Late masterworks by Sibelius and Beethoven at Severance

Tonight’s Cleveland Orchestra concert had the highest attendance I’ve seen in many months, with an especially attentive audience on hand.

Tapiola, Op. 112, is one of Sibelius’s last works.  The tone poem derives its name from Tapio, the forest spirit, and the music gives the sense of Finnish nature and open spaces.  Music director Franz Welser-Möst and the orchestra brought to the work an unerring sense of pacing and balance, with an especially bracing storm episode – a section which must have been a major influence on film composer Herbert Stothart when he was writing the music to accompany the cyclone in 1939’s The Wizard of Oz. 

Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 in D minor, Op. 125, was the last of the composer’s works to have a grand premiere – just three years before the composer’s death.  Nearly every great conductor and orchestra have performed this work, and this is the third performance I’ve heard led by Welser-Möst (including the Deutsche Grammophon recording, which unfortunately is hampered by middling sonics).  The opening movement was as propulsive as the 2018 performance I attended at Severance, but there was less of the sense of “desperation” that Beethoven indicated in the score.  Initially it was a bit plush until the middle section when everything began to gel.  The second movement, Vivace, included all the repeats and markedly clear timpani strikes.  The third movement, which alternates between Adagio and Andante, was a balance of majesty and poetry – while stripped of all pomposity.  It was in the finale where the night’s greatness lay: the celli and bass rejections of the thematic quotes from the earlier movements had a spielart, or speaking quality, seldom heard in this piece.  The famous theme was presented with a sense of inevitability until the “horrific fanfare” from the movement’s beginning was repeated and bass-baritone Dashon Burton sang his first solo.  The little march that follows Beethoven's exultant “vor Gott” was unusually quick and for a moment it seemed as if tenor Miles Mykkanen was struggling to match Welser-Möst's pace.  But they quickly realigned and from there, orchestra, chorus and soloists masterfully presented Beethoven’s oratorical vision, which included subtle nods to Gregorian chants, Handel’s Messiah, and Mozart’s Magic Flute leading to the composer’s world embracing coda.  The audience erupted in ecstatic cheers at the final note.  Truly this music, which has too often been misused to promote philosophies at odds with Beethoven’s own beliefs, was a much needed balm for these troubled times. 

Presentations of Beethoven’s Ninth are rightfully special events.  I’m glad Welser-Möst brought it back before his tenure with the orchestra comes to an end.

 

Trump’s gauche vandalism of the Peoples’ House

Donald Trump’s decision to demolish the East Wing of the White House, along with his, ahem, questionable decorating choices within the Oval Office, have left Americans with working eyesight and good taste astonished and appalled.  Trump’s shrinking cadre of defenders have replied by bringing up the Truman reconstruction, secret tunnels, and even President Obama’s rather benign partial conversion of the tennis court (far removed from the actual buildings) into a basketball court.  Much of what they share is, at best, incomplete.  Some of it is flat-out misinformation.

Let’s review the history of the White House.  The President’s House, as it was then called, was constructed between 1792-1800. The builders were a combination of enslaved African-Americans (who quarried the stone used for the construction) and employed whites.  The structure was built to the finest standards for American private residences at the time.  But it was deliberately designed to be modest compared to the residences that heads of state occupied in nations like Britain and France. This modesty pertained not just to size, but to design. The décor was simply dignified rather than ostentatious – a reminder that the new nation was neither a monarchy nor particularly wealthy. 

By the time the building was inhabited, George Washington was already dead.  John Adams was the first President to inhabit the home, and only for the final year of his presidency. 

Even before the White House was constructed, several exterior structures were built, including outhouses for the construction crew and, eventually, the first family and others who spent time at the White House.  Under Thomas Jefferson, colonnades were built on the east and west ends of the mansion. 

