Saturday, March 16, 2024

Mozart and Bruckner at Severance

It was an evening of contrasts at Severance Hall as pianist Garrick Ohlsson strode on stage to play Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 27 in B-flat major, K.595 with the Cleveland Orchestra conducted by music director Franz Welser-Möst.  The first surprise was the presence of Ohlsson himself, announced just a few days ago as a substitute for Igor Levit, who had to cancel due to illness.  I’ve seen Ohlsson in concert several times, including twice in Busoni’s massive Piano Concerto – the polar opposite of Mozart’s relatively modest work. 

It was common for years to consider this, Mozart’s last work in the genre, as a sort of valedictory – even autumnal – work, given that it was first performed just nine months before the composer’s death in 1791.  More recent scholarship indicates that the work was mostly written in 1788, set aside while the composer concentrated on other projects, then hastily completed when the opportunity to perform a new concerto arose.  Ohlsson’s performance hit every musical point with grace, beauty, just the right touch of emotion, and, well, musicality.  Particularly impressive was his treatment of ornaments and trills – each placed right where they needed to be.  Welser-Möst and the orchestra provided the ideal accompaniment, with secondary lines in perfect proportion to primary ones – audible, but not obtrusive.  Ohlsson responded to the enthusiastic ovation with an encore: Chopin’s Waltz in C-sharp minor, Op. 64, No. 2 – in a performance replete with washes of color and inner-voices reminiscent of the old-school of Horowitz and Cherkassky. 

A musical mentor from when I was in my 20s used to opine that the “three Bs” of Classical music were not Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms – but Bach, Beethoven, and Bruckner.  Another acquaintance used to describe Brucker’s Symphonies as “nothing but Germanic burping and farting.”  I disagree with both of those sentiments, though I do find some of Bruckner’s works a bit long-winded.  Of his Symphonies, the two most congenial to me are the Fourth and the Seventh.  This concert featured the Fourth (in the 1878-1880 version), which the orchestra will repeat near the composer’s birthplace in Austria in September for Bruckner’s bicentennial.  Welser-Möst’s approach to Bruckner is similar to his way with Beethoven and Brahms: tempos on the slightly brisk side, with an emphasis on proportion between movements and sub-movements.  Despite the repetitiveness within this symphony (almost like proto-minimalism), things never seemed to drag.  As for the orchestra’s playing, it was simply spectacular – particularly the brass section.  I found myself enjoying the work, but my opinion on Brucker’s oeuvre remains much the same: skillfully orchestrated blocks of tone, inhabiting their own sound-world – with very little actual composing or development taking place.  If Brucker were a 20th Century composer, he would have found his niche in film music.

It's safe to say I heard more music in that five-minute Chopin Waltz than in the 70 minute Bruckner symphony.

Saturday, March 9, 2024

Weber, Zehavi, and Brahms at Severance

Guest conductor Fabio Luisi, making his Cleveland Orchestra debut this weekend, presided over this evening’s concert at Severance Hall, which was rich with musical nourishment of traditional and newer varieties.  

The concert opened with the popular Overture to Oberon by Carl Maria von Weber, one of his final compositions and easily one of the most perfect overtures ever written.  The gorgeous, hushed horn solo which opened the piece was a harbinger of good things to come.  As the work proceeded and the slow introduction segued into the adventurous middle section, Luisi led the festivities with a sure hand, sans baton. 

The novelty on the program was Oded Zehavi’s Aurora, Concerto for Piccolo and Chamber Orchestra, receiving its world premiere this weekend – some four years after a version with piano and percussion accompaniment was premiered at the Cleveland Institute of Music.  The soloist was the orchestra’s principal piccoloist Mark Kay Fink.  The work opens with a slow, ethereal passage in the strings before the piccolo enters and offers commentary which floats above the orchestra.  From there the listener experiences a variety of tempi and dynamics, with moments of whimsy alongside darker passages.  The composer’s skillful orchestration - including chimes, vibraphone, and wood blocks – provided additional color while never overshadowing the soloist’s well-turned contribution.  The raucous applause Fink received upon her initial entrance was repeated at the end.  The composer was present and shared in the bows.



