Archive for the ‘Cleveland Concerts’ Category

Back to Severance After Three Years

Friday, January 6th, 2023

In February 2020, I went to see the Cleveland Orchestra at Severance Hall. I expected to go again in May 2020, but we know what happened there.

Somehow, I skipped the 2020-2021 and 2021-2022 seasons completely, making me officially out of the habit. The first year was certainly out of good sense: I wasn’t eligible for a COVID vaccine until mid-2021, and wasn’t really teaching much in person until Fall 2021: I’m still not back in the classroom as much as I was in Fall 2019, and wouldn’t be surprised if I never am. As well, Becky has been back at work, and scheduling a concert for just myself has been tricky: we don’t refer to taking care of our own kids as “babysitting,” but solo parenting for optional reasons is not something we like to stick each other with if we don’t have to.

The kids and I drove all the way to Cincinnati in June to hear the Cincinnati Symphony perform my Florence Price arrangement, but otherwise, I haven’t been to many things that I wasn’t specifically involved in putting on.

So, last night, I ended the drought, and went to hear the Cleveland Orchestra perform works by James Oliverio, Haydn, and Nielsen, under the baton of Alan Gilbert. Here’s the program.

Gilbert has been on my list of conductors to see since he took over the New York Philharmonic in 2009. My impression last night was that he is certainly charming and personable, with real “music director” energy that seems to invite musicians and audiences to trust him. His approach to the last movement of Haydn’s Symphony No. 90, with its multiple false endings, had the audience in more laughter than I think I’ve ever heard at a symphony concert, and he successfully enlisted new concertmaster David Radzynski as accomplice (this was also my first chance to see Radzynski, whose father was on my doctoral committee, in action in the front chair). Coming from the band world, I think I tend to appreciate economy of gesture in a conductor, and this was a part of Gilbert’s approach in a way, but I don’t think in a useful way. The danger with a group such as Cleveland is that they will play the conductor, and I’m not convinced this wasn’t evident last night. I really only noticed one sort of beat from the right hand, which I would characterize as overly staccato, and the left hand seemed to mirror much of the time. Gilbert prefers a grip on the baton that I would find awkward, pointing and jabbing rather than amplifying and clarifying. The “gravitational” beat that I consider to be crucial was lost–and in one of the hammerblows that begin the Nielsen Third Symphony, the result was sloppiness of ensemble rare among Cleveland Orchestra performances.

I met James Oliverio once in graduate school when he came to Columbus for a performance of his first timpani concerto: it must have been 2005 or 2006. I don’t remember going to the performance, only being present for his masterclass, but I remember his affable, easygoing manner, shooting straight with young composers and percussionists, and it doesn’t surprise me at all that he now holds an academic position. That good-naturedness was on full display in the pre-concert talk in an interview by Dr. Emily Laurance. It was also present in Oliverio’s new timpani concerto, Legacy Ascendant, with the solo part taken by Cleveland Orchestra principal timpanist Paul Yancich. Oliverio and Yancich have a decades-long collaboration stemming from their student years at the Cleveland Institute of Music.

Legacy Ascendant is a work with a fair amount of heft, and solves the problem of how to make a concerto for timpani in interesting ways. Yancich’s ability to retune the drums (seven of them) between strokes is impressive, and his phrasing allows the instrument to sing, despite the same problems that the piano or the guitar have with the sustain that we expect from a truly lyrical line. One method Oliverio uses for this is to use the cello and bass sections as resonators that hold a note after the timpanist plays it: this works well in slow-to-medium tempo passages, but he wisely avoids it for faster notes. I didn’t feel enough contrast between the three movements, and the promised “groove” in the last movement never seemed to materialize.

The Haydn, and Gilbert’s approach to it, were a pleasant surprise, and the core members of the orchestra played spectacularly in a piece the orchestra last played in 1967. I don’t generally seek out performances of the Classical repertoire when I select Cleveland Orchestra concerts, but I’m always impressed with the results when I happen to hear them.

