2016 FREELANCE REVIEWS
The Seattle Symphony Orchestra and Chorale present Handel’s “Messiah,” with Stephen Layton conducting; Benaroya Hall, Dec. 16-18, 2016
By Melinda Bargreen
What a difference a conductor makes.
The Seattle Symphony’s guest maestro for this year’s “Messiah” performances, Stephen Layton, put his own expert stamp on Handel’s most famous oratorio Friday evening in the first of four performances at Benaroya Hall. Imaginative, lively, and full of drama, this was a “Messiah” worth the audience’s “hallelujah.”
Layton, a distinguished British conductor whose recordings with the ensemble Polyphony are prized by choral fans, has put together a distinctive and convincing version of the Handel classic. There are several trims; audiences may be startled to see the performance move directly from “The trumpet shall sound” to “Worthy is the lamb,” but it makes dramatic sense. (And few will regret the omission of some of the intervening numbers; even Handel was unevenly inspired, particularly when he was in a hurry. He composed his “Messiah” in just under three weeks.)
Full of exciting contrasts and beautifully tailored dynamics, Layton’s briskly paced reading commands the listener’s involvement. The chorus “Surely he hath borne our griefs” was given punchy, almost aggressive accents. “All we like sheep” was all rollicking energy until the final line (“The iniquity of us all”), which Layton drew out at great length, leaning on the dissonance of a minor second in the next-to-last bar.
With a wealth of expressive details and dynamic contrasts, this was a performance that made clear Layton’s mastery of this score and its timing. There were no awkward pauses; soloists moved into place before their entrances, and the transitions were nearly seamless. The soloists, all from various locations in the British Isles, included soprano Eleanor Dennis, mezzo-soprano Helen Charlston, tenor Gwilym Bowen, and baritone Robert Davies. They ranged from commendable to downright thrilling. Dominating that latter category was Bowen, who made the kind of impact not heard here since the lone “Messiah” appearance in Seattle of the great English tenor Phillip Langridge, back in the late 1970s. Lyrical and agile, with considerable expressive depth, Bowen delivered every phrase as if it had just occurred to him, with unfailingly expressive spontaneity. His “Thy rebuke” positively heartrending.
The Chorale, prepared by Joseph Crnko, was a fleet and nimble ensemble, following Layton’s tempo changes with alacrity. The trimmed-down orchestra, with Simon James as concertmaster. played with very little vibrato; David Gordon’s trumpet solos were nobly executed. Organist Joseph Adam added to the drama by dashing from the small onstage instrument up to the loft of the mighty Watjen concert organ for a final “Amen” that shivered the timbers of the hall -- and the audience.
Go, if you can: who knows when the Symphony will be able to lure Layton back, and hearing him at work with these musical forces is a holiday treat not to be missed.
The Seattle Symphony Orchestra and Chorale present Elgar’s “The Dream of Gerontius,” with Edward Gardner conducting; Benaroya Hall, December 1 and 3, 2016
By Melinda Bargreen
The term “neglected masterpiece” has long hovered around Edward Elgar’s mighty “The Dream of Gerontius,” last heard in Seattle in 1991. In the hands of a conductor and performers who believe in this powerful oratorio, however, “Gerontius” can shiver the timbers of concert hall and audience alike – as it did in the first of two Seattle Symphony performances on Thursday evening.
Edward Gardner’s powerful, impassioned conducting illuminated the life-and-death struggles of the score that Elgar called “the best of me.” From the opening phrases to the transcendent finale, the British-born maestro spurred the orchestra, chorale, and three particularly fine soloists forward in a performance that never lost focus or momentum. At particularly dramatic moments, Gardner practically levitated off the podium, sometimes gripping his baton with both hands and flailing it as if wielding a weapon.
And there were plenty of dramatic moments, too, with the full orchestra and the Watjen concert organ (admirably played by Joseph Adam), and the Seattle Symphony Chorale in full voice (well schooled by Joseph Crnko), representing both ethereal angels and surprisingly feisty demons.
Crucial to the production’s success were three soloists who could hardly have been better. The greatest challenges fell to tenor Robert Murray, who sang Gerontius with beautiful timbre, expressive depth, and immaculate diction. Baritone David Soar was powerfully impressive as the Priest and the Angel of the Agony. Mezzo-soprano Sasha Cooke, most recently heard as Hansel in Seattle Opera’s “Hansel and Gretel,” was an angelic Angel indeed --producing a warm, rich tone quality, evenly throughout her register.
The music, set to a text by Cardinal John Henry Newman, flows through a series of scenes indicating the soul’s journey, sometimes in quiet reflection, in tremulous fear, and in the certainty of salvation. Elgar is a clever colorist who knows how to pair his mezzo-soprano with the warm-toned accompaniment of cellos and violas, instruments that mimic and support the voice particularly well. Combining soloists and chorus with the power of the pipe organ, not to mention a full symphony, may well be the best possible audio representation of the glories of heaven.
One aspect of the presentation didn’t seem to have been considered in advance: the awkward pause between the two parts of “Gerontius.” There was no intermission; both halves of the 95-minute work were performed with only a short break in between. At the break, the audience was clearly wondering: Should we applaud? (A few did, sounding a bit tentative.) Most oratorio performances do involve an intermission; it mightn’t have been a bad idea here.
At the premiere of “Dream of Gerontius,” back in 1900, the woefully underrehearsed performance had been so bad that Elgar entertained serious thoughts of suicide. Would that he had been in the house for Thursday’s Seattle performance! Elgar’s masterpiece is still too often overlooked, but when given such a skilled and committed reading, “Gerontius” can shine again.
The Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra, with Gustavo Dudamel, conductor, in Mahler’s Ninth Symphony; presented by Seattle Symphony. Benaroya Hall, November 4, 2016.
By Melinda Bargreen
Are they really that good?
Yup, they are.
The Los Angeles Philharmonic and music director Gustavo Dudamel arrived in Benaroya Hall Friday evening for a concert that underscored the glowing reputation of their partnership. The program, Mahler’s massive and tragic Ninth Symphony, displayed what a virtuoso orchestra can achieve in the hands of a great conductor.
The four-movement Ninth, which clocks in at around an hour and a half, is Mahler’s last completed symphony. (The Tenth, left unfinished at Mahler’s death, was completed by a Mahler scholar, and it was performed and recorded here last season by the Seattle Symphony and Thomas Dausgaard.)
A vast musical kaleidoscope that ranges from halting despair to furious intensity, the complicated Ninth is a challenge for any conductor; Dudamel conducts it without a score, a prodigious feat of memory. Watching him cajole, command, and beseech great performances out of his players makes it clear that this is a rare and brilliant musical relationship.
Many commentators have discussed the ways in which the Ninth is a symphony about death: the halting phrases that sound like Mahler’s own ailing heartbeat, and the attenuated dying-away notes in the finale – with Mahler’s own indication in the last bar of the score, “ersterbend” (dying). Yet Dudamel’s reading of the score is no mere death knell, but a vision that encompasses boisterous and triumphant life as well. He can make that big orchestra into a flexible and fleet troupe that turns its phrases on a dime, from exuberant to demonic in a twinkling, and back down to the merest whisper of sound.
In the Mahler Ninth, there’s frequently so much going on in the orchestra that a conductor must work hard for clarity. Nothing ever sounded muddy, though, even in the score’s most densely constructed moments. Now in his eighth season with the LA Philharmonic, Dudamel made his initial reputation as a wildly exuberant maestro; while he’s still fun to watch, his movements and his baton choreography are more restrained. What is still obvious is Dudamel’s close communication with his players, particularly in the glorious, hymnlike fourth movement, where he let them linger over the rich melodies.
When the last faint phrases of the Ninth died slowly away like the ebbing of life, Dudamel sustained the bridge between almost-silence and real silence – keeping his hands raised (and keeping the audience silent) for many long seconds before finally lowering the hands. The applause was tumultuous, as the conductor moved among his players to recognize them section by section, while the appreciative audience roared at football-stadium volume levels. Dudamel’s well-deserved pride in every single player was endearingly obvious.
Seattle Symphony presents Hilary Hahn, violinist, in recital with pianist Robert Levin; Benaroya Hall, November 4.
By Melinda Bargreen
Ever since she burst into the concert world as a preternaturally gifted teenager, violinist Hilary Hahn has built a career by blazing her own trail. She recorded a best-selling album of cerebral solo Bach as a high-schooler, and Hahn has more recently revitalized the contemporary violin repertoire by commissioning inventive encore pieces from 27 international composers.
A capacity Benaroya Hall audience heard both Bach and a 21st-century encore in a remarkable Sunday recital with the pianist Robert Levin. The program was clearly designed as a partnership: Levin had a solo turn as well, in a lineup that included works of Bach, Mozart, and Schubert as well as two contemporary works and two encores.
