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Reflections
on two performances of Mahler's Eighth, Salonen's final Bowl concert |
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PROGRAM:
Los Angeles Philharmonic Performances of Sept 9 and 11, 2008 at the Hollywood Bowl
An array of microphones was missing in 1977, but an inquisitive skunk wasn't. He or she decided to explore the quaint changing rooms beneath the stage, and the odor wafted out into the collective noses of the performing throng onstage and eventually out to my California Boys' Choir, who were performing in two long, narrow rows outside the Bowl's circumference, stage extreme right in service of the “Knabenchor” part. Then, as now, if one didn't feel moved by this work with or without skunkish extra-curriculum, one doesn't have a pulse. An almighty AMEN, emitted during the 2008 performances from several hundred throats onstage at the rear of the Hollywood Bowl, mostly enhanced by a not-quite-perfect sound reinforcement system, brought the first movement of Gustav Mahler's Eighth Symphony to a close. These final measures must come as close to inspiration as mortals are capable, with choral and instrumental musical rockets ascending into Heaven itself as precursors for that final celestial AMEN. One might reasonably have expected the heavens to open, and for God herself to wave like a Rose Queen in approbation. Maybe not, but if the hair on your necknape didn't stand straight up, you were not in the same zip code as Esa-Pekka Salonen and assembled forces. For musicians onstage, of both vocal and instrumental persuasions, a feeling of helplessness pervaded, as solo choirs could not hear one another and ultimate control was manifestly in the hands of the sound engineering crew, who according to performers, set up far too few microphones, which in turn meant furious dial-twirling mid-performance as Mahler capriciously sent melodies and their fragments cavorting about the stage. And there seemed to be the little matter of too little rehearsal time, too few drivers license-toting choristers onstage, and too great a reliance on the power of electronic media to make them sound the music equivalent of a chorus of Wizards of Oz. Not that the audience would notice, perhaps most especially the haute couture crowd in the Garden Boxes eating their pâté-laden zwieback washed down with early-harvest Sonoma Valley pinot noir, whilst the hoi polloi above sipped concession stand coffee and munched on pastries, and the students seated yet higher on the wooden benches enjoyed their popcorn, Cokes and themselves. And unlike 1977, not a single bottle was heard to roll down the sloping steps, whether on purpose or not, threatening to add their glassy ping to that of Mahler. These ears heard the work twice this month, the first from plush Garden Box 112, courtesy of my employer, the second in a Terrace Box seat shared by Brian Lauritzen, esteemed KUSC-FM producer, and his lovely wife. By sheer good fortune, I was wearing my brand new USC Football pullover to ward off the early fall chill. The sonic disparity between Tuesday and Thursday was remarkable. The sound heard in the Garden Box was breathtaking in detail, although instrumentalists and singers performing from the opposite side of the stage produced sound that was largely lost in the acoustical soup, becoming something of a soupçon (sorry). Especially lost were the two städtle-related solo violin bits heard in detail at the second concert that once again justified the Philharmonic's employment of Martin Chalifour as Concertmaster. The overall sound of the second performance was duller in detail, but sheer distance alone can have that effect. Unavoidably perhaps, the local air brigade was out in force, too, buzzing with the double-volume of flying just beneath the reflective surface of scudding low clouds. The work itself employs two Cadillac Escalade loads of soloists. The character titles are assigned from the last scene of Goethe's “Faust” - a literary gem greatly admired by Mahler. A short commentary on all the soloists appears below, with the caveat that singing out of doors at night before a near-capacity audience will shiver the timbers of many a soloist: Christine Brewer, soprano, as Magna Peccatrix – the great sinner – sang with the Wagnerian power, range and fortitude already on display for Los Angeles audiences in the recent Tristan Project with Maestro Salonen. Elza van den Heever, soprano, as Una poenitentium – a penitentiate, (aka a snuggling Gretchen as Mahler's score would have it, at least) – and native of South Africa, is performing this work with Michael Tilson Thomas in San Francisco later this season. One might be