The main event (at least to me) was Nielsen’s Third Symphony. I discovered this piece on CD in the summer of 1996, when I spent a lot of time listening through my collection, which by that point included Neeme Jarvi’s recording of Nielsen’s symphonies with Gothenberg. I was especially charmed by the Third, with its opening movement, and got as far as checking out the score from the CCM library, where I discovered to my delight that Nielsen indicated that the baritone solo could be performed on trombone and the soprano solo on clarinet (I have to wonder if the piece has ever actually been performed this way). In relistening to the piece and studying the score over the last couple of days, I hear the musical challenges: the long-breathed formal sections, the orchestration that is sometimes too heavy, and a certain harmonic ambiguity. But: it has been a piece I’ve wanted to hear in person for a long time, so I bookmarked this concert.

Gilbert and the Orchestra returned a very solid performance (despite a mishap here and there). The piece rewards the kind of ensemble playing that the Cleveland Orchestra makes a specialty of, while also giving ample opportunities to the principal players. As much as I’ve always loved the first movement, it was the third movement that really shone last night. It’s not quite a scherzo, and Dr. Laurence suggested similarities to Shostakovich, which may be a little premature, but I certainly hear Janacek and Bartok waiting in the wings. A great night for flutist Jessica Sindell, filling in the principal chair.

I’m on the lookout for a concert that will feature recently-appointed principal trombonist Brian Wendel. Of course, Ravel’s Bolero is coming up next month, but as important as that solo is for trombonists, it’s one among the crowd in the work itself. Mozart’s Requiem is on the way, but it’s solo is in the second trombone part, so I wouldn’t expect the principal to play it.

Severance Hall seems to be back to its old self. One disappointment is that, while the autograph manuscript of Mahler’s Second Symphony is on display, it is largely obscured within a box that projects video in front of it, which is somewhat confusing. Last night it was open to a page from the Scherzo with no explanation.

Tags:, , , , ,
Posted in Cleveland Concerts | Comments Closed

Not Dead from COVID-19 Yet

Friday, July 3rd, 2020

My last post was in November 2019, and what a half-year it has been.

Much of my life so far has been untouched by history. Plenty of history has happened since 1976, of course, but the great events have almost never caused any real disruption. 1989 happened somewhere else, to older people. 2001 was a shock, and horrific, but it, and the wars that followed, happened mostly to other people. 2008 may have caused Becky and I to stay longer in Oklahoma than we had planned, but then again, it may not have, and my career has not significantly suffered.

COVID-19, however, has touched us. Luckily, we have not contracted the disease, although that remains a possibility. Early on, I told myself that our family would be lucky to come through this without that happening, and while survival rates seem high, the risk that I will lose a family member to this, or die of it myself, is not zero.

It began at the end of last year, when I began to hear the news stories on the radio about the new virus in Wuhan, China. I remember in particular one day listening to it in the car while getting the kids from school. Donald Trump’s impeachment trial was happening at the same time, of course, and that failed attempt was a bigger story at the moment. The holidays happened more or less normally, although it was Becky’s first year since we’ve been married working retail, but at some point one of my contacts on Twitter whose husband is an epidemiologist posted a thread about just how serious COVID seemed to be, and I got to thinking. This would have been by about February or so.

I’ve read about epidemics and pandemics. In college, I read Laurie Garrett’s The Coming Plague, and discussed it at dinner with friends, horrifying my girlfriend, but fascinating at least one other person at the table. I read Anthony Fauci’s book a year or so ago. I watched Ebola unfold in 2014, and breathed a sigh of relief that it stayed far away from us. COVID-19 seemed to be unfolding the same way as SARS or MERS–new, but containable. But I still kept my ear to the ground.