At almost 37, Hahn has amassed a long list of recordings and honors; she is now married and a mother, and in Sunday’s performance she wore wire-rimmed glasses to read scores onstage. What hasn’t changed is the purity of her intonation, the intensity and beauty of her tone, the ease of her clean technique, and the probing intelligence of her interpretations.
On Sunday, the opening Bach Sonata No. 6 in G Major (BWV 1019) was not an auspicious start for the duo. Levin’s playing was heavy-handed and shapeless, chugging mechanically along and sometimes overbalancing Hahn’s more restrained, often vibratoless violin lines. Matters improved in the Mozart Sonata in E-Flat Major (K.481), which got a more graceful and better balanced performance distinguished by Hahn’s flexible and beautifully shaped phrasing.
The program got even more interesting after intermission, when each player took a solo turn. Levin’s was the uneasy, sometimes eerie “Träume” (“Dreams”) by Romanian composer Hans Peter Türk, composed in tribute to Türk’s late wife. Levin subtly evoked the “dreams” in agitated, otherworldly nuances.
Hahn played the Solo Partita No. 4 (part of a commissioned set of six) by Antón García Abril, in an exquisitely nuanced performance. The piece is so full of double stops that it sounds as if two violins are playing simultaneously – or, as Hahn once noted, “like conversations with yourself.”
An ebullient reading of the Schubert Rondo in B Minor (D.895) found Hahn and Levin closing the program in complete accord. They responded to an enthusiastic ovation with two encores: Max Richter’s stately and lovely “Mercy” (from Hahn’s “In 27 Pieces” album of encores, and similar to a Satie “Gymnopédie”), and Lili Boulanger’s slight but charming “Cortège.”
Seattle Opera presents “Hansel and Gretel,” Engelbert Humperdinck opera in Seattle Opera production, with Sebastian Lang-Lessing conducting; McCaw Hall, Seattle, Oct. 14-. 30.
By Melinda Bargreen
Saturday’s much-vaunted storm may have proved a bit of a dud – but there was plenty of action inside McCaw Hall for the opening night of Seattle Opera’s spirited and feisty “Hansel and Gretel.” This production, originally created by the director Laurent Pelly for the celebrated Glyndebourne Opera, has successfully toured in England, France, and Spain; Seattle marks its U.S. debut. It’s not hard to see why the show has achieved international popularity.
The production’s focus is grimmer than some, though it’s still perfectly appropriate for children: Hansel and Gretel are living with their parents in an ingenious cardboard box, and when they’re sent out into the forest to gather food, they encounter a landscape of dead trees strewn with cast-off trash. The character of the witch rides a fine line between hilarity and genuine menace.
Designed by Barbara de Limburg, the clever mobile set has a witch’s cottage that’s really a huge supermarket candy store, with a central oven just right for immolating its owner. At the end of Act II, as Hansel and Gretel dream of food, airborne images depicting those dreams (huge hamburgers, cakes, molten chocolate, French fries, etc.) descended over the stage, in perfect time with the score, and to the delighted applause of the audience. There must have been a run on the McCaw Hall refreshment counters at intermission.
A marvelously witty shadow-play film clip between acts introduces the Witch in silhouette as she vainly kick-starts a series of misbehaving brooms, finally picking out her ideal vehicle and zooming all over the screen.
What pulls all these elements together, under the guidance of revival directors James Bonath and Christian Räth, is the talent and energy of the two casts. Saturday’s opening night show featured Sasha Cooke as Hansel and Ashley Emerson as Gretel – both of them sang superbly, and acted with skill and panache. They made great siblings: squabbling and roughhousing a bit, but also looking out for each other.
Cooke has a big, supple sound; Emerson’s lighter and beautifully produced soprano was an ideal counterpart to Cooke’s boyish portrayal. Their acting was realistic and detailed, constantly in motion – just as real kids are.
Sunday’s nimble cast built on similar strengths. Anya Matanovic was a vocally assured and charming Gretel; Sarah Larsen was a convincing and beautifully sung Hansel.
As the parents, Marcy Stonikas and Mark Walters are exceptionally good, able to present conflicting emotions while still caring about their children’s welfare. Both have first-rate voices that illuminate their characters.
Amanda Opuszynski was a charming Sandman/Dew Fairy, her crystalline soprano accompanied by a most fetching characterization.
(It gives opera lovers pause to reflect that Seattle Opera’s now-suspended Young Artists program helped discover and shape the careers of Cooke, Stonikas, Opuszynski, Larsen and Matanovic. Time to revive that program!)
John Easterlin’s Witch was attired in a wonderfully hideous bright-pink suit, soon opened to display even more startling underpinnings. He employed a wide repertoire of cackles and shrieks, along with some fine singing, in creating a memorable character. On Sunday, Peter Marsh (similarly attired) took over the broomstick with equally impressive results, putting his own spin on witchy menace and vocal alacrity.
The orchestra, led by Sebastian Lang-Lessing, was really the star of the production, performing Humperdinck’s opulent neo-Wagnerian score with lyricism and accuracy. Lang-Lessing never overwhelmed the cast or let the pace flag.
The final scene, in which the Witch’s previous captives (plumped up by all that candy and junk food) are released from her spell, was charmingly done. The excellent children’s chorus, prepared by chorusmaster Beth Kirchhoff, is surprisingly affecting as they emerge in a stupor from the Witch’s candied domain -- giving opera fans a truly heartwarming finale. Cheers went up in the house as the sign was hoisted onto the stage, declaring the witch’s house “Für Immer Geschlossen” -- “Closed Forever.”
The Seattle Symphony Orchestra, with Yo-Yo Ma, cello soloist; Pablo Rus Broseta, conductor. Benaroya Hall, October 12, 2016.
By Melinda Bargreen
Yo-Yo Ma: three short syllables that guarantee a performance to remember. The great cellist and multifaceted musician has been performing in Seattle for about four decades (though never often enough), and he received a rock-star welcome in his latest arrival in Benaroya Hall on a windy Friday night.
With the Seattle Symphony’s associate conductor Pablo Rus Broseta on the podium, Ma gave a revelatory performance of one of the staples of the cello repertoire: the Haydn Concerto in C Major. He has never been an artist to overstate or exaggerate, but this might have been the most exquisitely understated Haydn C Major ever to emerge from beneath the bow of a cello. Exquisitely shaped, poetically soaring lines floated the melodies out into the audience, and you could see people leaning forward in their seats to listen.
And not just to listen. During the first-movement cadenza, when Ma scooted up to hit a bravura high G, an appreciative voice in the back of the hall declaimed, “Yeah.” It might not have been ideal concert etiquette, but it was what most of us were thinking.
The tremendous subtlety, accuracy, and lyricism of Ma’s playing made listeners reimagine the whole idea of a concerto. His approach was never “Look at me, the great soloist!” Instead, Ma’s attitude conveyed, “Hear how beautiful this music is.” Everything he does is in service to the score. Unlike most soloists, Ma likes to play along with the orchestra in the tutti passages as if he were a cello-section member, viewing the music as a joint enterprise rather than a star vehicle.
Even the encores were a community affair: at the end of the program, after a remarkably enthusiastic ovation, Ma asked the audience what they’d like to hear. From the many shouted suggestions he picked two: Bach’s Prelude to the G Major Cello Suite (No. 1), and the sublimely simple “Appalachia Waltz” of Mark O’Connor. Those serene last notes were like a benediction.
Leading the program was the orchestra’s associate conductor, Pablo Rus Broseta, who made a good impression not only as an able and subtle partner in the concerto, but also in the three orchestral pieces preceding it. Beginning with some nicely characterized Bartok (the “Rumanian Folk Dances,” with particularly fine playing from clarinetist Ben Lulich), Broseta also presented some elegant and nimble Mozart: the familiar Symphony No. 29 in A Major (K.201), and the less familiar Symphony in D Major (K.196/121). These were well-received hors d’oeuvres for the evening’s main event.
The Seattle Symphony Orchestra 2016-17 Opening Night Concert, with Ludovic Morlot conducting and Joyce DiDonato, soloist; Benaroya Hall, Sept. 17.
By Melinda Bargreen
It was a textbook lesson in how to charm an audience.
Mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato, beloved of opera and concert fans around the world, showed Saturday’s Seattle Symphony Opening Night audience just how to do it. You start with a great singer at the height of her considerable powers; at 47, DiDonato is in the middle of what is usually the vocal glory decade, when the artist knows just how to use the voice and the voice is still cooperating.
To this, you add a nice variety of repertoire, designed to show off that voice in a multitude of ways – and giving the soloist every opportunity to shine.
On Saturday night, DiDonato commanded a well-chosen array of songs and arias that started with the fireworks of Pacini’s “Ove t’aggiri, o barbaro” (from “Stella di Napoli”), displaying a two-and-a- half octave span of razor-precise passagework and a regal attitude that began with a snappy head toss. The next work, Handel’s famous “Ombra mai fu” (from “Xerxes”), was all about control and subtlety, and a daring pianissimo that exhibited her total command of her vocal resources.
