The combined Master Chorale and Chamber Orchestra, stylishly led by an exacting and stylish Maestro, gave Haydn’s fourth symphonic Mass a reading that was large when required, but tender or even delicate, according to the requirements of the sacred text. Patricia Mabee had a bit of a struggle to keep the Walt Disney Concert Hall Organ in check, but was not always successful in doing so. It is a difficult task, because it may sound too loud in one area of the Hall while sounding too soft elsewhere. One wonders what Maestro Gershon hears of the organ at the conductor’s stand.

The uneven solo quartet was populated, as is the practice, by four Master Chorale singers, the first-year soprano Risa Larson and tenor Jon Lee Keenan, and veteran alto Leslie Inman and bass Steve Pence. Mr. Gershon’s placement of the solo quartet behind the orchestra, just in front of the Chorale, meant that the four had to be heard, for most of the audience, through or over the orchestra. As it turned out, none were able to do so without forcing. Only Ms. Larson’s voice soared above the band especially in the Sanctus. Unfortunately, her tone was thinly nasal, and she either over-enunciated starting consonants that caused her voice to break as a phrase began, or employed a glottal stroke. Ms. Inman sang as though the composer were Verdi, forcing a tone that was quite unattractive. Mr. Keenan’s tenor is pleasant but of uneven timber, and was better served when not engaged in mortal combat with Ms. Inman to his right, and the orchestra obliterating vocal contact with the audience. Mr. Pence is arguably the finest bass voice in the Master Chorale, but even he seemed to struggle with the placement behind the orchestra, and performed unlike several previous concerts during which he was presented as soloist downstage.

The Polish-born Henryk Górecki’s Opus 54: Five Marian Songs opened the evening’s musical offerings, and a fine performance it was. The Songs are strophic and homophonic, and almost uniformly contemplative, risking ennui by singers and audience alike. It requires a level of skill well beyond even a fine choir to preserve a forward momentum while spinning out phrase after phrase, and the delicate echo of phrase after phrase. The musical language is largely triadic with mildly atonal vectors of lush tonal crossing chords. A further danger in layered piano-pianissimo singing is that the voices of some singers who tend to relax their vocal support at the end of a phrases will flutter in an unsupported über-vibrato that threatens to loosen the otherwise gorgeous, tightly woven Master Chorale fabric. The distraction was mild, but unattractive.

A pattern could be detected from following the Polish verses provided the audience, and kindly translated by Beata Balon, a member of the Master Chorale, a pattern that had the choir repeat the final sentence, then the final phrase, then the final word. The effect was ethereal, if one didn’t lapse into too deep a reflective, meditative state.  Throughout the Górecki Marian Songs, the Master Chorale was the very embodiment of delicate intensity and focus. Despite the absence of an audience-thrilling loud finale, the audience rewarded the Songs with sustained applause.

Two a cappella double-choir items by Robert Schumann, “An die Sterne” and “Talismane,” concluded the first half of the concert with German Romantic settings of poetry by Rückert and Goethe, respectively. Sturm und Drang were in abundance, a stark contrast to the Górecki meditations that preceded them.

An aside regarding the onstage use of water by soloists. Until perhaps a decade ago, concert performances and good taste required soloists to hydrate themselves prior to the start of a concert. One could see a water bottle here or there in rehearsal, but never before the public. It is difficult to identify the first soloist to bring water onto the stage during performance, but the practice has now gone formal, with crystal glassware provided each soloist filled with designer H²O to meet their every dry moment. Mr. Keenan seemed to need this resource more than the other quartet members, two of whom chose not to lift glass to lips during the performance. How ever did decades and even centuries of soloists ever live through a performance without water at hand? Is this a genuine need, or are we sacrificing a bit of formality to the fads of the day?

