unisons which almost weren't), but over all it was tight enough.  That "chamber music" section, where it's just the string section leaders have these delicate, yet slightly menacing pizzicatos accompanying an oboe was very nicely done, but again I felt a couple of forced moments when the players seemed just the tiniest bit unsure of when the phrase should start.

Those elbows were back in the famous Adagietto, though.  Every time there was a gorgeous, melting line, it got stepped on at the chord change.  This went on throughout some rather long lines.  One string section would be late, or somebody plunked too hard on it.  I kept picturing the gestures I saw Gilbert do in New York, and I'm not surprised.  It's too bad, really, because I could tell it was some beautiful, expressive playing otherwise.

Fortunately, these problems seemed to mostly vanish in the last movement.  The real activity gets started in the cellos and then spreads elsewhere.  No jagged entrances here, no moments of uncertainty or ham-fistedness.  This was consistent throughout a thoroughly enjoyable finale.  All of Gilbert's positives - as well as the orchestra's - were on display.

There was a smattering of audience applause between all but the last two movements.  Maybe enough harsh glares were finally cast at the offenders?  Surely something can be done about this.

All in all, I have to say I'm still looking forward to what Alan Gilbert does in New York.  Maybe his musical ideas will be enough to get the NY players out of that cold, highly-engineered machine mentality, and he'll clean up whatever that odd hitch is in his technique.  I heard just as many excellent musical thoughts in this concert as I have in the last two or three times I've heard him combined, so that's encouraging.  But can he control the musicians without boring them?  Quite a few of the NY players have watched him grow up, and there is very obviously a great rapport there.  We shall see.

LSO Not So Happy About Gergiev?

On her classical music blog, Jessica Duchen has a post about recent activity by Valery Gergiev.  It concerns the political situation between Russia and Georgia, but that's not what caught my attention.  After the first part of her post, she says this:

"Factions among the LSO players are rumoured to be seriously p***ed off at Gergiev's allegedly somewhat cavalier approach to their rehearsal schedule."

I listened to almost all of his Mahler cycle with them via BBC Radio 3, and the performances have definitely been up and down.  While I really did enjoy a lot of it, there were times when he seemed to be heavily involved in getting some passion out of the orchestra (he's always good at the muscular bits, isn't he?), while at other times he seemed to be miles away.  It was pretty clear that he knew some of the works much better than others, and had more to say about them.

Someone or other said during one of the concert broadcasts remarked that Gergiev seemed to have his head buried in the score.  I commented elsewhere at the time that I noticed some rather "independent" solos here and there, as well as some rather flat moments in the ensemble.  I also remember saying that I couldn't imagine the LSO putting up with that for very long.

Gergiev has long been notorious for his hectic, workaholic schedule.  For years people there have been whispers that this makes him sloppy and unprepared sometimes, but I never heard of any open revolt against it.  The one thing positive I do hear consistently is that he has a great ability to communicate with the orchestra, to get his intentions across and quickly right the ship in times of trouble.  There is also usually praise for his primary concern about making adjustments for the individual acoustics of each concert hall.  But I wonder how long he can continue to counter the bad feelings about his chronic lateness and abrupt rehearsal methods?

Even in the top orchestras the players don't usually have the power to veto a guest conductor.  If anyone can, though, it's the truly independent LSO.  We'll see what happens.

Parsifal at Bayreuth - Wagner Mad Libs?

The Mostly Opera blog has a great roundup of this year's production of Parsifal at Bayreuth.  I actually liked the broadcast of the premier I heard on the radio.  But it looks like I should be grateful I didn't have to watch it:

No controversy in Stefann Herheim's new Bayreuth Parsifal: Myriads of Ideas, but ultimately disappointing

Judging from this description, with supporting evidence from several reviews (also collected on the Mostly Opera blog), this sounds like one of those Mad Libs.  I guess I'm even more glad I didn't pay the $80 to see it on-line. Maybe next year.

In hindsight, I wonder if audience was actually hissing at either the orchestra or at Gatti for his rather glacial pacing, which caused the horns to bleat badly at the end of Act I?  Unless, as I suspected at the time, the musicians didn't like what he was doing, and showed him.