Later on, things loosened up with a selection of Broadway and popular classics, ranging from an outrageously charming “I Feel Pretty” (from “West Side Story”) to an eloquently simple “Danny Boy.” Using a microphone for the pops portion of the show, DiDonato swanned happily about the stage, sometimes lounging on maestro Ludovic Morlot’s podium; she addressed orchestra players with her song, and ruffled the hair of one of the violinists (Michael Miropolsky). She drew Morlot into a brief dance during Gershwin’s “Embraceable You.”
But DiDonato scored the most points playing it absolutely straight: a “Star-Spangled Banner” of the most direct simplicity (would that it were sung this way more often at sporting events!), and an elegant “Over the Rainbow” to cap off her performance. What a pro.
Morlot and the orchestra showed to best advantage in the opening “Royal Fireworks Music” Overture, and the “Entrance of the Queen of Sheba”(from “Solomon”), both by Handel. Later Morlot went on to conduct a lively pair of 20th-century overtures: Bernstein’s Overture to “West Side Story,” and the jazzy, colorful 1982 “Ragomania: A Classic Festival Overture” of Seattle native son William Bolcom.
It was an evening of less talk and more music – not always a typical format for the traditional opening night concert. There were some short speeches, but the usual impulse to thank every conceivable entity did not prevail this time. What the audience did hear was a well-chosen welcoming message by board chair Leslie Jackson Chihuly, and later a graceful appreciation by Morlot, who noted that this concert launches his sixth season with the Seattle Symphony. If the rest of the season is this successful, it will be a triumph indeed.
The Wicked Adventures of Count Ory,” by Gioachino Rossini, in Seattle Opera production; August 6 and 7.
By Melinda Bargreen
Frothy, fast-paced, and irresistibly funny: “Count Ory” may go down in history as Seattle Opera’s most uproarious season-opener ever. The opening weekend had opera patrons asking each other, “Why don’t companies produce this work more often?”
Well, it’s not that easy. To make “Ory” work, you need adroit staging and great visuals, as well as a cast that can handle the fiendishly speedy and florid vocal writing while acting up a storm. Luckily, Seattle audiences get all of this and more in this show, with a tongue-in-cheek storybook ambiance that was met with wild enthusiasm in the audience.
Australian stage director Lindy Hume kept the action continually on the boil, while Dan Potra’s ingenious designs provided an ever-changing set with elements that revolve, slide, open, and close constantly into new forms, all beautifully lighted by Duane Schuler. A fairytale castle three stories high can rotate, open, shut, and admit singers in many different ways. Floating cartoon-balloon captions inform the audience about what’s happening, much to the delight of operagoers.
The over-the-top costumes (which, like the set, were built by Seattle Opera) seem to draw inspiration from Liberace or Elton John, with a side of Monty Python: there are wild colors, frills and spangles, as well as codpieces in remarkable dimensions. And, of course, there are nuns’ habits, disguises donned by the lecherous Count Ory and his roistering henchmen in order to gain access to the women of the castle while their protectors are off to the Crusades.
Fortunately, all the entertaining visuals are a backdrop to some spectacular singing. In the opening-night cast’s title role, tenor Lawrence Brownlee hits more high Cs than an ocean-going vessel (along with several even higher notes), with nimble precision and a tonal beauty that has already made him the toast of Europe. Opposite him was soprano Sarah Coburn, whose high-flying coloratura riffs are dazzling indeed – bigger and warmer now than earlier in her career, but still fluent and accurate. In the “pants role” of the young boy Isolier, Hanna Hipp sang and acted with easy alacrity. Rodion Pogossov was a stylish, energetic Raimbaud; Patrick Carfizzi had a great turn as the hapless Tutor, and supporting roles were well taken by Jennifer Bromagen and Maria Zifchak. The ensemble work was terrific, except for some intonation problems at the end of the first act.
Sunday’s alternate cast presented Barry Banks, a tenor with handsome tone quality and adroit comic sense, in the title role; his Countess Adèle, Lauren Snouffer, displayed impressive coloratura and heart-stopping high notes. Will Liverman (as Raimbaud) and Stephanie Lauricella (Isolier) were both first-rate.
Giacomo Sagripanti’s conducting kept the fast-paced score galloping along, while attentively supporting the singers. A hearty “Bravi” to his fleet-fingered orchestra. The chorus, brilliantly responsive to all the music and the texts, sang and acted with sizzling energy and a sure sense of drama.
We’re told that when Franz Liszt conducted “Ory” in Weimar, he said it “bubbled like champagne”—and had bottles of it distributed to the audience. That’s a nice idea … but this production bubbles just fine on its own.
The Seattle Chamber Music Society’s Summer Festival, July 11 concert; programs continue through July 30. 0-0, preconcert recitals start one hour before each concert and are free. Benaroya Hall, 200 University St., Seattle (206-283-8710, www.seattlechambermusic.org).
By Melinda Bargreen
Over the 35-year history of the Seattle Chamber Music Society, its summer festival concerts have featured a succession of world premieres, along with the familiar musical bonbons. Few premieres, however, have caught on as resoundingly with the audience as has this year’s “The Inland Seas.”
Listeners leaped to their feet to accord the new piece a lengthy standing ovation, at the conclusion of the five-movement work representing the five Great Lakes (Michigan, Superior, Huron, Erie, and Ontario). The composer, Jeremy Turner, is already well known to festivalgoers as a cellist; he also was the Juilliard roommate of festival director/violinist James Ehnes.
Scored for an unusual duo, violinist Ehnes and mandolinist Chris Thile, “The Inland Seas” is a study in subtle pointillist textures and brilliant effects attainable only by virtuoso players. In music they recreate the sounds of rain and waves, wild windstorms, seagulls, even the howl of a wolf. Thile is particularly amazing to watch and to hear, strumming and tapping and scratching his mandolin, then exploding into impossibly fast fingerwork as challenging as any violin concerto. The two players achieved an almost uncanny level of ensemble, even in the most fleet-fingered passages.
The new work, placed just before intermission, sent the excited audience out into the lobby afterward on a buzz of discussion. But there was considerably more to the concert than the premiere (which was underwritten by the Society’s Commissioning Club).
The program opened with a nicely detailed, rather decorous performance of Haydn’s String Quartet No. 24 in A Major, with violinists Karen Gomyo and Jun Iwasaki, violist Che-Yen Chen, and cellist Clive Greensmith. One of the festival’s long-running regulars, Cynthia Phelps (principal violist of the New York Philharmonic), returned to play the lovely “Märchenbilder” of Schumann -- equally impressive for her speedy fingers and for the golden warmth of her tone, especially in the bottom octave of her instrument’s compass. She was admirably partnered by pianist Alessio Bax.
The program’s finale was Beethoven’s familiar “Ghost” Trio (Op. 70, No. 1), with violinist Amy Schwarz Moretti and cellist Efe Baltacigil (principal cello of the Seattle Symphony) joined by pianist Inon Barnatan. It was a performance remarkable for both high drama and beautiful details. The lengthy middle “ghostlike” movement emerged with careful finesse, and the finale was an explosion of energy.
The next three programs offer some remarkable pianists in free-admission pre-concert recitals, starting at 7 p.m.: Alessio Bax (playing Scriabin and Rachmaninoff) on July 13, Inon Barnatan (Brahms’ “Variations on a Theme of Handel”) on July 15, and on July 18, George Li – silver medalist of last year’s International Tchaikovsky Competition – in works of Rachmaninoff and Liszt. What a keyboard bonanza!
Seattle Symphony Orchestra, Ludovic Morlot conducting, with Jean-Yves Thibaudet, piano soloist; Benaroya Hall, June 5, 2016.
By Melinda Bargreen
What a difference an artistic appointment can make.
An orchestra’s music director makes many choices during the course of a season, but certainly one of Ludovic Morlot’s best decisions for 2015-16 was the appointment of Jean-Yves Thibaudet as Artist in Residence at the Seattle Symphony. The French pianist started the season by chairing the jury for the Symphony’s first piano competition last September, and continued with an ear-opening succession of performances here – including one of the finest solo piano recitals ever heard in Benaroya Hall.
On Sunday, Thibaudet played the jazzy, mercurial G Major Piano Concerto of Ravel with his countryman Morlot and the orchestra, proving again the brilliance of his technique and his stylistic mastery of this repertoire. If he sounded utterly secure in every phrase, perhaps it’s because Thibaudet has been playing the concerto ever since he was 11 (he’s 54 now). The piano, technically a percussion instrument, has seldom sounded less percussive. It’s hard to imagine this music emerging with more loving finesse and more exquisite detail.
The soloist’s rapport with Morlot was evident throughout the performance, and the Symphony musicians – especially the principal winds – outdid themselves with beautiful solo responses to the soloist in the second Adagio assai movement. The fiery energy of the final movement drew sustained applause at the conclusion, and Thibaudet responded with another, considerably more dulcet, work of Ravel as an encore: the lovely “Pavane pour une infante défunte” (“Pavane for a dead princess”).
