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.