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.  

Beethoven, Stravinsky, and Ravel with Santtu-Matias Rouvali at Severance

The Cleveland Orchestra’s Summers at Severance series continued with guest conductor Santtu-Matias Rouvali.  With the relatively young conductors guesting at Severance (Rouvali was born the year I graduated high school) one can’t help but wonder if these concerts are serving as quasi-auditions as the orchestra searches for a successor to music director Franz Welser-Möst, who steps down in two years.

Appropriately for a work composed as the 19^th Century dawned, Beethoven’s Symphony No. 2 in D major, Op. 36 looks slightly backward – but mostly forward, and marks the transition between that composer’s early and middle periods.  The work is shorter in length than most of his later symphonies, but it boasts a larger orchestra and discards the traditional minuet in favor of a more energetic scherzo.  As with Beethoven’s Third Piano Concerto, his Second Symphony’s opening movement is longer and more complex than was common at the time.  As a relatively forward-looking work, Vienna’s conservative critics were ready to pounce, one referring to the merry, vigorous finale as "a hideously writhing, wounded dragon that refuses to die, but writhing in its last agonies and, in the fourth movement, bleeding to death."  There was plenty of vigor and merriment in Rouvali’s way with the piece – I use the term “way” instead of interpretation deliberately.  It was a technically polished, surfacy rendition.  The Larghetto was a pretty chain of melody but was missing the depth one would hope for this movement – the tension leading to the minor section was all but missing.  Meanwhile, Rouvali seemed to enjoy putting on a show with numerous extraneous gestures that seemed geared for the audience more than for the orchestra’s – or the music’s – benefit.  That said, the playing had all the polish one usually expects with The Cleveland Orchestra – but how much of that belongs to the players and how much to the leader?

There is something appropriate about choosing this particular Beethoven symphony for the program, as both the third and fourth movements have a dancing quality, and the post intermission works originated as ballet music.

Stravinsky’s ballet score, Jeu de cartes (Game of Cards), comes from 1936 and is a product of the composer’s neoclassical period.  Each of the three “hands” starts with a fanfare: the cards being dealt to the players – invisible players because in the case of the ballet the cards have a life of their own.  Most prominent is the Joker whose motifs are capricious.  Rouvali was more convincing here – it was obvious he knew the score inside and out.  He kept things balanced and moving in an appropriately balletic fashion.

The evening’s final work, Ravel’s Suite No. 2 from “Daphnis et Chloé” is a piece I’ve come to love again and again.  It’s gorgeously orchestrated: in addition to the usual strings, winds and brass, Ravel includes the triangle, tambourine, castanets, glockenspiel, two harps, and celesta.  It goes beyond ballet into the realm of an orchestral tone poem, and Rouvali exploited the orchestra’s huge dynamic range – from the hushed woodwind pianissimos of the beginning to the full orchestra crescendo that followed.  Here, Rouvali was fully in his element, leading playing that included gorgeous splashes of color, perfectly timed rubatos, and fortissimos that were plenty loud but never harsh.  It was a stunning performance that rightly brought the audience to its feet. 

But as convincing as Rouvali was in the Stravinsky and Ravel, his Beethoven was wanting.  As versatile as our orchestra is, they built their reputation on the core classical repertoire of Mozart, Beethoven, Brahms, and Wagner – along with advocating for new music.  Based on the above and on what I heard last night, I don’t feel Rouvali is a match for Cleveland.

Wolfgang Mozart and Richard Strauss at Severance

The 2025 Summers at Severance series kicked off with guest conductor Marie Jacquot leading a program of Mozart and Richard Strauss.  It was a contrasting concert with both große kleine Kunst and kleine große Kunst.

The concert began with a brisk rendition of Mozart’s Overture to Don Giovanni, K. 527.  It’s interesting to me that such a consequential opera has such a brief overture – yet it beautifully encapsulates the whole work.  The performance was immaculate and slightly small scaled, as would have befitted an opera house orchestra from Mozart’s time.

Violinist Randall Goosby then joined conductor and orchestra for Mozart’s Violin Concerto No. 3 in G major, K. 216.  Goosby brought flawless technique, a sweetly vocal tone, and a welcome avoidance of HiP mannerisms to his performance.  The second movement in particularly flowed beautifully – “like oil,” as Mozart frequently wrote in his letters to his father.  It was interesting to note that the work doesn’t end with a bang like so many of Mozart’s concertos, but rather disappears wittily.  Goosby’s and the orchestra’s performance were warmly received, and the soloist played a gorgeous encore: Louisiana Blues by Coleridge-Taylor Perkinson.