 - Reviewed by Douglas Neslund

PROGRAM:  Johannes Brahms- Violin Sonata No. 1 in G Major, Op.78.  Violin Sonata No.2 in A Major, Op.100.  Violin Sonata No.3 in D Minor, Op.108.  Anne-Sophie Mutter, violin.  Lambert Orkis, piano

Musically, Mutter’s playing was unfailingly beautiful and constantly illuminating, probing the romantic depths and lyrical heights of the three Brahms sonatas.  The violin tone was rich but not overladen with vibrato.  It traced a rapt, fragile thread in an introspective view of these late sonatas.  This poised, restrained quality was especially memorable in the Adagio of the Sonata No. 3, Op.108.   There were no idiosyncratic tempo choices (as in her traversal of Beethoven sonatas); every note, every phrase flowed and slid naturally and inevitably to the next, every emotion crystallized and distilled into its purest essence. 

Mutter gifted her adoring fans with four generous encores (“more Brahms!”, she impishly declared) – three Hungarian dances and the Lullaby.   The dances were engagingly extrovert and wickedly charming.  It showed the other side of Mutter’s artistic persona one had not seen heretofore in the evening.   The Lullaby was played simply and sweetly in a hushed, radiant tone. 

Partnering her at the piano was Lambert Orkis, chameleon-like in his ability to match Mutter in the glowing lyricism and probing phrasing.  Together, they gave a wonderful impression of having thought through every detail of their interpretation.

Anne-Sophie Mutter is one of those special artists whose concerts are major cultural events in the annals of musical performance.  For thirty years since her fabled Salzburg debut at age thirteen with Herbert von Karajan, Mutter has matured from a child prodigy into a formidable musician, whose great art transcends analysis or criticism.  The near-capacity audience last Tuesday night testified to her enduring appeal.
 

- Reviewed by Truman C. Wang

Related link:  www.laphil.org

 


 

The Pasadena Symphony, under the direction of Jorge Mester, chose this work to cap the organization’s 80^th Anniversary Year, and the tenth time the maestro had presented the work. An enlarged orchestra peopled mostly with session instrumentalists played well under Mester’s clear and incisive conducting. Particular encomiums are due the brass choir, which was magnificent in the forte passages, while lacking a certain nuance in the pianissimi. One might wish for more intensity of feeling throughout this work, but unless an ensemble is comprised of a core of musicians who can play instinctively in ensemble due to working exclusively together, that goal would seem to be difficult to achieve. The grand old lady of concert halls, the Pasadena Civic Auditorium, which was almost filled to the last seat, was charged with hushed anticipation on a balmy evening.

Solo quartet duties for the Verdi Requiem require stentorian voices. On this celebratory occasion, surely the finest Verdi tenor currently before the public was on hand to sing. Stuart Neill has a lock on the Requiem, as is evidenced in part by his earlier season hire by the Los Angeles Master Chorale in the same work. Not only is he a large man with prodigious technique, but he is also a musician of the first order. When other members of the solo quartet strayed off pitch, his voice was the anchor that brought them back after eight or so measures of unVerdian atonality. He sings without music, and needs none. The last person on the last row of the balcony is his focus, and thereby includes everyone in the house within his range of vocalism. He may be one of the few remaining singers employing a truly bel canto technique. Some voices are large, and unattractive; his is large and beautiful, betraying not an ounce of struggle.

His soprano partner this evening was Kelley Nassief, whose limpid soprano and expressive phrasing revealed her to be a musician with a beautiful voice and the high tessitura equal to Verdi’s high-wire challenges. One proposes that had she not indulged in onstage water swigging when not singing, her voice’s failure to negotiate a critically exposed downward phrase toward the translucent end may not have happened.

A truly Verdian bass voice may not exist anymore. There are baritones by the bushel being marketed through concert and opera venues all around the world presenting themselves as “bass-baritones,” a vocal designation that belies a lack of weight necessary to bear the label “bass.” Nmon Ford was the bass-baritone of the evening, and had some nice moments in negotiating Verdi’s score, but one cannot compare Mr. Ford to old-school Verdian singers. His important entry in “Quam olim Abrahae” was weaker than it should have been.  It may be that he is young enough to grow into an authentic bass voice. One earnestly hopes so. The genre is severely lacking in representation.