My parents went to Hawaii around Valentines Day, just as the first cases were started to happen in this country. They were able to return with no problem, but soon others would not. At the grocery store, I began to put a little extra in the cart every week. Our finances allowed it easily, and my contact on Twitter suggested that this would be an effective measure: buy a little bit now without stressing the system, and avoid some of the panic buying that might happen when the system started to come under stress. Pasta. Pizza supplies. Breakfast and lunch. Over-the-counter medications that we use regularly. Cleaning supplies. And toilet paper. We still are ahead on toilet paper, and never really got behind, because I bought a package a week for most of February, and have kept our supply at about a hundred rolls on hand since then. All things that would keep and that we would use anyway, so it wasn’t really an extra expense, just money that we would spend now and not later.

I continued to teach my classes as normal, and rehearse the orchestra, up until Spring Break. Sunday, March 8 was our first concert of 2020, and it went well. We collected music as usual and planned to see each other after break. I had performances of my music on February 6 and March 1, with several more slated for the spring.

Spring Break proceeded apace. As usual, my break was not at the same time as Noah’s and Melia’s, which meant some quiet time at home and some couples time with Becky. Meanwhile, more people were getting sick, and things were starting to change.

March 11, the day that I’m told is the day that most Americans started to be impacted, was the day that I had agreed to judge the annual student concerto competition at Mentor High School. The orchestra director, Matt Yoke, ran the competition, and as usual, my co-judge was Terri Herschmann, retired choir director. I waited in the car for a few minutes, listening to what had become Ohio Governor Mike DeWine’s daily press briefing on COVID-19, but went into the school before it was over. By the time we were done judging, he had made the announcement that Ohio public schools would be closing for three weeks, starting the following Monday. Matt, Terri, and I weren’t sure what this meant–we thought that it might mean that our judging would be for nought, since it would limit the time the orchestra would have to rehearse the winners’ pieces. The closure included my job at Lakeland, so child care would not be a problem for us the way it has been for so many other people. Noah and Melia would have a week of online classes–hastily thrown together–then a week of their Spring Break, and then would finish online. Lakeland extended its Spring Break by a week so that instructors could prepare to finish the term as best we could completely online.

That night, Becky and I decided that I should go to the grocery store for a few extra things. I decided to use the Giant Eagle in Willoughby, since it is a larger store than the one here in Willowick, and a trip to the local Wal-Mart seemed like insanity–I still haven’t been back to Wal-Mart, where we were shopping regularly until March. The American supermarket is designed to suggest plenty and abundance, and that night it was clear just how worried people were, as key items were out. Toilet paper, of course. Eggs were nearly gone. Bottled water was cleared from the shelves, but I noticed two large pallets of it when I finally got to the check-out. What I remember most was the line: the store was packed, and I waited for over an hour, during which time I called my parents and told them that they shouldn’t worry about trying to come for my birthday that weekend as we had planned. Prices were normal, and most customers seemed frazzled, but not agitated to the point of making themselves worrisome. My cashier was a young woman who had come to work from school, and it was about 9pm by the time she rang me up. I thanked her for being there, and told her I hoped she was able to go home soon.

The next two days I wrapped up a few loose ends, trying to get ready for what might come next. I made sure that my second term class was ready to start, knowing that it would begin on time on March 14, so that I would have time to figure something out for my formerly-in-person classes. I voted early at the county board of elections for the Ohio primary on March 17 (which was eventually postponed), but I wanted to make sure that I voted for our local school levy. In general, there was the feeling of deliberateness and urgency to get things done, but also a calm-before-the-storm sense. The Board of Elections was a busy place, but no busier than I would expect on an early-voting day. On March 14, we had my birthday dinner, and I chose Mexican food. The restaurant was fairly empty for a Saturday night, and I spent a few weeks feeling bad that I picked it, since I’m the only one who really likes it, and it was our last meal out for quite some time.

Becky worked for the first couple of weeks that the kids and I were off, and then Ulta closed, and for several weeks, we saw only each other and the essential workers with whom we came into contact. We have been very fortunate so far that our finances have been unimpacted. We were able to save most of our income tax refund, as well as our stimulus check, and although it’s possible we will still need that money, our bank account is currently more flush than it has ever been.