British troops invaded the Capital in 1814 and burned the White House.  First Lady Dolly Madison, aware the troops were on the way, famously removed  many of the home’s possessions – including artwork and furniture.  Then she laid out a feast for the approaching troops giving the first family and staff time to escape.  The British enjoyed the feast, then set the mansion ablaze.  The building’s internal structure was essentially destroyed with only the four exterior walls left standing.  As with the original construction, cost was a factor when the house was rebuilt.  The original wooden beams and joints were visually inspected for fire damage and approved or rejected for reuse.  But the engineers of the time lacked both the knowledge and the technology to make an accurate determination as to which pieces were fit for reuse.  They were unaware that even without burning, the extreme heat caused by the fire could compromise the material’s integrity.

The British did it...

The first known photo of the White House from 1846

Over the next century, the building and grounds were renovated numerous times.  Several greenhouses were built at various locations.  In the mansion itself, holes were drilled into the wooden supports to create conduits for indoor plumbing, gas lines, and electric wiring.  These invasions caused further stress on the structure.  

The north portico of the White House during the Lincoln Administration.

Other structures were intended as permanent additions – and these were submitted for design review and were rightly paid for with public funds (the use of private funds would have raised accusations of robber barons trying to curry favor with the increasingly powerful Federal government). 

Theodore Roosevelt’s creation of the West Wing was the most significant addition to the complex up to that time – though it should be pointed out that this change didn’t affect the original building itself.  Neither did Roosevelt’s creation of the first part of the East Wing.

It was Calvin Coolidge’s project to add a third floor to the White House in 1927 which sealed the building’s fate.  For the next two decades, groans and cracking sounds could be heard from within the walls, leading the gullible to believe that the building was inhabited by ghosts.

The West Wing was destroyed by a fire in 1929 and hastily rebuilt.  In 1934, Franklin Roosevelt had the West Wing rebuilt to accommodate the growing administration.  He also collaborated with famed architect Eric Gugler, creating a new Oval Office which has been used by Presidents ever since.  Many of the details remained visible nine decades later: built-in bookcases; hidden doors as well as doors topped with robust pediments; the Presidential seal on the ceiling; the subtle, recessed lighting.  That is, until 2025, when Donald Trump began festooning the room with gaudy accoutrements.

FDR in the new Oval Office in 1934.

In 1942, Roosevelt – with Congressional approval – expanded the East Wing.  Part of this was to conceal wartime tunnels which connected the White House to a bunker underneath the treasury department.  It’s worth remembering that from the time the US entered World War II until the day FDR died, a gas mask was strapped to his wheelchair. 

As ambitious as their expansions were, both Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt knew the main building was having troubles.  But they felt little could be done due to the constraints of the Great Depression and World War II. 

Shortly after taking office, Harry Truman noticed significant issues.  As recounted in Robert Klara’s superb “The Hidden White House,” whenever White House butler Alonzo Fields, who stood over six feet tall and was strongly built, walked in the Yellow Oval Room on the second floor, the floorboards would creak and the chandelier in the Blue Oval Room below would sway as its crystals made a tinkling sound.  The floor in another room was beginning to tilt. Truman’s bathtub was starting to sink into the floor.  When a leg of Margaret Truman’s piano crashed through the ceiling of the floor below, Truman knew action had to be taken.  A team of engineers was hired.  They looked behind the walls, under the floors, above the ceilings and delivered their verdict: the building was standing only from “force of habit” and was in danger of imminent collapse. The Truman family moved to Blair House across the street for the duration.

A broken beam under Margaret Truman's bedroom.