Mezzo-soprano Carmella Jones had the most difficulty vocally in gaining control over her multi-tiered voice, which was particularly ugly in the lowest range, and would have been adequate in midrange had she not indulged in extraordinary alterations of the vowels she was meant to sing. Her efforts looked forced and alas, no relief was to be found. Given the instability of her voice in all ranges and her gross distortion of the text, it should not be surprising that the four members of the solo quartet experienced balance and pitch problems throughout the evening.

Maestro Mester presided over the large orchestra and as much of a chorus as could be fit into the bleachers immediately behind the band. When the chorus stood to sing, they fanned out on either side to the extremities allowed by the stage walls, and when this action occurred quickly, it was something of a visual distraction from the music. The chorus, drawn from two choral units based at Occidental College in Eagle Rock and prepared by Jeffrey Bernstein, were the orchestra’s match for much of the evening, but lost focus in the first fugue, with the altos’ entrance lagging and threatening to tear the musical fabric. The bass section was almost completely devoid of true bass voices, but then, few university students have voices that can be said to have settled into the requisite heft as well as range for a bass voice. Other than the above exceptions, the chorus roared when Verdi so indicated, and sang very fine pianissimi when needed. One also noted that the soprano section sang clearly, and did not let support lag before a phrase was completed. To at least one attendee, the performance overall was a surprisingly good one.  Special appreciation to programme annotator Dr. Lars Hoefs, who outdid himself.

 - Reviewed by Douglas Neslund

Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D Major, Op.61 is a repoertoire warhorse, so it is a pleasant surprise to hear a fresh new interpretation from Fischer and violinist Christian Tetzlaff.  Here is the conventional reading: serene, youthful with a touch of Sturm und Drang here and there in the first movement.  Then there was the Fischer/Tetzlaff reading: Spartan, melancholy with chamber music-like intimate exchanges between the soloist and the orchestra.  The Romantic outbursts were heard mainly in the solo cadenzas; the orchestral texture remained unclouded and pristine, with minimal string vibrato as per 18th-Century performance practice.   Interestingly, this chamber-music approach extended to Tetzlaff’s choice of sharing the first-movement cadenza with the timpani, based on Beethoven’s own original.  I know of one recording that uses the same cadenza, conducted by early-music specialist Nikolaus Harnoncourt who, incidentally, was once a mentor to Fischer.

Where the performance might have gained in the clarity of expression and calculated sophistication (especially in the first movement), it failed to express the human qualities in Beethoven’s music.  Tetzlaff showed a lot of technical prowess but one felt he never was fully vested in the music emotionally.  Likewise for Fischer’s conducting.  Too often the tempo choices seemed deliberate rather than natural, as when every time a main theme or a solo passage was heard, it would suddenly decelerate to a pianissimo, then slowly accelerate and become irksome after one time too many.  The contemplative slow movement and, particularly, the vivacious final rondo were more enjoyable and contained much more rhythmic freedom.

Tetzlaff played a violin partita by J.S. Bach as an encore, showing many of the same intellectually probing but unemotional qualities heard in the Beethoven.  This is not a value judgment, just a matter of artistic preference.

Richard Strauss’ symphonic tone poem Also sprach Zarathustra is best known for its cataclysmic opening measures that feature on the movie soundtrack of “2001: A Space Odyssey”.  It is a shame, because the work in its entirety is one superb and exhilarating roller coaster ride.  Based on Nietzsche’s fictional hermit Zarathustra, who one day sees the sun shining down on the earth and decides to come down from the mountains to preach the wonders of mother Nature to his fellow men (something like today’s ‘green’ evangelist).  So, the famous ‘2001 motif’ is actually the ‘sun motif’, depicting the unmoving sun in a crescendo of orchestral splendors (aided by the Disney Hall’s glorious 6,125-pipe organ), and the remainder of the piece illustrates, in a tour de force of vivid orchestration, men’s scientific pursuits (vigorous fugal section), men’s sorrows (Grablied), men’s joys (Tanzlied) and Zarathustra’s return to the solitude of the mountains (quiet ending).   Conductor Fischer gave a very strong reading of the score.  The massive organ pedals combined with a reinforced brass section to give a thrilling introduction of “Zarathustra”.   The other sections also went well, containing some beautifully detailed playing.  Inexplicably, the Viennese waltz was made to sound more lugubrious than charming.  The L.A. Phil truly outdid itself under Fischer’s superb direction.

