Coiled Anticipation: Spring For Music 2012

The festival returns to Carnegie Hall for its second season.
by Paul Pelkonen

Spring for Music. This is not the logo or anything.

Starting Monday night, Carnegie Hall opens its venerated doors to the Spring For Music Festival, six concerts with lesser-known North American orchestras playing a combination of 20th and 21st-century repertory from deep corners of the repertory. 

Sounds exciting?

Did we mention that all tickets for these concerts are dirt cheap at $25?.

Concert Review: The Siege of Broad Street

Vladimir Jurowski conducts the Leningrad Symphony.

Leading the charge: conductor Vladimir Jurowski.
Photo by Roman Gontcharov.

In 2011, the Philadelphia Orchestra labors under the prospect of planned cuts to the members' salaries and to their roster. On Friday afternoon, the beleaguered ensemble played a work written in even worse circumstances: the Seventh ("Leningrad") Symphony of Dmitri Shostakovich. Vladimir Jurowski conducted.

Mr. Jurowski is a second-generation maestro, a member of the "baton pack" of 30 and 40-something young conductors who have reinvigorated the world of classical music with fresh ideas and enthusiasm for this music. He led a razor-sharp account of this tricky work, making the repeated passages of interest and tying the themes together to recreate the sounds of a frozen battlefield in the concert hall.

Shostakovich composed the first three movements of the Leningrad Symphony as the Nazis marched on the city and settled in for a 900-day siege. Eventually, the composer and his family fled to the temporary Soviet capital of Kuibyshev, (Samara)  where he work had its world premiere. The Seventh was a smash success, and received its U.S. premiere in Philadelphia, conducted by Arturo Toscanini.

That premiere was at the venerated Academy of Music. For this one, at the nearby and much newer Kimmel Center, the performance opened with the rich, characteristic string tone that is a Philadelphia trademark. Dark, lush sonorities evoked the landscape of a happy, peaceful Russia. Maybe the music is a bit idyllic here--after all, Stalin was in power, but this is Shostakovich painting his homeland as a worker's paradise.

The "invasion" is the work's most famous section, 12 repetitions of a simple theme, based on Fritz Lehar's The Merry Widow (a favorite of the opera-loving Hitler). It starts imperceptibly anchored by the rat-a-tat of a gradually approaching snare drum. (Shostakovich's model here was Ravel's Bolero.) Mr. Jurowski maintained strict control of the dynamics, increasing the volume wih each variation until the sound of the 16-piece brass section echoed the cannon-fire of Russia under siege. A mournful bassoon solo followed, depicting the aftermath.

In the doleful second movement, the Philadelphia woodwinds moved to the fore, with a gorgeous oboe solo before the start of a second ostinato of smaller dimension than the first. A lyric slow movement followed. Meant to depict the vast white reaches of the country around Leningrad, the idyll was interrupted briefly by klaxon-like sounds from the orchestra that raised the alarm once more.

Shostakovich looked into the future with his finale, depiciting the Russians kicking the Germans out and celebrating victory. Shostakovich's model here is Sibelius' Second Symphony, which has a similar prognostication. (In the work by the Finnish composer, it is the Russians who invade, then have their eventual defeat predicted.) 

The "Victory" ends with what might be the most stirring chord in symphonic repertory. It is certainly the loudest. The trombones rose to their feet and the huge band played at full strength, hovering just around the pain threshold for the ear in a blazing triumph of sound. As the mighty Philadelphians depicted these historical events one hopes that forthcoming cuts to the orchestra will not deprive their audience of future performances on such a massive scale.

Wolfgang Amadeus...Juggalo?

Detroit rappers and rocker cover a Mozart rarity. 
by Paul J. Pelkonen

One of these band-members is dead. Guess which one? (L.-R. Jack White, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart,
Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope of the Insane Clown Posse.) Image collage © 2011 Popdust.

Stranger things have happened. Tooling around on YouTube late tonight, I learned that earlier this year, Detroit rock'n'roller Jack White collaborated with southwest Detroit rappers Insane Clown Posse to record a work by Mozart.

At first look, Joseph "Violent J" Bruce and Joseph "Shaggy 2 Dope" Ulster are unlikely candidates to perform Mozart. They're known for their mix of "horrorcore" rap and heavy metal. They wear full black-and-white clown makeup when performing. The ICP fan base (known as "Juggalos") also wear the same makeup and are known for their devotion to the group's music, clothes, and professional wrestling association. And the FBI thinks their fan-base qualifies as a "gang." No, I didn't make the last two things up.

Anyway, these two Clowns were invited to Jack White's home in August 2011 to collaborate on Mozart's Canon in B. Flat K. 321. This canon is a setting of the German phrase "Leck mich im Arsch." That translates to "Lick me on the ass," a common insult phrase in German. The single was released by Mr. White's Third Man label in September.