Both the Mozart works were relatively brief, an example of große kleine Kunst – i.e., great art in small form.  I’d never heard Richard Strauss’s Symphony in F minor previous to tonight – indeed, this is the first time the Cleveland Orchestra has presented the 1884 work.  Think of that: the work was premiered the year Harry S. Truman was born – and not heard locally until last night.  The Symphony, at 45 minutes long, is a textbook example of kleine große Kunst – a large work of art with relatively small merit.  I don’t mean to imply that the work is of zero merit, but it barely hints at the greatness that lay in Strauss’s future.  One hears influences by Schumann and Brahms in the work, without the conciseness of form that the latter brought to his symphonies.  There are themes aplenty, but they are not very well developed.  On the other hand, the symphony demonstrates Strauss’ mastery of orchestration.  Still, it’s an impressive piece for a barely 20-year-old composer which hints at far greater things to come.  But in the end, the symphonic whole amounted to less than the sum of its four movements.  Jacuot, a gifted conductor, made as persuasive a case for the work as anyone could.  Whatever the work’s shortcomings, I hope Cleveland audiences won’t have to wait until 2166 to hear it again.

The house was well filled with an attentive mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces, with applause between each of the movements of the concerto and the symphony.

Independence Day and the prison of Provincialism

As I’ve stated in previous posts, Independence Day means more to me than the founding of the United States.  It represents the adoption of a philosophy which ought to be reexamined from time to time.  While many Americans will be grilling hot dogs and burgers, waving flags, and setting off amateur fireworks this weekend, how many have actually read the full text of Declaration of Independence?  I have, and it makes for good reading – especially today, when so many of our rights are under attack. 

Take for example, this complaint aimed at the British Monarch, George III:  

“He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.” 

Is what George III did all that different from what has been happening across the country since 2017, where polling sites are being shuttered in minority areas and mail-in ballot options are being restricted – thus suppressing voter turnout in those areas?

Or this concern:

“He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.”

In other words, George III was placing restrictions on immigration.  Sound familiar?

There are other concerns voiced in the Declaration which presage today’s concerns, from restricting trade to quartering armed troops in cities.  I’m tempted to opine that the dude would have loved Trump and his minions.  George III, a weak monarch who was doing as his ministers advised, did these things because he was led to believe that they would intimidate the disobedient colonists from acting out further.  George and his ministers miscalculated. 

While few Americans will have read the passages above – much less understood how they relate to today’s political struggles, many will spout the most ridiculous nonsense without a trace of irony.  And many who disagree with them will remain silent for fear of causing offense.  Part of this is because the notion of objective truth has been under attack, and I feel it is not exaggeration to state that truth is in danger of dying altogether – killed by bias, driven by social media.

Today, social media locks people into their own biases and prejudices.  This is by design, because those who have monetized social media have learned that engagement is driven by calculated outrage and confirmation bias.  What is confirmation bias?  An example: someone uses a search engine to research a topic – for example, conspiracy theories about vaccines, the moon landing, or 9/11 – and finds an article or a YouTube video which agrees with their viewpoint.  In other words, they locate something that confirms their bias.  They click on the link, which becomes part of their history – which the algorithm perpetuates by sending similar links their way.  In essence, without even knowing it, users close their own minds. 

As demonstrated in Yuval Noah Harari’s erudite book Nexus : A Brief History of Information Networks from the Stone Age to AI, the tendency toward confirmation bias in social media, where disinformation is equated with truth, can have catastrophic results.  Both Facebook and YouTube played a significant role in worsening the Rohingya Genocide.  It’s not as if those who programmed these social media tools deliberately set out to kill human beings, but the algorithm programed into them prioritized engagement over human wellbeing.  For “engagement” means money.

Despite waxing and waning content moderation, the trend continues to this day – as demonstrated by the increasing toxicity of most prominent social media platforms. Confirmation bias is taken to its furthest degree in Donald Trump’s ironically named app, Truth Social – which, despite its all-American chest thumping, was financed by Chinese and Russian interests.

This phenomenon is not unique to the United States.  It has been observed in the United Kingdom, Brazil, and Argentina as well – where manipulation of social media enabled unqualified political candidates who would not been elected dog catcher 20 years ago to obtain leadership positions. 

Confirmation bias dates back to long before social media.  It was most prevalent in what has been known as the ghetto.  Understand that when I use the term “ghetto,” I don’t mean in the modern American sense – which generally refers to a lower income African-American neighborhood – but in the classic sense, which refers to an insular, ethnically/religiously homogenous area.  For centuries, these places were necessary for simple survival.  That is no longer the case except in the most backward parts of the world.