A note to wise music lovers: Thibaudet will return for three performances of Gershwin’s “Concerto in F” on June 9-11.
Sunday afternoon’s curtain-raiser was a less familiar work by Ravel’s fellow Frenchman Gabriel Fauré, a generation older than Ravel and rather more modestly talented. Fauré’s suite “Masques et Bergamasques” has a few lovely moments, from an effervescent overture to a serene finale, but few would give it top marks for musical profundity. The performance was graceful, except for some moments of unfortunate intonation.
Dvorak’s “New World” Symphony might sound like an odd conclusion to a mostly-French program, but there are significant parallels with the Ravel concerto: both make liberal use of American influences. Jazz permeates the Ravel; American folk tunes fill the Dvorak.
Maybe the concerto performance helped to fire up the orchestra; maybe it was just the enjoyment of playing a masterpiece like the “New World,” one whose inexhaustible fund of melody and brilliant orchestration just never seem to pall. In any case, the orchestra rallied under Morlot’s baton for a performance that was decidedly not “business as usual.” From the incisive brass to the eloquent wind solos (none more so than Stefan Farkas’ perfectly-judged English horn in the famous “Largo”), the Symphony brought the “New World” to vibrant life.
Seattle Symphony Orchestra and Chorale, with the Northwest Boychoir, in works of Shostakovich and Stravinsky; Ludovic Morlot, conductor. Benaroya Hall, June 2, 2016.
By Melinda Bargreen
Two towering works of genius – and a beefed-up, revved-up orchestra to bring those works to life. It’s a recipe for a great concert, as Seattle Symphony audiences discovered on Thursday evening in the first of two performances of the current subscription program.
Music director Ludovic Morlot was on the podium, urging on the combined forces that filled the Benaroya Hall stage to full capacity. They played as if their lives depended on the outcome: committed, vivid performances, full of the fierce energy required by these scores.
The program presented two Russian masterpieces of the 1930s, written in the shadow of Stalin. (Stravinsky’s “Symphony of Psalms” was revised in 1948; the Shostakovich Symphony No. 4, a work that likely would have outraged Stalin, was not premiered until 1961, well after the dictator was safely dead).
Shostakovich admired the “Symphony of Psalms” enough to create a piano version of the score, which he reportedly presented to Stravinsky when the latter visited the USSR in 1962. It’s easy to understand that admiration; the music is full of subtle harmonies and spectacular scoring. In Thursday’s performance, Morlot gave the Stravinsky score a stately reverence that never lost the forward pulse, and he drew out the brilliant colors of the woodwind choirs that changed like the twist of a kaleidoscope.
An unusual feature of the “Symphony of Psalms” is the absence of both violins and violas, replaced by winds and percussion, and also by the chorus. Morlot replaced the women sopranos and altos of the Seattle Symphony Chorale with members of the Northwest Boychoir, creating an all-male chorus that sang the psalm texts eloquently. Hats off to Joseph Crnko for the chorus’ excellent preparation.
The “Symphony of Psalms” suggests uplifting hope; the Shostakovich Fourth radiates angst. The first movement proceeds with an inexorable pulse, like marching troops; there’s a sense of momentous, stately reverence, but also interruptions and extraordinary juxtapositions. A loud, cataclysmic orchestral segment is interrupted by a tentative rumination from the bassoon (Seth Krimsky), with commentary from the harps. There were string passages that buzzed like impossibly fast, angry bees, and combined orchestral passages of such overwhelming intensity that the sound levels reached the ear-splitting mark.
The emotional content of the Fourth is searing; there is an almost violent despair about some of the music, but Shostakovich also knows how to defuse this with the occasional jaunty bassoon solo or a witty little waltz section. Morlot did a fine job of leading all these side trips without losing the focus – that steady marching tread that propelled the music forward. Finally, a broadly triumphant section gave the basses a steady “lub-dub” heartbeat, which slowly flatlined.
It seemed almost rude to interrupt that final silence with applause, but it was impossible not to. The quality of the performance, the individual solo work from the musicians, and Morlot’s supercharged conducting, all made this program one of the landmarks of the season.
“Orphée et Eurydice,” opera by Christoph Willibald Gluck, with Stephen Stubbs conducting; Meany Theater, May 22.
By Melinda Bargreen
The myth of Orpheus, who pursues his beloved Eurydice into the afterlife, is as old as time.
And last weekend’s Pacific MusicWorks production of Gluck’s opera based on that story -- “Orphée et Eurydice” – is as new as fresh paint.
Presented in conjunction with the University of Washington School of Music, this “Orphée” is an imaginative amalgamation of period authenticity and contemporary innovation. Melding those two is the gold standard of opera today, when most enlightened opera producers strive to bring fresh new perspectives to historical works. This goal was harmoniously achieved in Meany Theater this past weekend.
Gluck’s 1774 “Paris version” score, rich with tuneful arias and orchestral interludes, came to life in the hands of conductor Stephen Stubbs, who gave a warm, well-paced, and surprisingly zippy account of the music. Missteps were very few in his orchestra, in which student musicians played side by side with the professionals of Stubbs’ Pacific MusicWorks production ensemble. Stubbs did a great job of balancing the sound levels between the stage and the orchestra pit; the orchestra supported but never overwhelmed the singers.
Stubbs, who also is the Grammy-winning artistic co-director of the Boston Early Music Festival, invited several of his Festival colleagues (among them stage director Gilbert Blin and tenor Aaron Sheehan) to create this “Orphée.” It’s an opera that can seem static because there’s relatively little dramatic action – but in the hands of director Blin, this show was a consistent visual delight.
Creative and beautiful projections (designed by Travis Mouffe) filled the back wall of the stage with arresting images that underscored the action. There were not only projected English translations, but also lines of French text from the libretto, which rolled onto the screen in ever-changing streams of color -- breaking apart and re-forming in various shapes as the singers sang. Rémy-Michel Trotier was the texts and supertitles designer. The action was further highlighted by Peter Bracilano’s subtle lighting design.
The opera has only three principal roles, and Orphée carries the majority of the show with a high-flying, taxing series of virtuoso arias. Aaron Sheehan was born to sing this music. Lyrical, artful, and incredibly agile, he soared through this challenging score. Valerie Vinzant was an expressive, vibrant Amour; Amanda Forsythe combined an attractive tone quality with nimble vocal flexibility as Eurydice.
Blin used the chorus and an excellent sextet of dancers to brilliantly dramatic effect, with writhing furies and stately “blessed spirits” that always supported and enhanced the music. Anna Mansbridge’s choreography was effective and beautiful. The understated costumes, by Anna Watkins, were unisex tunics and pants that reappeared in vibrant hues for the last scene – a clever touch.
Seattle Opera presents Wagner’s “The Flying Dutchman,” with staging by Christopher Alden and sets by Allen Moyer, conducted by Sebastian Lang-Lessing. McCaw Hall, 321 Mercer St., Seattle; May 7-8 (continues through May 21: 5-97, 206-389-7676 or seattleopera.org).
By Melinda Bargreen
This may well be the fastest Wagnerian opera you’ve ever heard.
And that’s not just because “The Flying Dutchman” clocks in at less than two and a half hours (without intermission). It’s because the impassioned singing actors, the clever staging, and the imaginative sets are so consistently engaging that Seattle Opera’s show just speeds by.
From the opening storm-at-sea scene, as the chorus/crew toss and roll themselves from side to side of the tilted set while the orchestra creates the pounding waves and winds, the audience is caught up in the drama and the surging music. Director Christopher Alden makes full use of the ingenious Allen Moyer set, whose elements quickly switch locales from shipboard to shore without any major breaks in the action. Anne Militello’s inventive and dramatic lighting designs underscore and clarify the story line with jaw-dropping effects.
Wagner created strong, mythical characters and gave them plenty of vocal challenges. In Saturday’s opening-night cast, the great strength and experience of the principal singers brought to the performance an unmistakable authority. The Dutchman, bass-baritone Greer Grimsley, is a familiar figure here (most impressively as Wotan in Seattle Opera’s “Ring”); he probes every nuance of the title role, as a captain doomed to sail the seas in a ghost ship until he is redeemed by true love. With Grimsley’s commanding stage presence and resonant voice, this is a role that suits him admirably, and one he has frequently sung. The experience shows.
His Senta, Australian soprano Rebecca Nash, is making her Seattle debut in this role – and what an interesting debut it is. This is a passionate singing actress with a voice of considerable heft and power. Early in the show, the vibrato sounded a bit heavy and there was a hint of strain, but later these factors vanished in an all-out effort that included fearless, thrilling high notes.
Nikolai Schukoff, as her unsuccessful and hapless suitor Erik, is an ardent singer who becomes a tragicomic figure in this staging, with exaggerated attitudes of suffering that draw some audience laughter. (Alden has him attempting suicide in several positions with a rifle whose barrel is too long for the task.) You’d think that chuckles might be inappropriate in this ultra-serious opera, but they humanize the characters and give more poignant depth to the denouement.