Following intermission, Luisi returned to lead Brahms’ Symphony No. 4 in E minor, Op. 98.  This happens to be one of my five favorite Symphonies (the others are Mozart 41, Beethoven 7, Schubert 9, and Rachmaninoff 2).  It balances perfect musical architecture with profound emotion.  Luisi approached the opening movement with unhurried, inexorable logic which built organically to the coda’s climax.  The slow movement sang with the nobility that is the essence of Brahms’ greatest works.  The jollity of the scherzo never descended into indignity, and the trio was unusually held back in tempo, so the return of the faster section was all the more shocking.  Doubtless to prevent the audience from breaking into spontaneous applause, Luisi did not pause after the scherzo and immediately launched into the final movement.  As with some of Beethoven’s late works, Brahms looked backward and resurrected an old musical form for the finale: the passacaglia.  Here Luisi was notably flexible in tempo, holding the reins tight with some variations and surging forward with others.  But the tempi never seemed imposed, but rather organic as the movement completed one of Brahms’ most courageous musical decisions: ending the symphony in a minor key.  Throughout the entire symphony, Luisi took especial care with balance so that each section was heard in proper proportion – and there were orchestral details revealed in this performance which escape even the best engineered recordings.  This was a Brahms 4 to remember, and the audience knew it.   

  

A note on Music Criticism

There are too many online music boards in our internet age to list, even for a relatively niche genre like Classical music.  A common theme is “critic bashing,” and nearly every professional critic has been subject to it – even a non-professional critic like me has come in for his share of bashing.  I recently read a comment whining that a well-known critic, who posts his own very entertaining videos on YouTube, was just a “failed percussionist.”  First, how does one define “failed”?  Is the person in question a failure because he does not hold a position in a paid, professional orchestra?  So what?  There are numerous performers of all kinds who have opted to pursue a career outside the arts simply because the outside career offers greater stability and remuneration.  Is that a bad thing?  In my mind, it’s certainly preferable to performers who use their connections to promote themselves despite having no business inflicting their mediocrity on an unsuspecting audience.  For the record, I greatly enjoy the videos posted by the critic in question, and I have enjoyed reading his reviews for decades – even when I disagree with him. 

The irony is that the commenter who sparked these thoughts appears to have no musical training whatsoever, which begs the question: who is better equipped to be a music critic: a failed musician, or a non-musician?

The flip-side is that the critic in question has opined that only the opinions of professional critics should carry any weight and has implied that we amateurs should simply silence ourselves.  Sorry, I’m not going to do that.  First, I write these reviews for myself, so I have a virtual diary of concerts I’ve been to and recordings I’ve listened to.  Second, the state of music criticism in Northeast Ohio is rather dire – our major newspaper does not have a full-time Classical music critic.  Instead, it uses a “lifestyle reporter” (whatever that is) who also writes music reviews which offer neither knowledge nor real criticism.  There’s another critic who runs his own local Classical music website and, while he is clearly knowledgeable about music, his writing is often of the “rah, rah” variety.  Those who’ve read my reviews know that I am dedicated to writing the truth and that I have no other agenda (pro or con) and that I worship no sacred cows.   

 Thus, I offer these reviews to the public free of charge because I believe my musical thoughts carry some validity and should be part of a historical record that is scarcely being written.  As I’ve said to a younger friend to whom I offered advice, “You can accept it, take it under consideration, or reject it entirely.”

You’re welcome.

Monday, March 4, 2024

My review of Aaron Copland - Complete Columbia Album Collection

My latest review, for Sony's new Aaron Copland album collection boxed set, has been posted.  As there is nothing pending release that interests me, this will be my last recording review for a while.  Click here to read.  



Saturday, March 2, 2024

Mälkki and Kanneh-Mason at Severance

After last week’s disappointing concert at Severance, it was doubly enjoyable to hear relatively rare classics superbly realized by guest conductor Susanna Mälkki and, making her Cleveland Orchestra debut, pianist Isata Kanneh-Mason.

The concert began with Anton Webern’s orchestration of J. S. Bach’s Ricercare from his Musical Offering, BWV 1079.  The original work, a six voiced fugue based on a bleak theme by King Frederick II of Prussia, did not specify which instrument(s) should be used.  Webern’s orchestration begins starkly and steadily builds to a magnificent ending that could have only come from Bach’s pen.  Mälkki’s conducting provided the steady hand – or perhaps I should state the steady baton – the work required.  

