American music with Robertson and Hamelin at Severance

Guest conductor David Robertson led the Cleveland Orchestra in a program of 20^th Century American music at Severance Hall this weekend.

The concert began with Aaron Copland’s 1945 version of his suite from  “Appalachian Spring.”  Personally, I prefer the complete ballet in its original version for chamber orchestra, but the performance was so striking this was a minor quibble.  Gone was the orchestra’s typical burnished, European sound – replaced with a clean tone that was quintessentially American.  As a conductor, Robertson is engaging without being ostentatious – a nice contrast from the stodgy kapellmeisters and Intagram hotties who inflict themselves on too many orchestras. The performance was perfectly balanced and the pacing was perfect for a ballet score.  It was well received by the audience, especially an elderly patron behind me who hummed throughout the Simple Gifts section.    

Guest pianist Marc-André Hamelin then took to the stage for George Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, an instantly popular work since its premiere 100 years ago.  Hamelin is, without question, one of the finest pianists in the world today – and quite probably in possession of the finest technique among living pianists.  This performance featured the original orchestration for jazz band by Ferde Grofé.  Clarinetist Daniel McKelway kicked things off with a sexily flirtatious wind up, then pitched things over to trumpetist Michael Sachs for an equally sassy reply.  Hamelin’s contribution included rippling passages seamlessly blended in with the band, while allowing himself more freedom during the work’s solos.  The romantic melody that enters two-thirds into the work was accompanied by the same audience member as in the Copland.  The performance was rapturously received, and Hamelin gave an encore: a beautifully rendered The Single Petal of a Rose by Duke Ellington, which featured some gorgeous pianissimos.

Following intermission, Robertson and Hamlin returned, this time with the full orchestra, for Duke Ellington’s New World A-Comin’, composed in 1943.  Like Rhapsody in Blue, it’s difficult to pigeonhole this work as being in the Classical or Jazz genre, and is best to simply enjoy as fine music.  Perhaps because the piece was unfamiliar to me, I found this performance even more engaging than the Gershwin.  Ellington's piano writing was a bit more colorful and sophisticated than Gershwin's.

The final work of the evening returned the audience to Copland: the suite from his opera “The Tender Land.”  The work, originally composed for television broadcast, had the plug pulled by the NBC network – possibly due to the right-wing interference that was common during the McCarthy era.  As with Appalachian Spring, The Tender Land has the open, rural quality that is considered by many to exemplify American music – even incorporating bird calls in the woodwinds.  Outside of the Party Scene, the piece is primarily contemplative – and despite the work’s quiet ending, was enthusiastically received. 

Beethoven Piano Concertos at Severance – a potpourri of pianists

For months, Cleveland area classical music lovers had been looking forward to a cycle of Beethoven’s five piano concertos, plus the Triple concerto – all featuring pianist Igor Levit and under the direction of Music Director Franz Welser-Möst.  Speculation was that the cycle was to be recorded for later release. 

A few weeks ago, Cleveland Orchestra patrons received this message from Franz Welser-Möst, who has been undergoing treatment for cancer: "I am terribly sorry that I can’t be with you for the upcoming concerts in November. The side effects of the immunotherapy don’t allow me to travel right now. But, I know you will never-the-less, with or without me, enjoy the wonderful playing of your Orchestra. I look forward immensely to return to make great music for you in 2025. I miss you. Thank you!"

We wish Franz a speedy and complete recovery.  Cleveland Orchestra Associate Conductor Daniel Reith stepped up to lead all the programs.

Shortly after Welser-Möst’s announcement, Igor Levit withdrew from the series.

Five pianists stepped in to perform the piano concertos: Orion Weiss, in the Triple Concerto alongside violinist Augustin Hadelich and cellist Julia Hagen; Sir Stephen Hough, Garrick Ohlsson, Minsoo Sohn, and Yunchan Lim in the remaining concertos. 