forgiven to conclude that her performances were close to a match with Ms. Brewer, but not quite. Clarity of tone and accuracy of pitch would be good descriptions of at least two of her vocal gifts. Stacey Tappan, soprano, as the Mater gloriosa, trumped all with her last lap of the long race high-flying solo performed from the audience-side light ring that one almost expected to start whirling and hovering, a virtual space bagel launching pad that required Ms. Tappan to tight-rope walk out onto from the rear of the stage. How fortunate for all that the earthquake gods were appeased sufficiently in the second movement “creepy-crawly” pantheism to abstain from toppling Ms. Tappan, whose range was particularly secure, especially given her outstanding breath control. Bonus points must be awarded for her royal blue gown that easily won honors amongst the lady soloists. Elena Manistina, soprano, as Maria Aegyptiaca, who sang her relatively slim pickings with stellar tone, and blended well with her colleagues. Nancy Maultsby, alto (subbing for Monica Groop) as the Mulier Samaritana, fared less well in the dank evening air, with a voice marinated in a wobble that masked her natural vibrato, and which did not match her soprano comrades, as her amplitude and volume surpassed the maximum requirements, even allowing for amplification. Tenor Anthony Dean Griffey (subbing for the indisposed Brandon Jovanovich), as Doctor Marianus, had a lot of hefty lifting to do in the Eighth Symphony. As a well-respected soloist around the world, Mr. Griffey sang with sweetly plangent tone throughout, with the curious exception of at least one non-difficult incipit, or introductory phrase that introduces a segment of music/text, namely “Blicket auf” (marked in the score at piano, but sung at an almost inaudible and croony pianissimo). But as subs go, he was an excellent choice. Alan Held, baritone, as Pater ecstaticus, - ecstatic father for the Latin-impaired, sang with passion and beauty of tone. John Relyea, bass, was the very embodiment of Pater profundus – the profound father. His huge bass voice is authentic – the real deal. He is not a pretend “bass” of the baritone family, and handled the German text with a physical attack that could never be confused as ill-prepared. The gentleman came prepared to sing. But it was clear where the budget went: once the soloist brigade was paid, extra seats in the orchestra had to be filled for the late-Romantic-sized band. That said, it appeared that the orchestra itself was doing some sight-reading. In the Thursday performance, the flute/piccolo trio almost came to a stop in a most exposed moment, early in the second movement. It seems that one or more players either forgot or failed to note in the score a change from a two-beat to a four-beat by Maestro Salonen. Or was it a four- to a two-beat? Whatever, it caused the familiar fluty trio to stagger a bit, and that seemed to set off general orchestral jitters for several pages that belied solid concert preparation. The Los Angeles Master Chorale's music director, Grant Gershon, was given a budget of only nine hours piano rehearsal time to prepare a slimmed down chorus of very few veterans who were around to perform the work more than 30 years ago. Given the scant resources, the Master Chorale and Los Angeles Children's Chorus (Anne Tomlinson, artistic director) (subbing for the composer's specifically intended “Knabenchor” (boys' choir)) sang well, greatly aided and abetted by the sound engineering corps. Mahler was obviously acquainted with the sound and timbre of a boys' choir, and, over the text “Amorem chordibus” in the first movement and “Er überwächst uns schon an mächtgen Gliedern”in the second, wrote notes clearly too low at forte for the girls who dominated this Chorus's tone, beginning on a low B and low A (=220 Htz), and ascending leapwise and scalewise, respectively. The lack of a “boyvoice buzz” was most evident in one of their most important entrances (at bar 91, a final righteous exclamation: “Gloria, in saeculorum saecula, Patri!”) that virtually defines the subdominant chord of the last, great choral AMEN. But lacking a local ensemble of suitable gender, volume and
timbre (in sufficient numbers or adequate preparation for that
matter), and having no budget to import the suitable Pacific
Boychoir from Oakland, LACC subbed well enough, the sound engineers
being as helpful as possible. For
tickets to the remaining concerts of the Hollywood Bowl's 2008
summer season, call (323) 850-2000 or visit
www.hollywoodbowl.org
Douglas Neslund is Classical Voice correspondent and a noted voice/choral teacher in Los Angeles.
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