As Senta’s father, the sea captain Daland, Daniel Sumegi creates a memorable portrayal with his mighty voice and his deft acting. Colin Ainsworth is a lyrical Steersman and a highly effective actor; Luretta Bybee does fine work in the shorter role of Mary.
The chorus is simply terrific, whether their task involves grappling with the high seas, roistering in celebration afterwards, or engaging in some cleverly stylized spinning. There’s no room for error in these fast-moving scenes, and the chorus manages all the synchronized action while singing remarkably well (a tip of the hat to chorusmaster John Keene).
Conductor Sebastian Lang-Lessing, who made his Seattle debut with the company’s 2014 International Wagner Competition, got vivid and exciting performances from an orchestra that knows this composer inside and out.
Sunday’s alternate cast, as sometimes happens, created a show that was remarkably different. In the title role, Alfred Walker was a strong actor with a warm tone that didn’t quite have the heroic presence that Wagner requires. Wendy Bryn Harmer was a standout Senta with a big, radiant voice; David Danholt (one of the winners of Seattle Opera’s 2014 International Wagner Competition) sang with artful clarity as the hapless Erik.
On Sunday, however, lighter moments onstage were fewer; the atmosphere in the audience seemed less engaged; and, oddly, the counterpoint of numerous audience cellphones tinkling their merry melodies during the show was considerably more extensive. Perhaps it was a barrage of Mother’s Day greetings, but no matter what the day, silence is golden in an opera audience.
The Seattle Symphony Orchestra’s “Baroque and Wine” series, with conductor/soloist Dmitry Sinkovsky; Benaroya Hall, Friday, May 6, repeated at 8 p.m. May 5
By Melinda Bargreen
It’s not at all unusual to encounter a violin soloist who also conducts the orchestra, particularly in the baroque repertoire. It’s considerably more unusual, however, to hear a countertenor who sings and also conducts.
And it’s downright startling to have a conductor whose program includes his own solos on both violin and voice. That’s what a wildly enthusiastic audience for the Seattle Symphony “Baroque and Wine” series heard on Friday evening, when conductor/soloist Dmitry Sinkovsky arrived in Benaroya Hall.
First, it must be said that Sinkovsky did not play the violin and sing at the same time, though I wouldn’t put it past him. The Moscow-born virtuoso chose a program that alternated between two violin concerti of Vivaldi, three countertenor arias (one by Albinoni, two by Handel), and two works for orchestra without soloist. In that last category were a Corelli Concerto Grosso (Op. 6, No. 11) and a Locatelli Concerto Grosso (Op. 7, No. 6, “Il pianto d’Arianna”).
A dashing, pony-tailed figure onstage, Sinkovsky galvanized the audience with his expressive violin, as he moved about the stage facing first the Symphony musicians and then the audience. In the countertenor solos, he made only the most minimal conducting gestures, but these orchestra players are old hands at forging their own ensemble. With a strong lead from concertmaster Elisa Barston, and an equally prominent voice in the principal cello chair (Meeka Quan-DiLorenzo), the 20-piece ensemble sailed through the program with very few rocky moments.
Guest harpsichordist Jillon Stoppels Dupree had a crucial role in the program; she played with improvisatory flair and great taste. The other principals, all excellent, included Michael Miropolsky (second violin), Mara Gearman (viola), and Joseph Kaufman (bass).
Sinkovsky’s intonation was occasionally variable, both as violinist and as singer, and in the quieter vocal pieces (such as Albinoni’s “Pianta bella”), his voice can sound breathy and unsupported. Elsewhere, though, his vocal passagework was impressive and accurate, displaying solid technical finesse. Sinkovsky’s performance of Handel’s “Furibondo spira il vento” (from “Partenope”) was appropriately fiery and agile.
The “Baroque and Wine” series audience is not always the Symphony’s most demonstrative, but this time there was an ovation for every piece, complete with shouts and whistles. Sinkovsky launched into the encores, which included excerpts from Vivaldi’s “The Four Seasons” and Handel’s “Rodelinda,” and then some Telemann – and they might still be playing as you read this, except that the Symphony members very sensibly arose and exited the stage after the last planned encore.
“Two Nineteenth Century Masses,” presented by Orcas Choral Society, with orchestra and soloists under the direction of conductor Roger Sherman; St. Mark’s Cathedral, May 1.
By Melinda Bargreen
In the world of classical music, it is easy to develop a sort of “tunnel vision” that focuses almost exclusively on the top tier of fully professional ensembles – orchestra, chamber, choral, operatic.
And sometimes we forget about the very great degree of pleasure that can come from music organizations outside of the “majors,” particularly when the performances are polished and the repertoire is intriguing.
You can’t get much more intriguing than an 1826 Missa Solemnis, unearthed from a box of manuscripts in possession of the great-great-granddaughter of Prague pharmacist and composer Alois Storch, performed in possibly its first production by the Orcas Choral Society under the direction of Roger Sherman. Following two concerts April 23 and 24 on Orcas Island, the Orcas Choral Society and an orchestra of Orcas and Seattle-area players arrived in St. Mark’s Cathedral for the Seattle premiere May 1.
A large and receptive crowd was on hand in the Cathedral, a space perfectly suited to this production – with its resonant acoustics, its lengthy reverb, and the sense of majesty that accorded well with the repertoire. The Storch Missa Solemnis in C Major was paired with a better-known, early Mass in G Major (D.167) of Storch’s famous contemporary Franz Schubert for this program.
We know that Schubert composed his D.167 Mass at the age of 18, in a five-day burst of inspiration. We have no idea how long it took Storch to complete his somewhat longer Missa Solemnis, or whether it was ever performed during his lifetime. But hearing the two masses side by side made it clear that Storch’s work was eminently worthy of this pairing; that it is an inventive and imaginative composition, and that the orchestral scoring makes adept and creative use of a surprising spectrum of brass and winds and timpani. The word-painting is highly colorful, with a triumphant “Et resurrexit” to contrast with the poignant “Et incarnatus est.”
Some of the chord progressions are a bit exotic, even startling, and there were some ear-opening modulations in the “Dona nobis pacem” before the final fugue. The choral writing is so high (including high Cs for the sopranos, virtually unheard-of in repertoire of this genre) that some choruses may need to equip themselves with a helium tank for inhalation before certain stratospheric passages. (This expedient was not necessary in the Seattle performance, however.) But as a whole, the Storch Missa Solemnis is a remarkable success – one that bodes well for a planned resuscitation and transcription of more works from the large box of manuscripts inherited by the composer’s great-great granddaughter, the oboist and author Laila Storch.
Roger Sherman’s clear, expressive conducting was a key factor in the success of the performance, drawing a good, solid sound from the expressive chorus and a well-balanced, responsive orchestra. The vocal soloists included soprano Sharon Abreu, alto Ginni Keith, tenor Stephen Rumph, and bass John Heath. Abreu’s soprano was remarkable for its clarity, even at high altitudes, and Rumph was an absolute standout in his virtuoso solos, which were negotiated with an almost operatic zest.
It was Laila Storch’s husband, the violinist Martin Friedmann, who made it his goal to bring her great-great-grandfather’s music out of the box and into the concert hall. And it was composer/conductor Adam Stern who deserves kudos for his painstaking transcription of the handwritten manuscript into modern notation software that made the printing of readable orchestral and choral scores possible. A chorus of “bravos” to all of them, and to the spirited performers who brought these long-silent notes to vivid life.
The Seattle Symphony Orchestra, “Tchaikovsky: Romeo and Juliet,” with Ludovic Morlot, conductor, and tenor soloist Mark Padmore; Benaroya Hall, April 21, 2016.
By Melinda Bargreen
The Seattle Symphony has brought a little night music to Benaroya Hall in its current program, which offers two classics and two seldom-heard works relating to nocturnal themes. The Thursday-night audience heard an imaginative, well-played concert under the direction of music director Ludovic Morlot.
Two of the works – both overtures -- are familiar to symphonic fans: Mendelssohn’s sparkling Overture to “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” and Tchaikovsky’s instantly recognizable “Romeo and Juliet Fantasy Overture.” The other two works, both products of the 20th century, are considerably less familiar, and were an ear-opening new experience for many in Benaroya Hall.
The only reason to program Britten’s song cycle “Nocturne” is the availability of a first-rate tenor, and the Symphony definitely had one in the evening’s soloist, Mark Padmore. The quintessential English tenor, Padmore has won acclaim for all kinds of repertoire, from early music and baroque works through music of our own time. Padmore is an extraordinarily expressive singer. His wide range, vocal agility, tone quality and musicality make him an ideal choice for the Britten.