We worked together to help Noah and Melia complete their schoolwork, with Becky and I tag-teaming the kids once she was home. The three of us all had to complete work with just one computer, although not everything the kids needed to do was online, as their teachers had sent math books and other materials home. I would put in about 2 hours a day on my online work, which I kept to a relative minimum, thinking that my students were mostly taking my course to fulfill a general education requirement, and certainly had other priorities. In the end, I didn’t fail many students: certainly not more than I would have in a typical semester, even with some students being unable to re-engage with the newly-online courses. I was very lenient, and if someone was passing before Spring Break, I tried to give them a passing grade for the term. After my work, we would begin on the kids’ work for the day. This would extend well into the afternoon at first, but once Becky was home, it would take much longer. We had a disused tablet that we found would work to access much of the kids’ work, which also helped, although the result is that Melia has claimed it for herself and become a tablet junkie, something we tried to avoid for a long time.

Online schooling was not ideal, by any sense, but it also showed just how much of the school day is used for non-instructional time, and how much more quickly learning can happen individually. It also showed me where some deficiencies lay. Noah was behind in math, and, to my thinking, at risk of falling further back, and so this summer we have embarked on a review of fourth-grade math. Piano and trombone lessons also moved online. Noah’s teacher continued to work with him, although the process was frustrating for him. I stayed in the room for lessons to act as a tech person–I used binder clips to attach my phone to the music stand to get the right angle, and we used the now-ubiquitous Zoom app for both piano and trombone with a degree of success. Mrs. Rita (Cyvas-Kliorys) even arranged for a virtual recital at the end of the term, but she has now taken the summer off–it must have been exhausting with a studio her size.

For the seven weeks that Becky was completely off from Ulta, we stayed home almost all the time. I took the kids outside every day for at least an hour, and within a week or so, the weather was pleasant enough to ride bicycles (although occasionally with winter coats on). Melia had not mastered her two-wheeler by the end of last summer, but this spring she was ready, and has taken to it. The three of us have gone on two extended bike rides of about eight miles. The Richland County B&O Trail, the Ohio & Erie Towpath Trail, and the Cleveland Metroparks have all been destination rides, but we’ve also been around much of the neighborhood. We’re now at a point where the kids are a little more resistant to the bike riding, but I tell them that their father needs to do it, and we go all the same, and after a few hundred yards, they are all in.

I planned three meals a day at home, with a once-a-week carry-out or drive-thru meal. I suffered “breakfast for dinner,” which isn’t my favorite M.O., but is beloved of our kids, and we invented the “smorgasbord” dinner of popcorn, pepperoni, cheese, fruit, and hummus that has become a favorite for Melia. We instituted a nightly movie night for much of the lockdown, with most movies taking two nights. With Becky back at work from early May, we’ve gotten out of this habit, with later dinners. I got out of the habit of reading to the kids every night, but last week picked up a copy of The Hobbit with a gift card I received for Father’s Day, and we’ve started it back up.

My reading has been way off pace. Too much time on Twitter, perhaps, but also missing the three or four karate classes, dance class, and piano lesson, and Cub Scout meeting each week where I can sit and read while the kids do their thing. By the end of June, I had read only 20 books, 6 off my book-a-week goal. I have also been studying German through the DuoLingo app, and am almost through that course, so there is reading time lost as well.

Cub Scouts ended after a socially-distanced Pinewood Derby on March 15. Noah’s den leaders were phoning it in this year at any rate, and I haven’t heard from them at all. Summer camp was cancelled, a real disappointment to Noah, and by extension, for us–last year’s camp was one of the great experiences of his life so far.

I made the decision to prioritize sleep and limit my computer time, so while I had started sketching a brass fanfare commissioned by the Ohio Valley Majestic Brass in the days before the lockdown, I put my composing aside until the end of the school year. I had been in a slump since stalling out on my symphony at any rate, and some time away made sense. Since May, I have been back at it, and I completed the fanfare and received payment for it last week. I’m also most of the way through a short suite for the local Ekklesia Reed Quintet, called Mind, Body, and Soul. After that, I’ve promised a big band chart to Ed Michaels for next season, and then, I suppose, there will be the symphony. I haven’t opened those files since November.