Reconstruction

Congress was notified about the situation, and although some Republicans tried to use the issue for partisan gain, most were supportive of Truman’s desire to save the building.  Congress proposed what was the least expensive solution: tear the building down and replace the whole thing.  Truman, who despite his plain-spoken and occasionally profane manner was well-read in history, would have none of that.  He insisted that, no matter the cost, the look of the original White House be preserved.  To do that, engineers found a way to shore up the four outer walls while removing everything within those walls.  Equipment for demolition, excavation, and reconstruction was disassembled, the parts brought in through doors and windows, then reconstructed once inside.  Furniture was removed and stored off-site, the original interior was dismantled with parts labeled and numbered, and what was left was demolished.  Two sub-basements were excavated (partly for support services, partly for security in case of nuclear attack), a new steel frame was built, and the rooms were rebuilt largely based on the original plans.  Through the entire three-year project, Coolidge’s third floor was held in place by steel supports.  The Truman Reconstruction was the first significant building restoration in the history of the United States.  It was far from perfect, mostly because Truman ran out of money before the project was complete.  A decade after Truman returned to the rebuilt White House in 1952, First Lady Jackie Kennedy remarked that much of the décor looked like something out of a Sheraton hotel.  It was she who brought timeless elegance to the building.

Other Presidents have made smaller changes to the White House – mostly a matter of décor.  Presidential families are free to decorate the residence (the top two floors of the building) as they see fit.  Under George W. Bush, Congress approved a major modernization of the White House, which was carried out during the Obama administration.  Obama also added a basketball hoop to the tennis court and painted the appropriate lines – which is recently causing consternation even though Obama has been out of office for over eight years.  I wonder why…

This past week, Donald Trump had the entire East Wing torn down to create a vast, vulgar, gilded ballroom.  The welcome center, colonnade, the famed movie theatre, and First Lady’s offices are all gone.  Neither Congress nor the National Park System were consulted – technically a violation of law since the White House complex is part of the park system and federal property.  Who is paying for this: corporations wanting to curry favor with the Trump administration.  Teddy Roosevelt’s nightmare has come to life. 

What about those doing the actual demolition and construction?  Have they been properly vetted by the FBI and/or Secret Service?  Who knows what could be hidden within the walls of the upcoming grandiose monstrosity.

I can’t think of any past president, of any party, who would approve of what has happened to the White House over the last few weeks.  But Republicans nationwide are largely looking the other way.  I’m old enough to remember than despite their deep political disagreements during the 1980s, President Ronald Reagan and Speaker of the House Tip O’Neill would regularly get together to have drinks, swap stories, and share a few laughs.  During one such conversation, the Republican President and the Democratic Speaker commiserated on the loss of historical architecture and its replacement with “ugly” modern buildings.  That conversation led to the Rehabilitation Tax Credit, which has made possible the renovation and reuse of many older buildings.

Unlike Reagan, Donald Trump has no respect for historical architecture.  He famously destroyed several friezes from the 1929 Bonwit Teller building to build Trump Tower after he said he would preserve them and donate them to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He destroyed Jackie Kennedy’s Rose Garden for a tacky concrete patio. Now he’s destroyed the East Wing after he said he wouldn’t. This level of contempt for simple beauty is unique in our nation’s history. 

Every previous change to the White House was to enhance or add to the existing sight, respecting the original while increasing functionality to account for modernization and the growth of both our nation and the Presidency.  There was nothing “wrong” with the East Wing to justify its demolition. 

I believe Trump’s more vociferous supporters will stand by anything he does.  He could bomb the White House and they would come up with an excuse to rationalize his every action.  Then there are those who simply lack the respect for our nation’s history and the simple good taste to comprehend that Trump’s gaudy, gilded, bloated addition is the definition of tacky.

Autumnal Prokofiev and Brahms at Severance

The weather in northeast Ohio segued from Summer to Fall this week, and it’s appropriate that The Cleveland Orchestra presented a program which was autumnal in both repertoire and performance.