Mozart loved puns and his resolutely filthy sense of humor. Leck mich im Arsch was  probably set to amuse Mozart's circle of friends. But the phrase is more than just a gutter insult. In fact, the Viennese recognized this phrase as a witty allusion to the 1773 play Götz von Berlichingen, by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.
The ICP version, produced by Mr. White features the Faygo-loving outlaws rapping over the six-part canon in a choral arrangement. There's a heavy guitar and drum riff, and the pounding stops just long enough for a harpsichord solo.

It's three minutes long, and almost as weird as hearing Lou Reed sing with Metallica. You can hear it for yourself here.

And in the interests of good taste (when writing about music that involves ass-licking) here's the original Mozart, performed by the Chorus Viennensis under the direction of Uwe Christian Henner. Originally released on Philips Records as part of the Complete Mozart Edition.

Concert Review: Norway, the Hard Way

The Grieg Festival Orchestra plays...Grieg.

Conductor Per Brevig. Photo by Randy Wilson © Grieg Festival Orchestra.

On Sunday afternoon at Alice Tully Hall, Per Brevig led his Grieg Festival Orchestra through a program commemorating the victims of the July bombings and shootings in the Norwegian capital of Oslo. Mr. Brevig, a former trombonist with the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, displayed a commitment to the music of his homeland, programming a modern piece by composer Aarne Nordheim alongside the more familiar music of Grieg.

The performance opened with a Funeral March, written by Grieg in memory of his friend the composer Richard Nordraak. This was an orchestral transcription of the march, which Grieg originally wrote as a piano work. It was later played at Grieg's own funeral. With low strings and dark, growling brass, this was a somber performance, skilfully led.

It was followed by Grieg's lone Symphony, an early work that the composer had withdrawn, saying that there was too much of Schumann in its pages. Grieg may have been right in that assessment, but Mr. Brevig and his orchestra made a persuasive case for this neglected piece. The sprightly playing in the oboes and rhythmic snap in the strings gave the music an authentic-sounding  flair. The well-balanced orchestra sounded resonant in the crisp acoustic of Alice Tully Hall.

The second half of the program started with the composition by Mr. Nordheim. Tenebrae (the title means "Darkness") is a roving four-movement quasi-concerto for solo cello and orchestra. Darrett Atkins played the solo part with force, fraying the horse-hair off his bow. He stared fiercely at the sheet music as he played, whipping through the scraped tone-rows and occasional melodies required by this demanding piece.

Although the work had some memorable sections, there were points where the orchestral tuttis were played at such a volume that it was impossible to hear. Following another barrage of tone-clusters, Mr. Nordheim's quiet, almost monotone ending brought welcome relief and a soothing sonic balm.

Further relief was provided by the concert's closer, Grieg's evergreen Piano Concerto. The declarative opening bars brought smiles of recognition to the audience. Anne-Marie McDermott played the solo part with a forceful energy, working closely with Mr. Brevig over the four movements. 

In the second movement, Mr. Brevig's enthusiastic conducting was a little too forceful. At one point, his baton sprang forth from his hand and went flying into the first row of seats. A thoughtful audience member placed the little white stick neatly on the stage, and the concert continued uninterrupted.

Concert Review: The Rising Force

The Budapest Festival Orchestra takes Carnegie Hall.

Budapest Festival Orchestra conductor Iván Fischer.

This year the Budapest Festival Orchestra has built a strong reputation with New York audiences. Last spring, Iván Fischer's band roared through The Rite of Spring.  Last summer, they offered a compelling, fully-staged Don Giovanni at Mostly Mozart. Saturday night's concert at Carnegie Hall, featuring the music of Bartók and Schubert only added to that legacy.

Mr. Fischer chose an unusual seating arrangement for his players. Woodwinds were placed at the front, with the principal oboe in front of the concertmaster. All the bassists used five-string instruments. They were dead center, behind the brass. Other players moved around depending on which piece was being played.

The program opened with a Bartók rarity: settings of Hungarian Peasant Songs. These works were played with firm brass tones (especially from the trombones) and delicate, playful work from the oboe and clarinet. The tuba, moved to the front for these pieces enjoyed great prominence. Following what seems to be a trend among orchestras this year, Mr. Fischer had his violins and violas play these songs standing up.

The orchestra was joined by soloist András Schiff for Bartók's Second Piano Concerto. Mr. Schiff remains a sublime pianist, bringing out the lyric beauty in Bartok's high-speed, staccato keyboard figures and displaying a smooth legato. The solo part seemed to spill from his fingers in the slow second movement, accompanied by Mr. Fischer with a delicate, pointillist beauty. It's not surprising that these two Hungarian musicians work in a smooth tandem--they recorded all three Bartók concertos together for Teldec. Moreover, they were at school together.