Several performances of my work had to be cancelled. The Cleveland Chamber Symphony had been slated to play a new chamber orchestra version of Martian Dances in April, and the Lakeland Civic Band was scheduled for a second performance of Mysterious Marvels on my birthday, but the concert was cancelled. Lady Glides on the Moon was down for two performances in Illinois this spring, but I haven’t heard anything about them since, and the Cleveland Composers Guild has morphed this year’s Junior Concert into an online presentation, which will, at least, include a short piece I’ve written for guitar. In mid-March, when it became clear that we were cancelling our remaining three concerts for the season, I began sending out a “piece of the day” for the Composers Guild, sending music by our members to the membership and posting to social media. This has been popular among our membership, and a great opportunity for me to get to know the work of my colleagues, and to just stay connected to the composing world. I’ve had ideas about what I might do in the way of collaborations or getting work out there, but it just hasn’t happened yet. I would love to make videos of Twenty Views of the Trombone, for instance, but I just don’t have the right equipment. I tried to record and video a part for a band piece by a student composer I know on Twitter, but I’m not completely sure that I was able to create something usable.

I haven’t heard any live music since those auditions at Mentor High School, other than Noah’s and my practicing. I had one concert remaining on my Cleveland Orchestra subscription, and of course ended up donating my ticket. It will be good to get back to that.

Noah and I were planning a trip to Germany in April to spend ten days with my brother and his family. I hadn’t been there since 2001, and Noah had never been at all. That trip was in the works for months–we had our passports and flights booked, of course, and it would have been an exquisite experience that I was very excited to give my son.  We had planned our spring around it, and even bought new luggage, and it still stings every time I think about it. One result, though, is that Nate and I have done a better job being in touch.

Since Christmas, we’ve only seen my parents one time–to meet in a Wendy’s parking lot and have lunch in separate cars on Mother’s Day. Since then, we’ve seen my in-laws several times, but my parents have decided to stay locked down as much as possible, and declined to meet us on Father’s Day. Hopefully, this will mean many more opportunities to see them when this is all over.

I feel like I’ve handled things remarkably well, given that all of this started during my annual winter slump. It has forced me to focus on practicalities and on taking care of my family, and myself. My diet has never been great, but I haven’t succumbed to the temptation to eat nothing but junk food, although our ice cream consumption is up, and for the first couple of weeks, I was buying Easter chocolate like mad. The regular outdoors time has been good for the kids and me, and we mostly get along. I thrive on routine, so a daily shower, exercise, work and artistic goals have all been critical.

That said, I am nervous about the future. We are in contract negotiations, and I don’t think that will be good news, as college enrollment is down for the fall. I scheduled my usual in-person classes as hybrid in-person/online, and they are not filling, meaning that I will likely end up taking from adjuncts to make load, my nightmare scenario, and a particularly bleak prospect that it would pain me to inflict on people I consider my colleagues and friends at a time when it will be difficult for them to find other work in the field. Yesterday came the announcement that K-12 schools will reopen with in-person instruction in the fall, and this makes me nervous, amidst the current surge in cases of COVID-19 and with no news of a vaccine. Tonight, Melia woke me up at 4am having had a nightmare, and after I put her back to bed, I was unable to get back to sleep myself: once the birds started chirping, I decided to come write this post, which I’ve been meaning to do. My first truly sleepless night of this era, and really, in a long time.

Becky’s long-running insomnia continues, although she seems to be sleeping better for having to go to work. She injured her shoulder, and has an arthroscopy scheduled for later this month, but meanwhile is in even more pain than usual. I have been giving her at least one massage a day for years now.

