Smetana, Rachmaninoff, and Dvořák with Bychkov and Ohlsson

The Summers at Severance 2026 season commenced with the welcome return of guest conductor Semyon Bychkov and pianist Garrick Ohlsson in a program of Smetana, Rachmaninoff, and Dvořák.  Owing to smoke from the Canadian wildfires, the customary pre-concert drinks and snacks with light music were moved indoors to the safety and comfort of one of America’s first air-conditioned halls.  As is common for summer concerts, the program was focused on easily digestible standard repertoire. 

Bychkov opened the program with The Moldau from Smetana’s Má vlast.  The performance highlighted the orchestra’s beautiful, burnished tone – far suaver than that caught on most recordings.  But some parts seemed overly smooth as the conductor deemphasized dynamic contrasts like the subito pianos during the wedding dance sequence.  Still, this was a performance of rare technical polish.

Following a quick stage change, Ohlsson, no stranger to Cleveland, joined conductor and orchestra for Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in F-sharp minor, Op. 1.  It would be tempting to call Rachmaninoff’s work one of the most arresting first opuses in history, but in truth it bears little resemblance to what the composer played when the work’s opening movement was premiered in 1892.  Instead, it was heavily patterned after Grieg’s Piano Concerto.  Rachmaninoff’s 1917 changes to the work – too drastic to be considered a revision, more of a rewrite, resulted in a more concise, dramatic piece.  Ohlsson, who I’ve twice heard conquer Busoni’s massive, 70+ minute long Piano Concerto, definitely has the chops to play this piece.  But what really impressed with his performance were the musicality and sense of structure – something too often lost by soloists who pursue gushing melodies or pianistic pyrotechnics.  Bychkov and the orchestra furnished an accompaniment which was rich without descending in Hollywood-esque schmaltz.  The audience began applauding before the last chord finished echoing off the hall’s back wall.

During the first curtain call, someone in the first row gave Ohlsson a large bouquet of flowers and he continued to carry them with him, including when he returned to the piano to play an encore.  The pianist humorously introduced it by saying “There’s no need to announce this piece because everyone will know it,” before beginning a poetic rendition of Debussy’s Clair de lune, featuring plasticity of phrasing and lovely pianissimos.

 

Ohlsson before the bouquet was handed to him.

Following intermission Bychkov returned to lead the evening’s concluding work, Dvořák’s Symphony No. 8 in G major, Op. 88.  This is probably the composer’s most joyous symphony.  Though I was able to perceive the work’s overall character, a nagging headache prevented me from concentrating enough on the performance itself to impart its details.  

Beethoven’s Fidelio at Severance

Franz Welser-Möst and the Cleveland Orchestra are wrapping up the 2025-2026 Season this month, and this weekend featured the orchestra’s annual opera production: Beethoven’s only work in the genre, Fidelio.

Let’s put the obvious up front, as an opera, Fidelio has strengths and glaring weaknesses.  It went through two failed productions in 1805 and 1806 before it was heavily revised and successfully mounted in 1814.  Beethoven was never a great writer for the voice, and this opera puts that limitation front and center. The libretto, which was based on two previous operas, centers around a woman who disguises herself as a man to get a job as a prison guard and free her husband from captivity.  Beethoven’s pacing is uneven and things don’t really get moving until the second act.  Yet what matters most is not the details of the plot, but the thematic context: the durability of love and freedom from oppression.

This was my first time seeing Fidelio.  Though it was presented without staging, several things came through that aren’t that apparent on recordings: the humor when Marzelline snarkily resists Jaquino’s advances in the first act; or the absurdity when Rocco notes of Leonore/Fidelio “this woman was about to become my son-in-law!”

As usual, the orchestra played spotlessly and with superb balance, so the singers were never overpowered.  Welser-Möst’s pacing was masterful.  Tony F. Sias presented the narrative sections in English which helped clarify the plot.  The singers were consistently on a high level; but special mention must be made of David Butt Philip’s performance as Florestan, whose opening “GOTT!” was simply astonishing.

In today’s era, particularly in the United States, when LGBTQ people find their rights being threatened, and when trans and non-binary people are subject to increasing hostility, the Cleveland Orchestra’s production of Fidelio can be legitimately seen as having more than musical context.  The past few years have demonstrated that this valued and venerable Cleveland institution is unafraid to make statements that go beyond pure music. 

Prokofiev, Neuwirth, and Wagner with Welser-Möst and Widmann

With the Cleveland Orchestra’s 2025-2026 season approaching its close, music director Franz Welser-Möst returned to the podium to lead a program that seemed tailor made for the ensemble: a popular early-20^th Century Symphony, the US premiere of a new work, capped off by roof-shaking opera excepts from the 19^th Century.

The concert opened in with a perfectly proportioned rendition of Prokofiev’s Symphony No. 1 in C major, the so-called “Classical” symphony.  Welser-Möst adopted a slightly more relaxed tempo than usual for the opening movement, almost an Allegro moderato instead of Allegro. This contrasted nicely with a somewhat brisker than usual second movement, before moving onto a Gavotte which featured some beautifully timed rubati when the winds entered with the main theme.  The Finale, which featured the repeat, was especially buoyant.