For a brief period, I lived in a “gayborhood” in suburban Boston, Massachusetts.  As a young gay man establishing his identity, it had its advantages.  But eventually the conversations became repetitive and tiresome: which guy from the gym might be gay, who had the best body or attribute, and Madonna – lots of Madonna.  It all became a bit stultifying, like living in an echo chamber.  I had forgotten my annoyance with the paradigm until my husband Daniel and I spent some time in one such neighborhood a few years ago: Wilton Manors.  I found it depressing.  From what I’ve heard from others who lived in similarly homogenous places, my experience was far from unique.  Daniel and I now live in a very diverse suburb to the east of Cleveland now, and while I was happy to see three rainbow flags on my block this past month, I’m equally glad to live in a mixed community with people of all colors, creeds, orientations, and identities.  Variety is the spice of life.

Whether they are referred to as ghettos, shtetls, Ummahs, gayborhoods, or whatever, closed communities lead to closed minds. Social media has similarly placed users into “thought ghettos,” where Provincialism reigns.  Provincialism, sometimes also called “Parochialism,” is the enemy of freedom of thought – a liberty which is in danger.  It’s worth noting that in George Orwell’s 1984, people are prosecuted for “thought crimes.”  With many exploring their hidden desires and dispositions on apps and the frequent breaches of personal data, the notion of “thought police” is not as fanciful as it seemed in 1948.

I certainly understand having to navigate diverse viewpoints and complex conversations.  I am a registered Democrat who comes from what was once a solidly Republican family.  Both my parents and all of my grandparents were Republicans, and my great grandfather was a Republican member of the Michigan state legislature.  I am the only LGBTQ person in my immediate family.  My closest living gay biological relative is a second cousin who I haven’t seen in 35 years.  Recently I met up with my father’s sole remaining sibling, who is 89 years old.  During a wide ranging conversation, he related to me that he had been a Republican all his life but has never voted for Donald Trump.  He either voted Democrat those years or stayed at home.  While he still believes in the conservative philosophy as espoused by President Eisenhower, he laments the lack of bipartisanship.  I found my uncle’s perspective intriguing as it echoed something my father told me in March of 2016, just a few weeks before his death.  Additionally, my maternal grandmother began to align with the Democrats in her old age – she was appalled at the GOP’s cutting of social services and the hypocrisy of Newt Gingrich and other adulterous Republicans persecuting Bill Clinton over his sexual peccadillos.  While I have long supported the liberal economic philosophy as espoused by Franklin Roosevelt and Harry Truman (who were so far to the left economically that their policies would be aligned with Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez today), along with social policies that were not conceivable during the New Deal (like marriage equality), I also regret the lack of across the aisle communication.  But let’s not kid ourselves: It’s not Democrats who have steamrolled their agenda by firing senior ranked military personnel, firing Judge Advocates General, and crippling government agencies they don’t like.    

The America that used to exist, where leaders of diverse viewpoints talked to each other, made deals, even engaged in a little horse-trading, needs to reemerge.  Compromise may be a dirty word to some.  But it is what allowed us to beat fascism abroad, land a man on the moon (yes, that really happened), and win the Cold War.  The loss of the ability to compromise has led to the credible threat of fascism at home, crippled our scientific and space programs, and helped a resurgent, imperialist Russia gain a foothold in Eastern Europe.

In the end, it may be that the Revolutionary War was for naught – a 250-year experiment that ultimately failed. 

So, on this 4^th of July, let us declare our independence from the prisons of closed-mindedness and from provincialism in all its forms.

And read the Declaration of Independence.

Spanish Fantasy

 I draw inspiration for my compositions from people, places, and emotions.

  

Janáček’s opera Jenůfa, at Severance

Daniel and I made our way to Severance Hall to see the culmination of The Cleveland Orchestra’s season, a concert presentation of Leoš Janáček’s searing opera, Jenůfa.  The opera is the primary event of the 2025 Mandel Opera & Humanities Festival, which focuses on the theme of reconciliation.