 The concert began with Prokofiev’s Symphony No. 7 in C-sharp minor, Op. 131 – his last work in the genre.  By the time he began work on this Symphony, Prokofiev was a defeated man – denounced as a “formalist” by Soviet musical apparatchiks in 1948, suffering a stroke in 1949, largely withdrawn from public life.  The symphony is permeated by a reflective mood, perhaps nostalgic for an earlier, less repressive era.  Shortly before the work’s premiere, colleagues persuaded Prokofiev to add a cheerful and energetic coda.  But Prokofiev told a colleague that he preferred the original restrained ending.  Franz Welser-Möst and the orchestra honored the composer’s intentions this weekend not just with the ending, but the entire performance, which was suffused with a sense of farewell.  Each movement was perfectly paced and immaculately played – even though this work is hardly a repertoire staple.  The premiere of this work in 1952 marked Prokofiev’s final appearance in public.  In a bitter irony, he died on the same day as Joseph Stalin.

Following intermission, pianist Daniil Trifonov took to the stage to join Welser-Möst and the orchestra in Brahms’ Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat major, Op. 83.  Unlike the Prokofiev Symphony, this work is a repertoire staple.  In fact, Welser-Möst led the orchestra in the piece with soloist Igor Levit back in 2022.  It says something about the conductor’s skill as an accompanist that he can lead two highly disparate interpretations of the same work.  Where Levit’s performance was briskly impulsive, Trifonov’s was ruminative.  Tempi in the first two movements were among the most flexible this listener has ever heard in this work.  There were moments during the scherzo’s trio where Trifonov nearly brought the proceedings to a halt.  The third movement, marked Andante, was more of an Adagio – yet in its way Trifonov’s approach worked.  He was helped by Principal cellist Mark Kosower’s solo which was luminously gorgeous.  Perhaps in contrast with the third movement, the last movement was unusually swift and whimsical.  Despite there being more empty seats than one would expect with a popular guest soloist performing a well-known concerto, the performance was received with a loud ovation.  Trifonov played the briefest of encores, Prokofiev’s Visions Fugitive, Op.22, No. 10 (marked Ridicolosamente).  A pointed contrast to the weighty Brahms Concerto.

Deutsch, Richard Strauss, and Ravel at Severance Hall

Music director Franz Welser-Möst opened The Cleveland Orchestra’s 2025-2026 season with works from the 20^th and 21^st centuries.

The concert began with the United States premiere of Bernd Richard Deutsch’s work for chorus and orchestra, Urworte (Primal Words), co-commissioned by The Cleveland Orchestra.  Cleveland is no stranger to Deutsch’s works, as his work for organ and orchestra, Okeanos, was premiered here in 2019.  This new work is about 55 minutes in length and uses poems from Goethe’s late cycle, Orphic.  As with Okeanos, Deutsch creates vast expanses of sound, using every instrument imaginable – not just the standard orchestral complement of strings, winds and brass, but also wind machine, flexatone, and bamboo wind chimes.  Each of the work’s five movements – Demon, The Accidental, Eros, Necessity, and Hope – had its own flavor.  The orchestra played the work with a polish and commitment that could lead one to believe they had been playing it for many seasons.  In particular, a sensual flute solo from Joshua Smith remains in my mind’s ear.

Composer and orchestra following the performance.

Following intermission Welser-Möst returned to conduct two shorter works.  The first was Dance of the Seven Veils from Richard Strauss’s opera, Salome.  I’ve long wished that the orchestra would present the complete opera; it’s relatively short and easy to stage.  As it was, Welser-Möst cannily held the orchestra in check, milking the rhythms and orchestral colors until the last minute when the piece becomes quite wild. 

The concert came to a resounding close with Ravel’s ever-popular Boléro.  One can question how much goes into interpreting a work which depends primarily on a steady tempo and dynamic control.  Neither on recordings nor in concert have I ever heard this piece begun so quietly – barely audible.  From there it steadily grew in a crescendo which never sacrificed balance or tonal beauty.  All three works on tonight’s program were well received, but the roar from the audience that erupted at the end of the Ravel was as enthusiastic as I’ve ever heard at a Classical music concert.

Chopin and Rachmaninoff with Nobuyuki Tsujii and Slobodeniouk at Severance

2025’s Summers at Severance series concluded Thursday with guest conductor Dima Slobodeniouk and guest pianist Nobuyuki Tsujii.