Noah goes through times when he is anxious, restless, and discontented with the state of affairs. He is resourceful, though, and has found ways to occupy himself. He has built a large layout of Legos based on the Normandy beach of the D-Day invasion, and has been studying World War 2 to try to make it realistic, inspired by a stop-motion animation that he found on YouTube. Melia has been reporting chronic stomach pain, and has a doctor’s visit scheduled. The kids have become closer, and somewhat more self-reliant, as I typically leave them to their own devices after breakfast while I work for an hour or two. A year ago, they would have required much more direct supervision, and I would have had to be scrupulous about waking up early to work before breakfast–today is an anomaly.

We press on then, and for all my apocalyptic visions of a pandemic, fueled by books and movies, history’s touch on our has been relatively light thus far, and for that I am thankful. I am planning to ramp up my grocery spending again, as our March stockpile is looking a little depleted, and cases are on the rise again. The Germany trip is postponed indefinitely, as is the vacation to South Carolina we had planned. School will resume in some fashion, as will musical life, and I can only hope that we are lucky to be observers of the worst.

Posted in Cleveland Concerts, Composing, Personal Reflections | Comments Closed

A Week of Music

Friday, October 18th, 2019

A quick post so that I can get back to the major project in which I have been immersed.

It has been a busy week for my music and for my experience of music.

A week ago, I awoke in Mattoon, Illinois so that I could drive up the road to Eastern Illinois University for my first Society of Composers conference in five years. I haven’t deliberately stayed away, but timing and location have conspired against me. I was able to enjoy five of the eight concerts, including performances of Daniel Perttu’s preludes for piano, my own Maximum Impact for jazz ensemble, and Kevin Wilson’s cello sonata. My personal highlight of the conference was James Romig’s Still. This hour-long solo piano work, with a very low density of notes, might have lulled me to sleep after a long weekend of driving and conferencing, but quite the opposite–I found the work intriguing and invigorating. The other highlight was getting to spend time with Becky, especially on Friday evening, when we reconnected with Dan Perttu and Magie Smith, who is professor of clarinet at EIU. It was practically a grad school reunion.

We left the conference early so that we could drive back on Saturday because on Sunday, I needed to attend the first Cleveland Composers Guild concert of the season at Cleveland State University. I can’t remember a stronger program, in no small part because of the performers, including Peter Otto and Randy Fusco playing Margi Griebling-Haigh’s Rhapsody and the Cavani Quartet playing Sebastian Birch’s Life in a Day. But of all eight pieces, there were really no duds. The premiere of my song And I Live With the Fiction that I Never Get Mad by Loren Reash-Henz and Ben Malkevitch went off very well, and the lyricist, Janice Reash, was in the audience and quite impressed. I wasn’t quite sure that I liked the piece until I was able to hear a performance of it, and I believe that I will keep it in my catalog, because it really does work well.

An embarrassment of riches, this week, really. Last night I went to hear the Cleveland Orchestra for the second time this season. The “build your own” subscription allowed me to pick exactly the music that I wanted to hear, and I was excited to hear Louis Andriessen’s newish work Agamemnon. Life intervened: conductor Jaap van Zweden was called to his family, and the replacement conductor, Klaus Mäkelä, was presumably unfamiliar with a work premiered by van Zweden. This was disappointing, but I determined that whatever music the orchestra would play would be excellent, and decided to not feel short-changed.

I was not wrong. A lesser orchestra would have thrown a familiar piece onto the program: a Brahms overture or the like, but we were given instead a reasonable replacement: Olivier Messiaen’s little-heard Les Offrandes oubliées. This early work was a revelation–especially the ending, which was reminiscent of Holst’s Neptune. Violinist Augustin Hadelich played Prokovief’s second violin concerto beautifully, although that work is not one of my favorites–there remain only a few violin concerti that really connect with me after all these years. After intermission, Mäkelä’s rendition of Beethoven’s Seventh was splendid: full of the life and vigor central to that work. I hope that he will be engaged again.