- Reviewed by Truman C. Wang

Related link:  www.laphil.org
 

After the Ravel, the flamboyant French pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet played Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A-Minor with theatrical flair and supreme lyricism.  From the dizzying swirls of the Allegro’s opening measures, to the lyrical second subject’s dialogs between the flute and the piano, to the stormy closing cadenza, Thibaudet’s keyboard manner was unfailingly refined, his phrasing clear without being clouded by excessive pedal.  The concluding Allegro was delightfully exuberant in the style of a Norwegian folk dance.  Conductor Dutoit provided an idiomatic support throughout the concerto.  Consistently, one got the impression of cool Nordic air warmed by the sunshine of the South of France.  The standing ovation for Thibaudet was thunderous.  The enthusiastic audience pleaded for but did not receive an encore.

The popular Symphony No. 3 (“Organ”) of Camille Saint-Saëns is a clever work in its integration of the organ into a symphony (in the poco adagio and finale).  It is written in the ‘cyclic’ form pioneered by Franz Liszt.  A motive or theme is repeated in various guises throughout a symphonic work.  It ties and unifies the different sections of a work more directly and powerfully than the traditional key-based Sonata form.  The performance by the L.A. Phil under Dutoit was vital and blazing with colors.  Dutoit was clearly enjoying himself, letting out occasional grunts and groans (not as much as Dudamel) from the conductor’s rostrum.  The poco adagio was full of elegiac air with gentle contributions from the organ.  The scherzo had the rhythmic buoyancy of a Mendelssohn symphony.   The Walt Disney Hall organ’s ‘forest of pipes’ sounded out the majestic C-Major chords of the finale thrillingly in all their splendor and magnificence, thanks to the outstanding work by organist  Joanne Pearce Martin.   It was a cathartic conclusion to a busy work week for those stressed-out Angelinos in the audience.

- Reviewed by Truman C. Wang

Related link:  www.laphil.org

Although they feature prominent solo parts (flute, violin, oboe and trumpet solos in Concerto No.2; violas, violas da gamba and cello in No. 6), the Brandenburg Concertos are ensemble works. The orchestra is small, ranging from a maximum of seven violins to a chamber group with one player to a part.  In these concertos, ensemble spirit is just as important as solo virtuosity.

Last Saturday evening, a select group of musicians from the California Philharmonic gathered at Pasadena’s Ambassador Auditorium to perform these six Baroque gems.  These were talented musicians who clearly relished each other’s company in music of truly inspiring greatness.   Trumpeter David Washburn was fearless and brilliant in the high-flying trumpet parts of Concerto No.2.   Harpsichordist Patricia Mabee did a splendid job in Concerto No. 5, full of verve and drama in that extraordinary first-movement cadenza.   The ensemble work was well directed by maestro Victor Vener, despite some over-leisurely tempi in the allegro’s of Concerto Nos. 2, 3, 4 and 6.  

In Concerto Nos. 3, the recorder was replaced by the modern flute, losing much of the ethereal echo effect in the slow movement.  But my main pet peeve was with the flutist carrying a water bottle with her, hydrating herself in full view of the audience.  It seems to be a common practice these days and should be banned as poor concert etiquette. 

As is the tradition with Cal Phil, the concert was in the ‘edutainment’ format.  On this occasion, actors dressed in period costumes greeted audience members as they were arriving at the Ambassador Auditorium.  Furthermore, each actor had done their homework as well, so that they could share what they had learned about Bach and the Baroque era of music with audience members in the lobby prior to the performance.