This was followed by the Concerto in A minor by Schumann – Clara Schumann.  Her husband’s Concerto in the same key, written some ten years after the wife’s piece, has always seemed a bit trite and overplayed to me – as beautiful as some of the melodies are.  This work, premiered in 1835, displays both its own influences and provides a look into the future of the concerto genre.  The pianistic influences mainly come from Chopin’s concertos, which were hot off the press when Clara Schumann, still a teenager, was composing this work.  The opening movement, in particular, was resplendent with finger-twisting filigree which could easily be mistaken as coming from the Polish master.  But the work also looks forward, particularly in the duet between piano and cello in the slow movement, which presages a similar approach by Brahms in his Second Piano Concerto – composed over four decades later.  Also, the three movements are joined, as Liszt would do in his Second Piano Concerto, which premiered five years after Schumann’s work.  Kanneh-Mason brought everything that was needed to the work: formidable technique, flowing phrasing, an unerring sense of balance - the best kind of virtuosity.  Mälkki and the orchestra provided the ideal accompaniment – especially the lovely cello playing from principal cellist Mark Kosower.  A very enthusiastic and sustained ovation followed, and Kaneh-Mason responded with a nicely contrasting encore, Gershwin’s Prelude No. 1.

Kanneh-Mason following the concerto

Following intermission, Mälkki returned to conduct Hindemith’s Symphony: Mathis der Maler, composed from material the Hindemith was putting together for an opera of the same name which premiered in 1938 – four years after the Symphony.  The work was composed under trying circumstances, as the composer, living in Germany, was being harassed by the Nazis.  He emigrated to Switzerland in 1938 and to the United States two years later.  The music, inspired by the painter Matthias Grünewald’s struggle for artistic freedom in 16th Century Germany, is in three movements, each in turn based on a painting by Grünewald: Angelic Concert, Entombment, and The Temptation of Saint Anthony.  What struck me about the music, which I’ve only heard infrequently, was that there was nothing in it to offend anyone in his right mind musically.  Mälkki brought to the performance everything that was missing from last week’s concert: broadness of conception, splendor of tone, a wide dynamic range, a sense of balance and pacing that were just so “right.”  There was spontaneous applause after the opening movement, and numerous curtain calls after the finale.  More important, the audience was the quietest I’ve witnessed since the return to concertizing after the COVID lockdown.    



The paintings by Grünewald


The thread that ran through this program was, simply, oppression.  Bach was virtually ordered to compose a six voice fugue by King Frederick II; Clara Schumann had to put her composing career aside to advocate for her husband’s works, to raise their eight children, and become her husband’s caregiver as he lost his grip on reality; and Hindemith had to flee Nazi persecution.   

Ever since music director Franz Welser-Möst announced he would not be renewing his contract in 2027, there has been much speculation as to his successor.  The orchestra could do much worse than to give Susanna Mälkki serious consideration.

 

 

 

Saturday, February 24, 2024

Haydn & Beethoven with Queyras and Herreweghe at Severance

Largely comfortable and familiar classics were on the menu at tonight’s Cleveland Orchestra concert at Severance, featuring guest conductor Philippe Herreweghe and, in the Haydn, cellist Jean-Guihen Queyras.

In 1950, Leopold Stokowski traveled to Cleveland for his overdue debut here.  At the first rehearsal, as recalled by assistant conductor Louis Lane, a few comments from Stokowski about bowing and attack were sufficient that, after 15 minutes, the orchestra’s sonority was transformed to sound like the Philadelphia Orchestra, circa 1936.  74 years later, Herreweghe has managed to do the same – in the opposite direction: I have never heard the Cleveland Orchestra play with such inexpressivity. 

The concert began with a rushed, dynamically constricted rendition of Beethoven’s “Egmont” Overture.  The reduced string section here robbed dynamic climaxes of what Beethoven certainly intended as a dramatic effect, and the lack of string vibrato left much of the work sounding uncharacteristically anemic.  It almost seemed as if I was listening to an overly filtered, old mono recording of the orchestra.  Egmont was composed as incidental music for a play by Goethe about Lamoral, Count of Egmont, whose rhetoric and subsequent execution helped rouse his countrymen to overthrow Spanish invaders and form an independent Netherlands.  A heroic tale.  But in Herreweghe’s hands, the overture was more incidental than heroic.   

Haydn’s Cello Concerto in C major, composed in the 1760s, then lost until its rediscovery in 1961, proved the high point of the evening.  One could take the cellist’s technique for granted, particularly his navigation of the finale’s rapid passagework in the instrument’s treacherous upper range.  Then there was his tone, which was lean yet full, lyrical yet not syrupy.  Best of all, Queyras brought tasteful expressivity and a joyous sense of communicativeness to the solo part – while always blending with the ensemble.  This performance received the warmest applause of the evening, and Queyras responded with a double encore: a Bach prelude preceded by a brief Ukrainian folk song – a poignant reminder that Russia’s brutal invasion of Ukraine began two years ago today.      