Tsujii is 36 years old and hails from Japan.  He has been blind since birth but that didn’t prevent him from tying for the Gold Medal at the 2009 Van Cliburn International Piano Competition.  Based on what I heard last night, the prize was entirely deserved.  He and the orchestra performed Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in F minor, Op. 21, a concerto which has been somewhat underappreciated on account of its orchestration which is sort of “meh.”  It’s also a finger twisting challenge for even the most gifted pianists.  Tsujii’s mastery of the work was not merely a question of technique, which would be superb even in a sighted person; Tsujii’s interpretation was entirely his own without resorting to eccentricities.  The pianist avoided unnecessary swooning rubati, instead using constantly shifting dynamics and coloration for expression.  Slobodeniouk and the orchestra presented a lovely accompaniment, with greater clarity than is often heard in this work.  For example, there was a melodic line in the celli that I’d never taken particular notice of in recordings, and the brief sequence in the finale where the strings play col legno battuto (with the wooden side of the bow) was appropriately charming and rustic.   

The performance was rapturously received, and the pianist’s encore was a staggering yet musical rendition of Liszt’s La Campanella. 

Following intermission Slobodeniouk returned to lead the orchestra in Rachmaninoff’s Symphony No. 2 in E minor, Op. 27.  The Cleveland Orchestra has a long association with this symphony, being the first orchestra to record the work in 1928.  The orchestra’s library still has the conductor’s score used at those sessions,  marked in the composer’s own hand with the cuts made to fit the work onto twelve 78rpm sides.  Slobodeniouk performed the work without cuts, as has fortunately become customary these days.  Initially, the first movement moved tepidly along, only catching fire during the long development section where the violas play those low dissonant notes.  From there things improved and Slobodeniouk brilliantly drove the climax and coda home.  The scherzo which followed was on point, with brilliant pacing and voicing of the central fugal section.  The third movement had a lovely plasticity of phrasing, with alternate tension and relief.  This led to a beautifully expansive finale with wonderful use of dynamics and eschewing of the cheap sentimentality occasionally heard in this work.  At the work’s rhythmic conclusion, the conductors eyeglasses flew from his head and into the viola section, where they were promptly retrieved by a violist.

The orchestra’s 2025-2026 season starts in September, and I have already purchased tickets for 20 of the performances. 

90 years of Social Security

Every once in a while, I like to peruse Redfin and other realty sites and look over house listings.  As they say, the three most important things in real estate are location, location, and location.  It continues to amaze me how a modest mid-century modern three-bedroom, two-bathroom home in Palm Springs will sell for over a million dollars.  Despite the increase in local property values over the past five years, one still gets far more for one’s money in northeast Ohio. 

Lately I’ve been looking at homes in Shaker Heights.  There is a section in southeast Shaker with some very attractive two-family homes – although they appear to be single family homes to the casual observer.  Many of these homes have a larger upstairs unit on the second and third floors, and a smaller unit on the first floor.  Closer to the center of Shaker, there are numerous homes with the following layout: social spaces (living and/or family room, sunroom, dining room, and kitchen) on the first floor; bedrooms with two full bathrooms on the second floor; and small bedrooms with a small bathroom (often with a tub but no shower) on the top floor.  I find this layout interesting as the top floor would be ideal for flex space: workout room, office, or guest bedroom.  Nearly all of these houses were built prior to 1930.

What’s the story behind these houses?  Simply, the top floor was meant for servants – usually one cook and one housekeeper.  Before the Great Depression there was a surplus of people who worked as servants.  Most were single younger females or widows and, in the era before the minimum wage was established, they worked for a pittance with no benefits aside from room and board.  Often the servants’ quarters were accessible only through a separate staircase.

My maternal grandfather came of age in a family which had servants under this setup.  He died long before I was born, but I remember visiting his sister’s home in Columbus.  Even as a small child I was impressed with the place, especially the door from the kitchen to the dining room that opened both ways and, yes, they had a servant.