Orion Weiss is a Cleveland area native – in fact he grew up just a few blocks from my grandmother’s home in Lyndhurst.  I’ve seen him perform several times dating back to when he was a student at the Cleveland Institute of Music.  I’ve also seen Augustin Hadelich perform several times, including a staggeringly brilliant performance of Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto last year.  Beethoven’s Triple Concerto is not a showpiece – it was written for one of the composer’s royal piano pupils who was probably not very advanced.  The greatest technical challenges are reserved for the cellist, who must play in the instrument’s upper registers – which Julia Hagan did with accuracy, aplomb, and musicality.  Hadelich’s joy in performing this concerto – which contains chamber music within it – was palpable.  Weiss brought sparks to the piano part, and all three soloists performed with a sense of communing – something much needed after a difficult and divisive week.  Daniel Reith and the orchestra provided an appropriately scaled accompaniment. 

Soloists and orchestra following the Triple Concerto.

Following intermission pianist Sir Stephen Hough took to the stage to perform Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 3 in C minor, Op. 37.  I must confess that this is far from my favorite piano concerto, even among Beethoven’s concerti.  After hearing Mozart’s concerto in the same key, Beethoven exclaimed to a friend “We shall never have an idea such as that!”  Aside from key signature, there is nothing comparable about the two works.  But Hough brought something special to the piece, a defiant quality that most pianists too often filter out, which hints at the Beethoven that is to come.  The pianist was creative in his deployment of inner voices, with some daring pedaling in the slow movement which allowed harmonies to blend in the way that the composer intended – but which many pianists in their never-ending quest for clarity are loath to allow.  Hough immediately launched from the hushed Largo to the final Rondo so abruptly that it startled some in the audience – which would no doubt have delighted Beethoven.  The orchestra’s contribution was equally bold and decisive. 

Hough and the orchestra acknowledging applause.

Garrick Ohlsson was the soloist for Beethoven’s even numbered concertos.  Unfortunately, near-constant coughing from one audience member behind and to my left (I was in Row T, keyboard side) disrupted my concentration.  The Second Concerto (which was actually written first but published second) was given a lovely, chamber-like quality by Reith and the orchestra.  Despite a minor kerfuffle in the opening movement, Ohlsson’s performance was one of bounce, poetry, and wit.  Despite its mostly lyrical nature, pianists will tell you the Fourth concerto is a beast to play.  I would swear I heard Ohlsson play it at Severance about 20 years ago.  The performance was a model of poise, clarity, and musicality by both pianist and orchestra.  One feature I noticed was Ohlsson’s careful attention to trills and ornaments – each integrated into the piece.  Both performances were enthusiastically received, and the pianist gifted the audience with an appropriate encore: the slow movement from Beethoven’s “Pathetique” Sonata.

Ohlsson after the G major Concerto

The cycle was rounded out with Beethoven’s First Concerto (which was actually composed after the second) and the Fifth Concerto – the so-called “Emperor.”

Beethoven’s First Concerto must have been quite shocking the first time it was heard in Vienna toward the end of the 18^th Century.  In terms of pianism, it goes far beyond anything Mozart dared – with rapid passagework, arpeggios, constant pianistic gear-shifting, and even a glissando.  Minsoo Sohn, who I’d never heard of, was the soloist.  The outer movements were brisk and propulsive, with the pianist employing a wider dynamic range than would have been possible on the pianos of the time.  In the opening movement, Sohn chose the most extroverted of the composer’s three cadenzas, said to be in the spirit of the Beethoven’s own famed improvisations.  The central movement was given chamber music clarity.  The performance was very warmly received, and the pianist played a lovely encore: the Aria from J. S. Bach’s Goldberg Variations – with a rare sense of repose and tasteful embellishments in the repeats.