Queyras after the performance.

Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony, was subtitled by the composer himself: "Pastoral Symphony, or Recollections of Country Life."  It is in five movements instead of the customary four.  I’ve loved this work since the first time I heard it, at the age of 14.  The opening movement, depicting the “awakening of cheerful feelings on arrival in the countryside”, was brisk – as if the composer was in a hurry to get out of Vienna.  The second movement, titled “Scene by the brook,” fared better – the reduced strings making it easier to hear contributions from the winds – particularly the nightingale, quail, and cuckoo that Beethoven ingeniously wrote into the music.  This was followed by the villagers’ dance, which resounded with merriment – the high point of the performance.  The fourth movement’s storm was not cataclysmic, just some rain and a few minor flashes of lightning, followed by a noncommittal song of Thanksgiving.  The main floor of the hall appeared to be at about two-thirds capacity, with a few people leaving during the final movement, and many more not bothering to join in the applause after the Symphony’s conclusion. 

Saturday, February 17, 2024

Ammann, Benjamin, Knussen, and Ravel at Severance

Saturday night’s concert at Severance, featuring guest conductor and composer George Benjamin, yielded consistently strong performances of music that varied widely in quality. 

The concert began with a proverbial bang in Dieter Ammann’s glut.  This is one of those pieces that takes the “everything but the kitchen sink” approach to orchestration, with the stage crowded by every conceivable instrument, especially percussion.  As for the quality of the work itself, it was a collection of gimmicks in search of an idea.  There were plenty of sonorities to be heard, but little in the way of actual composition.  My concert companion remarked that it sounded like "cartoon music on Crack."

The second work was Benjamin’s own Dream of the Song, where the orchestra was joined by countertenor Tim Mead and the Cleveland Orchestra Chorus.  The work, consisting of six songs set to texts by various authors, contains moments of searing lyricism.  Mead was more than up to the task of both navigating some treacherously high notes and providing emotional heft.

Counter Tim Mead and conductor George Benjamin 
following Dream of the Song

Both works on the first half of the program were local premieres.

Following intermission, Benjamin led the orchestra in Oliver Knussen’s The Way to Castle Yonder, a suite of orchestral interludes from his opera Higglety Pigglety Pop!. Knussen, who died in 2018, was no stranger to Cleveland, and led the local premiere of this work in 1993.  Here, orchestral color was mixed with a sense of dramatic through-line, and the complex orchestration served to highlight the work’s themes. 

The final work, Ravel’s Ma mère l’oye, was likely the main draw – although it’s far from a classical top-40 hit like his Bolero.  The performance was resplendent with color and texture, more clarity than one usually hears in this work – and a dash of poetry.  It also provided a chance for me to observe Benjamin’s economical, unobtrusive conducting technique – not a movement was wasted, and every gesture was for the benefit of the orchestra, not the audience. 

Saturday, February 10, 2024

Schubert and Beethoven with Saraste at Severance

The musicians were well behaved but the audience was not at Saturday’s performance of The Cleveland Orchestra at Severance.  The guest conductor was Jukka-Pekka Saraste, substituting for Herbert Blomstedt. 

Schubert

The concert opened with Schubert’s Symphony No. 6 in C major, D. 589 – the so-called “Little” C major.  This is to distinguish it from the “Great” C major Symphony No. 9, which is nearly double in length as the Sixth.  Unfortunately, I was too frequently distracted by misbehaving audience members to fully immerse myself in the work or the performance.  In all the years I’ve been attending concerts at Severance, I’ve never heard more coughs, more electronic beeps, more applause between movements, nor seen more people milling about than during the Schubert.  From what I could hear of the performance, it was a beige if polished rendition of a rather beige Symphony. 

Beethoven

The main floor of the hall was about three-quarters full for the Schubert.  During intermission more people milled in and appeared to be at near capacity for Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 in C major, Op. 67.  Beethoven’s Fifth is, of course, a repertoire staple which needs no introduction.  It’s fair to say that the work has been performed to death.  Yet Saraste and the orchestra brought a noteworthy sense of proportion, balance, and clarity to the work.  Even the loudest passages of the outer movements avoided any harshness of tone, and the work held the audience’s attention sufficiently so that there were none of the distractions that marred the Schubert.  The work’s conclusion was met with enthusiastic applause and cheers.