The opera’s story is grim.  Jenůfa wants to marry a man named Števa. Jenůfa’s stepmother declares that Števa may only marry Jenůfa if he refrains from drinking for a year.  Števa  leaves town to serve in the military and returns to drunkenly boast of his conquests of numerous women.  Meanwhile, another man, Laca – who happens to be Števa’s half-brother – pursues Jenůfa and, when she rebuffs him and tolerates Števa’s shenanigans, Laca slashes her face with a knife.  Unbeknownst to everyone is that Jenůfa is pregnant with Števa’s child.  After the child is born, the stepmother worries that Jenůfa will never be able to endure the humiliation of being a scarred, unwed-mother in their provincial town, so she commits infanticide, hiding the baby’s body under some ice in the nearby mill-stream.  Eventually, Laca is able to gain Jenůfa’s hand in marriage.  But the wedding is interrupted when the baby’s body is found and the stepmother is arrested.  As the authorities haul her away, Jenůfa sings of her forgiveness of the stepmother, because she meant well.      

I have to say, anyone who murdered my child, even under the best of circumstances, would be unable to earn my forgiveness – regardless of the prison sentence.  But this is opera, not real life.  

On purely musical terms, Jenůfa was very well presented.  Franz Welser-Möst is a master at pacing opera presentations, and he kept the action moving while allowing the singers freedom of phrasing.  In particular, Latonia Moore as Jenůfa and Nina Stemme as the stepmother not only sang extraordinarily well, but presented their characters with a richness that were noteworthy for a non-staged presentation.  That’s right, Jenůfa was given what they call a concert presentation – no sets, no costumes.  Instead, the singers were placed on a raised platform, which I suspect was done for reasons of vocal projection. 

And here we come to my problem with this performance: There was no reason not to stage this opera, just as there was no reason to avoid staging Tristan und Isolde two years ago.  Let’s not kid ourselves.  The Cleveland Orchestra is not lacking for money.  They received a $50 million grant from the Mandel Foundation several years ago, and donations from individuals and corporations continue to pour in.  In his essay included in the Festival’s rather lavish booklet, Welser-Möst refers to the success of The Cunning Little Vixen in 2014; so extraordinarily well received that the orchestra decided to present it again three years later.  But one of the reasons Vixen was so popular was precisely because of the staging.  While an elaborate staging like those done for Vixen and Pelléas and Mélisande would have been ideal, even a modest staging would be preferable to having the cast stand around on an elevated platform and sing from the score.  While the performance was very well received by the audience, I must point out that I have never seen so many empty seats at an opera presentation at Severance.

 

As noted above, the theme of this year’s festival is reconciliation.  Other events include a presentation of African-American art, a performance of Latin music by Chucho Valdés and his Royal Quartet, pianist Michelle Cann performing music from Chicago’s Black Renaissance, a Symposium on immigration & reconciliation, and a screening of The Royal Tenenbaums.  In an age when the United States in particular is becoming more economically segregated, when people are being marginalized, it is heartening to see a festival from a Classical music entity whose audiences are still overwhelmingly white and older. 

True reconciliation can only exist if there is justice.  An historical example from American history is Reconstruction, which was botched by Andrew Johnson and his successors.  The primary instigators of the American Civil War, including Jefferson Davis and other secessionists, never had to pay for the consequences of their actions.  Thus Jim Crow, the segregation of everything from the use of public facilities to miscegenation laws, and denying African-Americans the right to vote were allowed to fester for a century.  Even six decades after passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, disparities remain – particularly with regard to income. 

80 years later after the American Civil War, the United States had another decision to make: What to do with West Germany after Hitler’s defeat.  The destruction in Germany was worse than that in the American South by orders of magnitude.  Denazification was no easy task.  Hitler’s government had not only launched the worst European conflagration in human history, it ruthlessly butchered large swaths of its own population, including Jews, Roma, Homosexuals, political opponents, and those with disabilities.  The Holocaust was planned by the Nazi elite, but ordinary Germans helped carry it out – and many more looked away, refusing to see what was clearly visible.  After the war Nazi leadership was put on trial, with many being executed.  Other Germans, from the prominent to the ordinary, faced time in jail and suspension of their careers.  Numerous lower-level figures were allowed to get on with their lives.  But everyone was made to understand, if not accept, that Germany had lit the flame that set Europe on fire, how Nationalism and bigotry struck the match, and how ordinary Germans allowed it to happen.  Teaching about the Holocaust became part of the required school curriculum and the display of Nazi symbols remains illegal in the reunified Germany.  Denazification was not perfectly carried out – but at least it was a sincere effort to address some wrongs – something which was not even attempted after 1865.  In the United States today, Confederate flags fly even in states which did not secede from the Union or allow slavery.  As someone descended from members of the Union Army and Navy, including one who died at Gettysburg, I remain highly troubled by this.  I have concluded that one of the great tragedies of our American history is that "deconfederatization" never took place in the Old South.

    

No justice, no peace.

Know justice, know peace.