Sohn’s pupil, Yunchan Lim – who won the Van Cliburn competition last year – was soloist in the “Emperor” concerto.  It hardly needs pointing out that Beethoven did not choose the imperial name for this concerto – simply referring to it as a Concerto in E-flat major for piano and orchestra.  Unfortunately, the name has led to an interpretive approach which too often brings to the work a sense of pomposity and portentousness – as if it was intended for Henry VIII in the late stages of his life.  Lim had none of that.  His treatment of the work was within the classical mode, with an opening movement notable for its lean, lithe approach and brisk tempos.  The central movement was, by contrast, a bit heavier than it needed to be; but this was forgotten when Lim gracefully segued into the final Rondo – delivered with an almost balletic sense of rhythm.  Technically, Lim’s performance was unimpeachable, although some purists may have been offended by the pianist’s penchant for moving several ground bass notes an octave lower than written – beyond the limits of Beethoven’s own keyboard.  The bulk of the audience was highly enthusiastic – myself included.  For his encore, perhaps as a tribute to his teacher, Lim returned to the Goldberg Variations, turning in a reflective rendition of the work’s 13^th Variation.  At a time when much of the country – and the world – is on edge, it was a welcome moment of shared relaxation.

Lim and company following the “Emperor” Concerto.

In conclusion, the substitute pianists were all wonderful.  But Levit’s cancellation irks me.  I can't imagine Arthur Rubinstein would have ever cancelled a concert because the conductor had to withdraw.  In fact, in over 70 years as a pianist, Rubinstein almost never canceled - he even played two concerts in one day when his manager accidentally double-booked him.  The only exception was when he was in his 80s and came down with Shingles.  As for the past two weeks, the loss was Levit’s – not the audience’s.

Sorry, couldn't resist.

Fire and Water at Severance Hall

This weekend Guest conductor Tan Dun led the Cleveland Orchestra in a compelling program of 20^th and 21^st Century music – including two compositions by the conductor himself.

Igor Stravinsky was one of the most eclectic of Classical composers.  Take, for example, his 1908 composition Fireworks.  It was composed as a wedding present for the daughter of his early supporter and advocate, Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov – and almost sounds as if it could have been composed by Stravinsky’s elder compatriot.  Brilliantly orchestrated, there are sections which are reminiscent of Dukas’ The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.  Tan Dun kept the tempo relatively measured and fussiness to a minimum in his no-nonsense presentation of the work. 

Then the conductor led the orchestra in his own Water Concerto, featuring percussionist Mark Damoulakis, assisted by Thomas Sherwood and Tanner Tanyeri.  Tan Dun’s compositions are of the type that my old music professor would have sneeringly called “sonority music,” meaning the focus was not on thematic development and structure but rather on sound itself.  The work began strikingly, with Damoulakis making his entrance from the back of the hall, while playing a waterphone.  As the composer’s imaginative orchestral accompaniment – which included sounds reminiscent of whale song – proceeded, the percussive trio’s instrumentation was expanded to include water basins, water drums, water gongs and tubes, and a sieve.  The water basins were lit from below, which created intoxicating shimmering effects along the sides and ceiling of the stage.  Whatever my professor would have thought, the audience was raptly attentive and highly enthusiastic.

Applause following the Water Concerto;

Lowering of the state extension.

Following intermission, the concert continued with Britten’s Four Sea Interludes from Peter Grimes.  While the opera these derive from isn’t performed as often as those of Mozart, Wagner, or Verdi, the Sea Interludes, composed to cover scene changes, turn up on concert programs with some regularity.  The opening Dawn interlude was darkly atmospheric, but the Sunday Morning interlude was marred by some rough playing from the brass and balances that didn’t sound right from my seat in Row H.  Things settled down in the Moonlight interlude, before the Storm interlude which sounded appropriately chaotic even though the playing was anything but.   

The evening’s final work was Tan Dun’s Concerto for Orchestra, preceded by remarks from the conductor.  When one thinks of a Concerto for Orchestra, Bela Bartok’s masterpiece comes to mind – in which particular instruments or groups thereof are highlighted.  Tan Dun’s Concerto reminds us that the original meaning of “concert” was to plan together; devise; arrange; to act in harmony.  As with the Water Concerto, the composer’s orchestration pushed the concept of symphonic music to the limit as the Concerto evoked an Eastern Bazaar, Indian raga, and China’s Forbidden city.  A most interesting work that bears further hearing.