Clarinet soloist Jörg Widmann (a composer himself) joined Welser-Möst and the orchestra for Zones of Blue, a new work by Austrian composer Olga Neuwirth.  This is one of those works which takes the “everything but the kitchen sink” approach to orchestration.  I won’t waste your time or my mental energy going over the details of a work which was a curious mix of half-hearted riffs from Gershwin (including the opening salvo of Rhapsody in Blue) and Miles Davis, mixed with orchestral noise. I have never particularly cared for the sound of the clarinet, and this work only served to aggravate my tinnitus.

The second half of the concert was devoted to a well-selected grouping of from Götterdämmerung, the final opera in Wagner’s The Ring of the Nibelung tetralogy.  Welser-Möst’s approach to Wagner somewhat reminds me of Karl Böhm’s.  He keeps the tempos moving yet flexible, without allowing the orchestra to sound overly bombastic – as doing so in an actual operatic performance would overwhelm the singers.  This made for an effective, cohesive presentation of what are usually derisively referred to as “bleeding chunks” from Wagner’s epic.

A relic from an earlier era at Severance

The previous day, Daniel and I attended a performance The Outsiders musical at Connor Palace theatre in Playhouse Square.  The performers should be lauded, but the musical numbers themselves were weak.  The whole did not pack the emotional punch of the 1983 film.  

Britten’s War Requiem at Severance

The team that determines the programming for The Cleveland Orchestra deserves high praise for numerous reasons: First, they consistently craft programs that mix the old and the new, the familiar with the unfamiliar; second, many of the programs have a thematic strand tying the various works together; third, the selected works are often relevant beyond the musical sphere.  This is especially the case with this weekend’s concerts, which were devoted to a single work by Benjamin Britten, a pacifist: his War Requiem.  Even more interesting is that this program was decided over a year ago, long before the Trump administration launched its actions in Venezuela, the Caribbean, the Eastern Pacific, and most recently Iran.

Klaus Mäkelä, substituting for Daniel Harding, conducted the orchestra in a performance which also featured soprano Tamara Wilson, tenor Andrew Staples, baritone Ludwig Mittelhammer, The Cleveland Orchestra Chorus and The Cleveland Orchestra Children's Chorus.  I am unaware if Mäkelä has led this work before, but he conducted with surety and without micromanaging.  Pacing was ideal.  He knew when to hold the orchestra in check and when to loosen the reins.  The various sections of the orchestra, along with the vocal soloists and chorus, were well balanced.  The Children’s Chorus, placed off stage, produced an ethereal sonority.  The clear acoustics of Severance Hall made the diction in both Latin and English understandable – at least from my listening point midway back on the main floor.  Mäkelä and the orchestra remained frozen for a full minute after the work concluded and the audience remained silent – perhaps a moment of silence for those killed throughout mankind’s blood-stained history.

 

During this performance however, I found my thoughts turning not to the dead soldiers of the First or Second World Wars.  Instead, I thought of the many innocent civilians being killed in these and other conflicts.  Perhaps selfishly, my heart also turned to someone very important to me, who is currently serving in the United States military – a sensitive, intelligent young person who happens to like Classical music and has attended Cleveland Orchestra performances.  Fortunately, he’s nowhere near Iran – but that could change and he would be powerless to stop it.        

Shostakovich and Schubert at Severance

Guest conductor Santtu-Matias Rouvali, less than a year after a summer appearance here, returned to Severance Hall this weekend to lead the Cleveland Orchestra in contrasting works by Shostakovich and Schubert. 

Rouvali was joined by cellist Sol Gabetta for the concert’s opening work, Shostakovich’s Cello Concerto No. 2, Op. 126.  Although I know the composers more popular First Cello Concerto well, I was unfamiliar with this work until tonight’s concert.  Fortunately, I was joined by a cellist friend of mine who filled me in on the work’s structure and technical details.  One hears in the concerto’s opening movement the extreme turmoil that burdened Shostakovich as he had to balance his own desire for artistic expression with the practical necessity of avoiding running afoul of the Soviet music bureaucracy. The work has numerous arresting touches, including some inventive orchestration and a parody of a popular Russian song from the 1920s (Kupite bubliki/Buy bagels).  Gabetta conveyed every mood, including the sense of conflict between the soloist and orchestra – doubtless a reflection of the composer’s own conflicts.  Her performance was rapturously received, and she performed a fascinating encore which was a musical dialogue between herself and the orchestra’s percussionist, Mark Damoulakis. 

 

Following intermission Rouvali returned to lead a work that could hardly be more different from the Shostakovich: Schubert’s Symphony No. 9 in C major, D. 944.  This is one of my five favorite symphonies and one of the first I heard in its entirely thanks to a cassette tape my father gave to me when I was about thirteen (the Cleveland/Szell recording on Columbia).  Rouvali’s performance was close to ideal, with a conception that was thought out but not micromanaged, with tempi that were never dragged, with playing that was polished but not prissy, and the whole stripped of the phony Gemütlichkeit which has marred too many performances of this work.  Thankfully, Rouvali skipped the optional repeats except for the trio of the third movement.  The melodies floated over the accompaniment in a way that was, well, Schubertian.  The finale positively swung.  One could take issue with the exaggerated ritard the conductor introduced in the coda of the first movement (somewhat traditional in some circles but unspecified in the score) but this was a minor quibble.  This was a life-affirming “Great” C major, not proto-Mahler.