Tags:, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Posted in Cleveland Concerts, Composing, Personal Reflections, Travels | Comments Closed

Cleveland Orchestra Plays Neuwirth and Mahler

Friday, September 27th, 2019

Last night, September 26, 2019, I returned to the Cleveland Orchestra for the first time in the 2019-2020 season. After the orchestra addressed some of my concerns in personnel and programming, I am, again, for the time being, a subscriber. I particularly appreciated the addition of an option this year to build my own series instead of choosing a curated series and then having to swap out tickets to get to see what I wanted to see.

This was my first encounter with the music of Olga Neuwirth, an Austrian composer less than a decade older than me. Masaot/Clocks without Hands was a fascinating work, and the main reason that I chose the concert: while I love Mahler’s Fifth Symphony, I didn’t expect it to be a completely new experience (more on that to follow). I was able to examine a blurry online perusal score from Ricordi prior to the concert, but there appears to be no commercial recording available, which is unfortunate, as my experience last night suggests that the work would bear repeated listening. A tribute to Mahler, Masaot/Clocks without Hands captures that composer’s eclecticism in very direct ways–a klezmer-type ensemble keeps making appearances in a texture that is otherwise mostly concerned with sound masses and subtle timbral shifts. The look of the score belied the experience (again, I only had access to a tantalizing image of the score in my preparation)–I had expected a more driving, rhythmic sound, but got instead the subtle, nebulous textures that Franz Welser-Most seems to favor in new music; his approach on the podium was nearly as metronomic as the three metronomes in the score (but what other choice did he have, with them ticking away like that?). Ms. Neuwirth is clearly concerned with time and the perception of time, and that worked successfully in this piece. If there is a motivic structure, it was difficult to perceive on first hearing (again, another chance to listen would help), but there was sufficient interest that 20 minutes was not too long, and I will be interested to hear more of this work and others by its composer.

This was, of course, not my first encounter with Mahler’s C#-minor symphony. I was able to review my notes in my copy of the score and reread my blog posts from nine years ago on the piece, and it brought back some of my questions about the work from that period. While last night’s performance helped answer some questions, it raised others. In his pre-concert talk, Baldwin Wallace Professor Michael Strasser played exceprts from Bruno Walter’s 1947 recording of the work, which seemed unbelievably fast to me in comparison to the Bernstein recording that I have used as my reference for the last 25 years. Walter, of course, knew Mahler’ personally, so there is more authority to his reading, although he also had to take the limitations of his media into consideration in his preparations. At any rate, Welser-Most’s interpretation last night was deeply affecting, if not as free as Bernstein’s. I was able to appreciate a more brisk approach to the piece–the Adagietto does indeed come off better when it is around 7 or 8 minutes (by my timing) than a lugubrious reading that labors over each note. I was troubled by the decision to bring principal horn Nathaniel Silberschlag to the front of the stage–in the position between the concertmaster and conductor, as a concerto soloist–during the scherzo. I’m not sure what this added musically to the performance–the first horn part is extensive, of course, but it the movement never struck me as a feature for the horn. Mahler writes for the horn in a particular way, namely, as a fourth section of the orchestra. This is evident from the First Symphony on, as the eight horns in that piece (six in the Fifth Symphony) provide a counterweight to either strings, woodwinds, or heavy brass. To me, this is the exact reason Mahler favored a larger horn section. Taking the leader of that section away from the group–a good 30 to 40 feet away–makes him less able to lead in the section passages. I can only wonder if this is some kind of hazing, or a trick of the “dog and pony show” type that the orchestra engages in from time to time. Despite Mr. Silberschlag’s highly accurate and especially prominent performance, I’m not sure that the decision to feature him in this way was the right one. The orchestra played impeccably, and Michael Sachs’ opening trumpet solo struck the right balance for the entire work.

I look forward to my next trip to Severance Hall, in a mere three weeks, for music by Andrieesen, Prokofiev, and Beethoven, led by a conductor I have heard about but not yet seen, Jaap van Zweden.

Tags:, , , , , , , ,
Posted in Cleveland Concerts, Mahler symphonies, Personal Reflections | 1 Comment »