Inside the auditorium, Cal Phil’s avuncular Music Director Victor Vener preceded each concerto by dispensing a golden nugget of knowledge on the 18^th-Century music and performance practice.  For example, we learned that it was a faux pas to sit down in the presence of nobilities.  We also learned the inner workings of the harpsichord – the strings are plucked, not hammered as in the modern piano.

Vener has obviously re-thought and researched carefully for this concert.  It was also good to see many young people in the audience who otherwise would have found classical music incomprehensible.   Cal Phil is a ‘people’s orchestra’ that has greatly enriched the Pasadena community in which it serves.  

- Reviewed by Truman C. Wang

Related link:  www.calphil.org

Eschewing the usual outside soloist, the L.A. Phil enlisted its own principal clarinet Michele Zukovsky for the Mozart Clarinet Concerto, K.622.  Zukovsky’s solo spotlight was well-earned, for she played with grace, eloquence and, in the Adagio, radiant soft tones.   In this concerto, Mozart uses the bass clarinet’s extended lower range to great effects.  Zukovsky clearly relished in exploring these lower notes and the dark smoky colors with mellifluous virtuosity.  And because of her close association with the orchestra, her sound blended beautifully into the ensemble but without quite standing out.  Some passages in the outer movements, I think, would have benefited from more risk-taking rubato and improvisory playing.   The L.A. Phil was on top form throughout, complementing the solo line with some beautifully hushed playing. 

The intermission was twenty minutes of eye-popping haute couture and star gazing at the Box Terrace level.  I spotted William Friedkin and Sherry Lansing from among the crowd.  Fashion photographers were busy snapping away at the beautiful, impeccably groomed cocktail party guests. 

Several years ago, Salonen led the L.A. Phil in a performance of Bruckner’s Seventh that was thrilling, volcanic, falling short only in dynamic nuances and subtlety.  This time around, however, he chose Bruckner’s Symphony No. 6 – the least fashionable of Bruckner’s mature symphonies – and gave it an extraordinarily vivid and nuanced reading. 

The Segerstrom Hall acoustics was as warm and inviting as ever; yet in the Bruckner it also provided the kind of multifaceted organ-like sonorities that helped give a Bruckner symphony its special character.   Listening to the performance, I was left in little doubt that this is Bruckner's most strikingly scored symphony, its ''tumultuous surface sparkling like the Homeric seas'', as Sir Donald Tovey put it many years ago.

Many performances of Bruckner’s Sixth have come to grief as a result of the conductor's inability to gauge the pulse of the two outer movements. Bruckner's tempo indications and his bowing marks both imply a certain breadth of utterance that has to be reconciled nonetheless with pulsing rhythms and demystified textures.  Salonen was able to sort all these out admirably; he had hawk-like patience and a hawk-like keenness of vision.  Salonen set a very good basic tempo in the first movement, which he then proceeded to modify in accord with Bruckner's carefully documented wishes.   The same scrupulous care also went into the complex and mystic finale.

Salonen’s reading of the two inner movements deserved nothing but praise. He allowed the Adagio the space it needs.  The quality of the L.A. Phil sound in the grieving C minor funeral lament was such as to make one want to rank this slow movement alongside those of the better-known Seventh and Eighth Symphonies.  And how beautifully the slow movement's coda was handled and characterized. 

The slowish, minor-key Scherzo was also perfectly judged. Indeed, the Trio for horns, woodwinds and strings sounded positively sweet and irresistible (one could really hear the peasant Bruckner here).  The L.A. Phil’s choir of horns outdid themselves in the heaven-storming C-Major ruckus that make up the outer sections of the Scherzo.  

After so fabulously played a Bruckner Sixth, there could be no doubt Salonen has reached the full height of his powers as a conductor.  He shall be missed in the OC. 

- Reviewed by Truman C. Wang

Related link:  www.philharmonicsociety.org