Padmore negotiated the angular lines of this complex score with alacrity and finesse, with conductor Ludovic Morlot providing well-balanced and supportive orchestral accompaniment. The exquisitely lyrical music written for such lines as “She dreams of golden gardens” (Wilfred Owen’s “The Kind Ghosts”), and the anguish of Wordsworth’s “Sleep no more!” (in “The Prelude”) were vividly realized in Padmore’s performance. Several orchestral principal players provided particularly beautiful solo work, with Stefan Farkas’ English horn among the most memorable.
The tenor returned for some brief, telling solos in Karol Szymanowski’s vast “Song of the Night” (Symphony No. 3), a massively scored work premiered in 1928. The Benaroya Hall stage was stuffed with extra players, extra instruments, and the Seattle Symphony Chorale on risers, all supported by the Watjen Organ and occasionally rising to volume levels that may have approached a new decibel record for the hall.
If you are thinking a tenor soloist might not have much of a chance to be heard above these forces, you would be right – but Padmore was impressive all the same, rising above the dense chords and constantly shifting textures whenever it was humanly possible. The evening’s concertmaster, Elisa Barston, played the extensive violin solos admirably.
Finally, when the crowds of performers left the stage after the Szymanowski, we heard Morlot conduct the piece that provided the title for this program: Tchaikovsky’s “Romeo and Juliet Fantasy Overture.” It felt like an afterthought after such a big-moment work, but the sheer beauty of Tchaikovsky’s well-worn score showed that in the world of symphonic music, size doesn’t really matter.
Murray Perahia, pianist, in President’s Piano Series recital, Meany World Series; April 20, 2016.
By Melinda Bargreen
When Murray Perahia is in town, the piano cognoscenti come out to listen.
Perahia has been an occasional but always sought-after visitor to Seattle for more than three decades, establishing himself as an extraordinarily imaginative and intelligent pianist who connects deeply with music lovers. His Wednesday recital at Meany Theater, offering a big program full of masterpieces, was one of the most consistently intriguing and inspiring of Perahia’s Seattle performances – and that’s really saying something.
No fuss, no gimmicks, no world premieres or exotica: the program, which began with Haydn and Mozart, went on to a Brahms set and wound up the evening with Beethoven’s magisterial “Hammerklavier” Sonata. The audience heard the limpid clarity of the opening statement of Haydn’s Andante and Variations in F Minor, and sat back for a remarkable ride. Full of elegant nuances and fleet-fingered ornaments, this reading stressed clarity of line, and rose to a soaring beauty that made you wonder why this piece isn’t heard more often.
Perahia built the Haydn performance and the works that followed with a series of thousands of tiny, crucial decisions – all of them uniquely the pianist’s own. Do you ease into a note, give it a gentle bounce, stress it slightly, separate it or meld it into the larger phrase? How loud, how soft, how much contrast with what precedes and follows a chord? How do you craft the overall arc of the piece? Somehow Perahia never takes the obvious path. Instead, he finds new answers to these questions, creating probing and dramatic interpretations that give listeners something to think about in every phrase. He is a master of timing; an infinitesimal pause when you’re not expecting it will bring the listener up short, making the following phrase sound extra significant.
Perahia’s Haydn opener was succeeded by a stormy Mozart sonata, the No. 8 in A Minor (K.310), composed during a difficult time (a disappointing concert tour during which Mozart’s mother died). Perahia brought out the tension and restless energy of the score, along with the sonata’s more touchingly lyrical elements.
An expressive and graceful Brahms set – five late pieces by that Romantic-era composer -- extended from the G Major Ballade through three Intermezzi of Op. 118 and 119 (with a slight reversal of the program order in the two Op. 119 pieces), and finally the Capriccio in D Minor (Op. 116, No. 1). For the Brahms, the pianist was all warmth and spontaneity, giving some of the works an airy freedom. The only misjudged passages came in the Capriccio, which emerged a bit too furiously for accuracy.
The program’s last half presented Beethoven’s famous “Hammerklavier” Sonata (No. 29), a huge and demanding four-movement masterpiece that presents great technical and interpretive challenges. Both magisterial and mercurial, this score veers from massive declarative statements to passages of surprising serenity. It represents Beethoven at his most tempestuous, and Perahia’s interpretation was so fresh that it sounded as if he were improvising on the spot. Among the most revelatory highlights were the deep emotion of the lengthy and complex third movement, and the fourth movement’s contrasts between tentative questing and wildly heroic statements.
The level of technique, energy, commitment, intensity and imagination in this playing would be difficult to overstate. The final chords brought an eruption of approval from the audience, bringing Perahia back to the stage several times – hand over heart to indicate his appreciation of the ovation.
Gil Shaham, violinist, in Meany World Series recital: Bach’s Six Solos, the Sonatas and Partitas. Meany Theater, April 16.
By Melinda Bargreen
The works of J.S. Bach for solo instruments have always inspired a unique reverence in musicians and their audiences. Cellists return again and again to the famous cello suites, often changing their minds about interpretation (Janos Starker recorded them five times). Pianists and harpsichordists are obsessed by the great Goldberg Variations and the Well-Tempered Clavier.
And as Gil Shaham did on Saturday evening in Meany Theater, violinists choose the six solo works – three Sonatas and three Partitas – as their artistic calling card, their way of saying “This is who I am as a musician.” Shaham’s recital, which paired his remarkable playing with David Michalek’s original films displayed overhead on a large screen, made a musical statement that can stand with the very best.
A highly regarded player in all kinds of repertoire, Shaham has a way with solo Bach that is distinctly his own. Each phrase was shaped by his infinitely pliant bow, sometimes slowly questing and searching, and sometimes joyfully taking off like a startled reebok.
Using a baroque-style “set-up” with gut strings, a higher bridge (which holds the strings in place), and a baroque bow with more space between the hair and the stick, Shaham shaped his phrases with a minimum of vibrato, which he used sparingly as an expressive device. Apart from a few minor misjudged intervals, the playing was uncannily accurate. His ornamentation was imaginative and subtle.
The program had three parts (each with a Sonata and a Partita) and two intermissions. Many of the individual movements, but not all of them, unfolded to the accompaniment of very slow-motion films designed “spark the kinesthetic vision of each viewer” (as Michalek observed in the program). Among the subjects of the little mini-films were a tender scene of mother and children, a white bird with rippling feathers, a girl in a red dress dancing, a pair of winsome young violinists, and a woman reading an apparently revelatory letter.
Did the films add to the music? In some respects, certainly. For music lovers, however, there’s also the sense that these great works are best heard as an auditory experience without the need for any extra visual enhancements. Sometimes the format seemed to place the violinist in the role of soundtrack provider, rather than soloist. For some movements of the sonatas and partitas, there was no accompanying film, making you wonder what there was about this specific movement that left the screen blank.
In the program essay, Shaham has said that his focus on these Bach works has fundamentally changed the way he holds the bow, the way he holds the violin, and the way he puts his fingers down: “I’ve found myself questioning everything.” The results on Saturday at Meany made it clear that this journey was more than worthwhile. Shaham’s interpretations are searching, thought-provoking, deeply musical, and on a technical level beyond the dreams of most players.
There was no encore; after such a program, an encore would have been superfluous, like adding a hat to the Mona Lisa.
Seattle Symphony, with guest conductor David Zinman, and violin soloist Patricia Kopatchinskaja; Benaroya Hall, April 7.
By Melinda Bargreen
Two new faces, and some remarkable music: the Seattle Symphony’s current subscription program offered inspiring performances in the first of two concerts led by conductor David Zinman.
It seems odd to consider Zinman (who turns 80 in July) as a debutant; he is renowned around the world, but this was his first time on the Seattle Symphony podium. Leaning against and occasionally sitting on a tall stool, Zinman gave the good-sized audience a gracefully nuanced curtain-raiser in Mussorgsky’s Introduction to “Khovantchina” (orchestrated by Rimsky-Korsakov). He went on to accompany the evening’s soloist, Patricia Kopatchinskaja, in a high-voltage account of the Prokofiev Violin Concerto No. 2, and finally presented a sumptuous reading of the mighty Brahms Fourth Symphony.
He’s a master of control. Zinman brought the orchestra down to an exquisitely quiet ending to the Mussorgsky, and drew out mighty brass climaxes in the Brahms. In between he partnered the volatile and expressive Kopatchinskaja in a performance of the Prokofiev that was as mercurial as you’re likely to hear.
The Moldavian-Austrian soloist does the Prokofiev like a theater piece, attacking and retreating, and expressing every line of the music in her face and body. Attired in an unusual flame-colored dress adorned with white strings, she created an amazing span of sonorities, from rich and voluptuous warmth to edgy, eerie attacks. Kopatchinskaja acted out the phrases, crouching and springing up as she played. (Unusually, she used a score for the performance, though it was clear from her performance that she knew and had considered every line in the concerto.)
An extended ovation brought Kopatchinskaja back for an encore. Praising the evening’s excellent concertmaster Elisa Barston, the soloist joined Barston in a rousing version of Prokofiev’s Sonata for Two Violins (second movement) that sounded polished enough to take on the road.