With the growth of the middle-class that accompanied the post-war economy, the live-in servant paradigm came to an end.  In particular, older people were not obligated to work until they died thanks to the Social Security Act, which was signed into law 90 years ago today.

Politicians of both parties, but especially Republicans, have been tampering with Social Security for the last few decades, to the programs detriment.  Early in his second term, President George W. Bush tried to move the Social Security Trust fund toward private investments, which was met with widespread disapproval and began to fracture his political coalition – a fracturing which accelerated after his administration’s inept response to Hurricane Katrina.  Others within the right-wing have tried to mislead people into believing that Social Security is a Ponzi scheme.

This need only be stated for those who don’t understand how Ponzi schemes work: Social Security is not a Ponzi scheme; it is an insurance program which has worked extraordinarily well for 90 years.  As with any insurance program, not every payer of premium receives a benefit, e.g., some die before they reach retirement age.

Today, Social Security is in profound danger of collapsing.  A few simple fixes would make the Social Security trust fund solvent into the 22^nd Century: First, raise the cap on taxable income.  Second, gradually, over time, raise the retirement age by six-month increments every five years commencing in ten years.

Democrats seem unwilling to fight for this multi-generational contract which has saved literally tens of millions of senior citizens from poverty ridden old age.  MAGA Republicans seem desirous of ending the program – even though it is revenue neutral. Part of this worsened by their clamping down of immigration, since migrant workers pay into Social Security but will not draw benefits unless they become citizens. As Harry Truman once said, “The only thing new in the world is the history you don't know."  Truman, an economic populist who tried to institute national health insurance, would be appalled not only by Republican actions, but by the lack of Democratic fire over the issue.  Even Republicans like Dwight Eisenhower and Richard Nixon, who believed in Keynesian economics, would be shocked at the direction their party has taken.

The economic goal of today’s MAGA Republicans is not merely to destroy the social safety net which has helped prevent another Great Depression, they want to take us back to the age of the Robber Barrons and possibly instill a neo-feudalistic economic system.

Unless the average citizen fights back, that’s exactly what they are going to do.   

Liszt, Dohnányi, and Bartók at Severance

The Summers at Severance series continued with guest conductor Christoph Koncz leading The Cleveland Orchestra in music of Hungarian composers Franz Liszt, Ernő Dohnányi, and Bela Bartók.

The concert began with one of Liszt’s better-known orchestral works, Les préludes (Symphonic Poem No. 3).  Truth be told, I’ve never been a huge fan of this piece, nor any of Liszt’s works for orchestra.  It’s always sounded like rather pompous film-music to me.  But Koncz made a convincing case for the work, with a crisp presentation of the material, devoid of mawkishness, sentimentality, or phony swagger. 

Ernő Dohnányi (sometimes referred to as Ernst von Dohnányi) was the father of Hans von Dohnányi, who was murdered by the Nazi regime for his resistance to Hitler, and the grandfather of Christoph von Dohnányi, who was conductor of The Cleveland Orchestra from 1984-2002.  The Symphonic Minutes, Op. 36, from 1933, is an entirely new work to me.  The five short movements - with their very interesting use of rhythm, piquant harmonies, and orchestration - were a delight to hear.

Following intermission, the concert concluded with a surefire hit: Bartók’s Concerto for Orchestra.  Koncz led the orchestra in a performance which was well structured and proportioned, with clear balances, humor in the Interrupted Intermezzo (to the extent that I had to keep myself from laughing out loud at the parody of the theme from Shostakovich’s Seventh Symphony), and spectacular brass playing in the finale.

As a conductor, Christoph Koncz provides direction for the orchestra without needing to put on a balletic show for the audience.  One would like to hear him in more varied repertoire, but based on what I heard and saw last night, he should be on the short list as a possible successor to Franz Welser-Möst.

Despite the hall being only about half-full, the audience was attentive and highly enthusiastic.