Mr. Schiff held the Hall rapt in the last movement. His hands fluttered and dove over the keyboard, at one point bouncing out the melody in the high register with his right as his left raced up the lower regions. It was stunning playing, met with an enthusiastic reception. The soloist obliged the adulation with a pair of encores: a Schubert Impromptu and Liszt's lyrical Hungarian Rhapsody No. 5.

Schubert's Ninth Symphony sat in a drawer at the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde in Vienna for a decade. In 1838, ten years after Schubert's death, it was shown to composer/critic Robert Schumann. Dubbed the "Great" Symphony, the Ninth has since become an orchestra standard, the most popular Schubert symphony besides the "Unfinished."

Mr. Fischer's interpretation did much to blow the dust from this well-traveled score. Schubert's innovative combination of wind, horns and trombone stands at the core of this work, and Mr. Fischer's choice to move the winds forward led to a superbly balanced sound. 

A noble, searching horn theme started the first movement, taken here at a slightly fast pace. Mr. Fischer maintained this momentum through the work, letting the eloquence of Schubert's echoing conversation between winds and strings speak for itself. The climax of the opening movement surged with joy and power that belied the composer's dire last years. 

The two dance movements, a fleet-footed Andante and joyful Scherzo also featured expert playing from the Budapest winds. Mr. Fischer drew extra reserves of power for the final Allegro, bringing the argument of this long symphony to a giddy climax. The last phrases, with staccato trumpets and stomping tuba sounded like a happy round dance, a rustic celebration in the tradition of Beethoven's Sixth.

The orchestra ended with what Mr. Fischer announced as their traditional encore: a cheerful and very Hungarian dance. It was a strong end to a solid program, another feather in the cap for this excellent, innovative and rapidly rising European orchestra.

Concert Review: Reality Check

Britten's War Requiem at the White Light Festival.

Okey-Dokey. Conductor Gianandrea Noseda led huge forces in Sunday's War Requiem.
Photo by John Super © 2011 London Symphony Orchestra.

The enormous resources called for in Benjamin Britten's War Requiem were almost beyond the means of Avery Fisher Hall on Sunday afternoon. They included the full strength of the London Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, a small chamber orchestra (drawn from LSO players and squeezed in around the conductor's podium), three vocal soloists and the American Boychoir. The kids had to sing through a door leading offstage.

In these tight quarters, the spacious antiphonies of this complicated work (premiered in 1962 at the dedication of the new Coventry Cathedral following the destruction of the original by Luftwaffe bombs in 1940) didn't quite work. Giandrea Noseda did an admirable job of marshaling his forces, achieving a remarkable aural balance of the four groups. He conducted with vigor.

The London Symphony Chorus was a force unto itself, declaiming the Latin text of the mass with the authority of the Metatron. The fiery incantations of the Dies Irae (featuring ear-splitting playing from the brass in the "Tuba Mirum") blazed forth with power. They were also key contributors to the success of the later movements, especially the slow-moving setting of the Agnus Dei.

The Offertorium is the dark heart of this strange piece. Here, the composer re-tells the story of Abraham and Isaac. However, Isaac is sacrificed by his father in the accompanying Wilfred Owen poem: an echo of the horrors of war. This is Britten at his most cutting. The hollow fugue at the end was a grim, Shostakovich-like joke.

Tenor soloist Ian Bostridge sang repertory that was suited to his unique instrument. Mr. Bostridge took advantage of Britten's high vocal lines, airing them easily over the chamber ensemble. He added emotional weight to these words, making the bleak landscapes of war-torn Europe flicker with ghostly light.

He was paired with baritone Simon Keenlyside, an opera star in his own right. Mr. Keenlyside's smallish, dark-hued instrument was perfect for "At the thrust of Lightning in the East" in the Sanctus. Soprano Sibina Civilak also sang beautifully from the space between the orchestra and chorus, tossing off some glorious notes in the Lacrimosa.

The small cadre of boy trebles also made an important contribution from their offstage post. The two singers joined voices on on the last poem, "Strange Meeting." The scene: an encounter between two wounded enemy soldiers in a tunnel full of corpses. As Mr. Bostridge and Mr. Keenlyside sang out the lines of the poem, the women of the LSO Chorus echoed with  "In paradisum" from the Libera me section of the Mass. This made for a stratospheric, if icy climax.

Benjamin Britten was a committed pacifist, and did not pull punches in his work that combines the Latin Mass for the Dead with battlefield poetry. This is one of the composer's most dramatic and most popular pieces, a work that is all too apt for today's audiences. The White Light Festival may be about bringing its audience out of their daily lives, but under Mr. Noseda the Requiem was a sharp reminder of reality.