The Fourth is the last of Brahms’ symphonies and a great audience favorite, with one delicious theme after another, and Zinman brought them all forth with a sure hand. His conducting style is direct and unfussy; except for a few minor ensemble and intonation issues, the orchestra followed him with alacrity and vigor.
Among so many beautiful orchestral-solo passages, there were a few standouts: flutist Jeffrey Barker’s crucial, eloquent flute solos in the fourth movement were particularly memorable. Second clarinetist Laura DeLuca stepped up to the principal spot for the evening, turning in polished performances (and exceptionally fine solo work in the Brahms).
The Symphony is apparently drawing in new audiences, judging from the size of the house on Thursday -- and from the smattering of applause between movements, not usually heard in these concerts. It’s great to see that kind of outreach for a program like this one; it’s a concert likely to win converts.
Seattle Symphony, with conductor Thomas Dausgaard, March 10, 2016.
When a symphony orchestra is trimmed down to Classical-era size and conducted with a master hand, the results can sound like first-rate chamber music.
That is the case with the current Seattle Symphony program, where principal guest conductor Thomas Dausgaard led an inspiring all-Viennese program on Thursday evening. It was the first of three performances that combined the refined elegance of a Haydn symphony and a Mozart piano concerto with the more opulent strains of early Schoenberg.
The communication between conductor and ensemble was intriguing to watch. In the opening Haydn Symphony No. 88, Dausgaard set a clear tempo, but then concerned himself less with beating time and more with drawing the sound out of the players with the most expressive repertoire of gestures. The Haydn was both stately and rambunctious, full of color and energy; no phrase sounded routine.
The performance featured huge contrasts in dynamics, from powerful statements to a sound that was refined right down to a whisper. Among the loveliest moments were the second-movement duet passages between cellist Efe Baltacigil and oboist Ben Hausmann, perfectly attuned to each other. The light, fleet finale had the character of a Mozart opera overture, full of bubbly exuberance.
The evening’s soloist, Boris Giltburg, joined the ensemble for Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 23 in A Major (K.488), in a performance remarkable for its quality and subtlety of touch. In the opening movement, Giltburg created an intimate sonic world, touching the keys with a surprisingly soft-focus delicacy. His phrasing combined an unusual clarity and finesse, and Dausgaard drew an almost transparent sound from the orchestra that never overpowered the soloist. The joyously buoyant finale was a wonderful contrast.
Here was a concerto performance that sounded fully coordinated, with less of a sense of soloist/accompaniment, and more of an impression of genuine partnership.
The presence on a program of Arnold Schoenberg is not necessarily reassuring to symphony audiences, and there were some empty seats in the hall after intermission, when Schoenberg’s “Verklärte Nacht” (“Transfigured Night”) was to be performed. Schoenberg is most famous for his more thorny later works in the atonal/serialist style, not usually considered audience catnip. “Verklärte Nacht,” however, is an early work strongly influenced by Wagner, full of beautiful harmonies and composed after a romantic poem. Schoenberg revised his original 1899 string-sextet version for string orchestra, and that’s the version heard in this program.
Dausgaard and 29 orchestra members gave the piece a transfigured performance, one of refined beauty and incredible tonal variety – from a bare thread of edgy sound to rich organ-like chords, with a forward impulse that made you lean forward to listen. It was a time to reflect with great pleasure on the fact that Dausgaard has just renewed his Seattle contract through 2020.
Seattle Symphony presents “Baroque and Wine,” with conductor Stephen Cleobury and the Northwest Boychoir, March 4, 2016.
The British conductor/choirmaster/organist Stephen Cleobury needs no introduction to music lovers who have heard his great King’s College Choir, which he has conducted for more than 25 years. The Cambridge (UK) choir is particularly ubiquitous at Christmas time, when its many recordings inhabit the airwaves of radio, television, and even the shopping malls.
In his current visit to Seattle, Cleobury is demonstrating his versatility as both conductor/choirmaster (March 4-5) and organist (March 7, in a full recital), both at Benaroya Hall. The opening program on March 4, imaginatively chosen and beautifully performed, showed why Cleobury is so admired: minimum fuss, maximum artistic impact. Succinct gestures, attentive cueing, and careful details lifted a very mixed bag of a “Baroque and Wine” program into something quite special, with a small ensemble of Seattle Symphony musicians and the excellent Northwest Boychoir.
The Boychoir, directed for the past 30 years by Joseph Crnko, has become a beloved Northwest fixture, partly through its many annual performances of the Christmas “Festival of Lessons and Carols” (an observance patterned on the tradition begun by Cleobury’s King’s College Choir). On Friday evening, the Boychoir responded to Cleobury’s baton with singing of exceptional clarity and balance, imposing unity, precise diction and a soaring lyricism that equaled the boys on the other side of the Atlantic.
The “Baroque and Wine” program was officially titled “Brandenburg Concerto No. 3,” after its most famous segment, the third of Bach’s six Brandenburg Concertos. This work was given a spirited and highly entertaining performance by an 11-member ensemble of Seattle Symphony players, and got the biggest applause of the evening. But the major piece on the program was the 41-minute “Stabat Mater” of Giovanni Battista Pergolesi, who composed this choral/orchestral setting of a medieval text in 1736 (a couple of decades after the Third Brandenburg).
Full of intriguing, plangent harmonies, the “Stabat Mater” also offers some brilliant vocal solos and duets; these were taken by soprano Maria Mannisto and alto Danielle Sampson, both offering virtuoso technique and completely different tone quality, but nonetheless blending remarkably well. The Northwest Boychoir members brought warmly to life the choral sections expressing grief at the death of Christ, and the hope of eternity in paradise. [NOTE: The performance of Maria Mannisto, a late substitution for a previously announced soprano, was incorrectly credited in print. She sang with exquisite tone quality and clarity.]
Cleobury’s March 7 organ recital will span a great divide: selections from Bach’s early “Clavier-Übung, Part 3,” and a 20th-century work of the young Olivier Messiaen, “La Nativité du Seigneur.” Fans of the “king of instruments” will not often have a chance to hear a recital like this one; in his notes, Cleobury has called portions of the Messiaen “almost deliriously ecstatic.”
Seattle Opera presents “Maria Stuarda” (“Mary Stuart”), Donizetti opera, February 25-26, 2016).
By Melinda Bargreen
Opera is all about drama and voice. But in Seattle Opera’s first-ever production of Donizetti’s “Mary Stuart” (“Maria Stuarda”), there was a little more drama than usual about the voice in the title role. The opening-night Mary Stuart, Serena Farnocchio, was indisposed – which meant that the alternate soprano, Joyce El-Khoury, would have to sing not only Saturday night’s opening performance, but Sunday afternoon’s as well.
That’s a lot of Donizetti, and a lot of high notes, within a span of only about 21 hours. And it’s a reminder of how fortunate we are in Seattle that the company double-casts its leading roles; Mary Stuart sopranos are in fairly short supply.
Saturday’s opener was highly enjoyable, a costume drama with lots of fiery energy from the opposing queens – El-Khoury’s Mary Stuart and her victorious rival Elizabeth I, sung by Mary Elizabeth Williams. The Neil Patel sets were spare and functional but only slightly suggestive of Tudor magnificence, except for an opulent ceiling and a huge painting. Jessica Jahn’s costumes offered elegant attire for the principals, but an especially subdued palette for the chorus, in an era noted for the magnificent outfits of Elizabethan courtiers. But the strong personalities in play on the stage offered all the visual and vocal drama an audience could require.
Williams’ Elizabeth, who took center stage on opening night, was a memorable portrayal from this former Seattle Opera Young Artist who has appeared in several leading roles here. Feisty and mighty, Williams’ soprano was equally impressive when she lightened it in moments of highly effective refinement. She knows how to command the stage and how to establish the power of her personality through gesture and movement, as well as by her voice.
As Leicester, Elizabeth’s favorite who is secretly in love with her rival Mary, tenor John Tessier gave a beautifully finished and vocally elegant performance of what must be one of the most hapless roles in opera. (He repeatedly praises Mary’s beauty to her outraged royal rival; you can bet the real Leicester would not have been so maladroit.)
On Saturday night, El-Khoury scored a triumph in the title role, combining an exquisite delicacy of sound with affecting vulnerability – yet producing plenty of steel in the confrontation scene in which she denounces Elizabeth as a “vil bastarda.”
On Sunday, few in the house realized that El-Khoury had just sung this taxing role the previous evening – and you couldn’t tell it from her Sunday performance, either. Skillfully saving her voice when she could, singing full-out when it counted, El-Khoury rallied for a remarkable show and a final mighty effort, a brave high D. Brava!
Singing alongside El-Khoury on Sunday was Keri Alkema as a stellar Elizabeth, who began the show with a fairly heavy vibrato but rose to wonderfully incisive, powerful singing as the show went on. Her Leicester, Andrew Owens, initially sounded a bit underpowered, but he brought a touching urgency to his scenes with El-Khoury’s Mary.