Fauré, Poulenc, Casella, and Debussy at Severance

Guest conductor Daniele Rustioni led this weekend’s Cleveland Orchestra concerts in a program of mostly French music.

The concert began with Gabriel Fauré’s Suite from Pelléas et Mélisande.  The opening Prélude unfolded with pastoral serenity, while the following Entr’acte benefitted from feather-light playing by the orchestra’s strings.  The most well-known movement, Sicilienne - used for years as the opening to our local Classical station’s late-night program – featured a gorgeous flute solo.

The next work was one of my favorite non-piano concertos, Poulenc’s Concerto for Organ, Strings, and Timpani, featuring soloist Paul Jacobs, a regular visitor here.  This performance was more than the evening’s highlight, it was simply the finest performance of this work I’ve ever heard – either in concert or on recordings.  Jacobs and Rustioni gave this concerto, which too often sounds sectionalized, a dramatic through-line which clarified the work’s structure without sacrificing the piece’s elan.  It was a performance which balanced the conflicting sides of Poulenc’s personality: his religious rectitude and his secular sensuality.  To say the performance was well received is an understatement.  In response to the sustained ovation, Jacobs made his way back to the organ, sat down, turned to face the audience, and asked “Do you like Bach?”  Some affirming applause led to an encore by J. S. Bach, but I couldn’t name the specific work.

I wish I could say the rest of the concert was on the same level but, alas, that was not the case.  Following intermission Rustioni returned to lead the orchestra in Italia by Alfredo Casella.  The work, from 1909, is a skillfully orchestrated patriotic pastiche of popular Italian tunes, including “Funiculi, Funiculà.”  On the ride home, Daniel commented that the opening sounded like film music to him, and I’d had the exact same thought – specifically the more bombastic work of Max Steiner.  The conductor and orchestra clearly enjoyed delivering this rarely heard piece, and the audience enjoyed hearing it.  I didn’t mind hearing it either – once.

The final work on the program was Debussy’s La Mer.  Well played as it was, this performance was missing what the Poulenc concerto had in abundance – a unified conception.  Instead, it was a series of episodes and garish colors.  Rustioni’s micromanaging of parts of the score (which the orchestra plays with some regularity and could probably perform in their sleep) was as unnecessary as the vocalizing he was heard offering several times tonight.  I generally don’t get caught up in conductor’s platform manners, but it was appropriate that his concert took place on Easter weekend, because Rustioni hopped around on the platform like a bunny rabbit.

Kidane, Bartók, Scriabin, and screaming at Severance

Elim Chan continued her two-week guest stint with The Cleveland Orchestra at Severance Hall with an engaging program of music from the 20^th and 21^st Centuries.

The concert began with Daniel Kldane’s Sun Poem, composed in 2022 and receiving its first Cleveland performances this weekend.  The work is symmetrically constructed, starting with muted trumpets, gradually joined by other instruments.  Parts of the work reminded me of the minimalism of John Adams, and it  seemed more focused on layering textures than thematic development.  The work ended quietly, much as it began.

Violinist Patricia Kopatchinskaja then strode onstage in bare feet, wearing a red outfit for Béla Bartók’s Violin Concerto No. 1 – composed in 1908 for a lover, but unpublished during his lifetime and unperformed until 1958, 14 years after the composer’s death.  I was unfamiliar with this concerto and surprised by the work’s blending of aching romanticism with modernity.  On a technical level, Kopatchinskaja played the work well.  She also put on a choreographic show that made Glenn Gould seem like a portrait of restrained normalcy.  I understand that certain mannerisms among performers can be unavoidable.  But this was pure circus act and drew attention to herself rather than the music.  Some in the audience responded positively to it, including a wannabe orator behind me whose eruptions reminded me of similar screaming I endured at a Ricky Martin concert in Las Vegas in 2017.  I wonder if he was a deranged groupie.  Kopatchinskaja played what she described as a “contemporary” work as an encore, which was a mix of catlike scratching on the instrument accompanied by grimaces and vocalizations from her.     

A sense of normalcy returned after intermission when Chan returned to lead Bartók’s  Dance Suite.  Fron 1923, this is a work of Bartók’s mature style: Modern yet not atonal.  Chan maintained perfect control over the rhythm, yet for all the propulsiveness in the work’s faster movements, the orchestra’s tone never became harsh, and the sections were all in balance.  This was about as suave as I’ve ever heard Bartók performed.

The final work was Scriabin’s Poem of Ecstasy, a work of mystical eroticism which provided an appropriate climax for the evening.  Chan’s interpretation was guts and glory, with no holding back – yet just when it seemed the potential of the orchestra was exhausted, they kept piling on more.  The last few minutes were a sustained musical orgasm.