Supporting roles were exceptionally well taken by Weston Hurt (an empathetic Talbot) and Michael Todd Simpson (a steely, majestic Cecil). Renée Rapier was a fine Hannah.
Kevin Newbury’s canny staging had the two rival queens circling each other like sleek jungle cats, building the excitement to their ultimate confrontation. His deployment of the chorus was less thrilling; the courtiers often milled about like a school of drab fish. The chorus, prepared by John Keene, was absolutely riveting, however, in the last act, with powerful singing and memorable dramatic impact. D.M. Wood’s lighting created some brilliant effects, most vivid of which was the eerily backlit, spectral appearance of Mary in the last act.
The buoyant, vital conducting of Carlo Montanaro, always one of the most accomplished of opera conductors, underscored this production’s artistic values with careful attention to the singers and hefty doses of musical drama.
Seattle Symphony, Berio “Sinfonia,” with Ludovic Morlot, conductor, piano soloist Yefim Bronfman, and the ensemble “Roomful of Teeth”; Benaroya Hall, February 4, 2016.
By Melinda Bargreen
What a mammoth undertaking: Berio’s complicated, intentionally impenetrable “Sinfonia” in five movements that create a sonic spectrum unlike any other. The Seattle Symphony’s current production – and production is indeed the word – brings together the full orchestra plus extra players and the virtuoso vocal octet Roomful of Teeth, for a performance that may entrance, bewilder, and even irritate. But you won’t forget it.
The performance was preceded by another innovation: a short film, displayed on a huge screen above the stage. In the film, Morlot explains his views of “Sinfonia” and its musical elements that build up layers and textures of sound, and voices that meld with the instrumental fabric. Among his points: Berio’s use of vocal text is like opera (“You know the story and the words don’t matter so much,” a statement that drew some laughter, possibly from listeners who think that the words in opera do matter). The film is a good compromise measure, allowing the conductor to prepare and express his thoughts on this remarkable score without the pressure and distraction of live performance.
For the performance, the eight singers and their microphones were positioned inside the orchestra, producing sounds that ranged from mere whispers to moments of unearthly beauty. There’s just about everything in that score: syllables of text from Beckett’s “The Unnameable,” exhortations to “stop!” and “keep going!,” a spoken thank-you to the conductor, an eloquent and otherworldly memorial to Dr. Martin Luther King.
The most remarkable section of “Sinfonia” is probably the third. It is composed atop Mahler’s Scherzo movement from his Symphony No. 2, incorporating so many musical quotations that it’s a “name that tune” fest for orchestra fans: snippets of Ravel’s “La Valse,” Debussy's “La Mer,” and Stravinsky's “Rite of Spring,” among many others. A veritable ocean of sound, it rises and crashes and is full of musical undercurrents.
Ever since the work’s 1970 premiere, it’s always a question -- what to program alongside the vast kaleidoscope of the Berio “Sinfonia.” For this concert’s first half, Morlot and the Symphony presented two works from preceding centuries: Strauss’ heroic “Don Juan” tone poem (1889) and Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 2 (1795). The Strauss had a few uneven entrances, but splendid spirit and fine solo work from many of the featured principals (including acting concertmaster Elisa Barston, oboist Mary Lynch, flutist Jeffrey Barker, clarinetist Ralph Skiano, and hornist Jeff Fair).
Pianist Yefim Bronfman was the evening’s soloist, in the Beethoven Piano Concerto No. 2. The composer told his publisher that this concerto was “not one of my best,” but you’d never know it from this performance. Bronfman, who is famous as one of the mightiest keyboard technicians playing today, demonstrated finesse instead of thunder-power, performing with revelatory delicacy and nuance. An enthusiastic ovation brought him back to the stage for a jaunty encore: the second movement of Prokofiev’s Piano Sonata No. 2.
Seattle Chamber Music Society’s Winter Festival, Jan. 22
By Melinda Bargreen
In the beginning there was Bach, and James Ehnes.
You couldn’t ask for a more illustrious start to a festival. Ehnes, the internationally celebrated violinist who heads the Seattle Chamber Music Society, opened this year’s Winter Festival with an eloquent reading of Bach’s solo Violin Sonata in G Minor. Music lovers drank in Ehnes’ eloquent performance – the purity of his phrasing, the precision of his intonation, and the power of his interpretation.
Clean, elegant lines and effortless playing made listeners forget what an athletic feat it really is to play at this level, with four Bach movements culminating in a sizzling, speedy finale that pushed at the boundaries of what is possible on the violin. The music waxed and waned so naturally, and Ehnes made this lyrical virtuosity sound so easy. The audience responded with an ovation that made it clear everyone was well aware that they were hearing something rare and spectacular.
The concert that followed brought Ehnes back to the stage, this time with pianist Andrew Armstrong, in a sonata from the other end of the violin spectrum: Bartok’s searing Sonata No. 1, a work of tremendous intensity and rough-hewn energy. Contrast was the key here, with Ehnes refining his sound in the second movement down to a mere thread, before the two players launched the wild, violent ride of the final Allegro.
All this blazing intensity was balanced by the works that bracketed the Bartok: Mozart’s charming and well-mannered Flute Quartet in C Major (K.285b), and Schubert’s buoyant, tuneful Piano Trio in E-Flat Major (Op. 100). The Mozart benefited from the spirited, graceful performance of flutist Lorna McGhee, partnered by a stylish trio of strings: Erin Keefe (violin), Rebecca Albers (viola), and Robert deMaine (cello).
The Schubert trio gives the cellist the nicest lines, and Edward Arron made the most of these in a beautifully detailed, expressive performance. Alexander Kerr was an able but more understated partner on the violin; Max Levinson’s fluent, nicely judged piano supported the strings without receding too far into the background. This long four-movement trio, like other late Schubert works, merits the comment made in another context by fellow composer Robert Schumann, who referred to Schubert’s “heavenly length.” The E-Flat Major Trio does go on, and themes appear and reappear, but always in slightly new guises, and – in the hands of players like these – impressive new levels of interpretive finesse.
The Nordstrom Recital Hall was packed for this opening recital and concert, and tickets are reportedly in very short supply for several of the concerts that follow. No wonder: these are enticing programs, and it’s a long time till the 35th Summer Festival in July.
Mozart’s “The Marriage of Figaro,” presented by Seattle Opera; directed by Aidan Lang, with Gary Thor Wedow conducting. Jan. 16-17 (through Jan. 30).
By Melinda Bargreen
Just listening to the effervescent overture that launches Mozart’s “The Marriage of Figaro” is enough to set the pulses racing. What a great score: one hit after another, especially when displayed in a lively Seattle Opera production that just might be the fastest three and a half hours you’ve ever spent in an opera house.
This “Figaro” is the handiwork of Seattle Opera’s general director Aidan Lang, who created the production as stage director during his tenure with New Zealand Opera. Fast-moving, spontaneous, and cheeky, this is a show with comic verve, but it’s also a show that makes you think. What’s really going on with all these elaborate ruses to indulge in, and conceal, infidelity? What does it take for the characters to learn how to really value each other?
Probing these issues and doing justice to the great Mozartean score requires a terrific ensemble cast, and Seattle Opera has put together two of them. All five of the major roles -- the Count, the Countess, Figaro and his bride Susanna, and the amorous adolescent Cherubino -- are double cast, and no fewer than five cast members are graduates of the now-suspended Seattle Opera Young Artists program. (If ever there was an argument for restarting that program, this production surely makes it.)
This “Figaro” is full of imaginative activity. An Act I ensemble scene takes place against a kitchen backdrop of maids who are chopping and peeling, and a later solo rumination by the Count unfolds while servants are scrubbing walls and floors. The clever set, designed by Robin Rawstorne, uses moving walls and floors to display consecutive rooms in cross-section, so the cast’s action is always clear. (The various spaces created by these moving walls, however, sometimes had the occasional odd acoustical repercussions.)
The opening-night show on Saturday boasted the dashing, resonant Figaro of Chinese star Shenyang, opposite the commandingly nuanced Susanna of Nuccia Focile; suave firebrand Morgan Smith as the Count, and Bernarda Bobro as his delicate-voiced but exquisite Countess. Karin Mushegain was vocally and physically nimble as a particularly athletic Cherubino.
All five brought strong personalities to the stage. Smith was particularly successful as the Count, a wonderful blend of the seductive, the boorish, the bewildered, and the repentant. Focile’s Susanna was both spontaneous and polished in every detail. All the cast looked great in Elizabeth Whiting’s imaginative clothes, which combined frock coats and denim with high-topped tennis shoes. Two of the cast members, however, appeared to have visited the hairdresser of the late Imelda Marcos between the acts, emerging with giant dark pompadours.
The smaller roles were all well taken by singing actors worthy of more major parts: Arthur Woodley as Dr. Bartolo, Margaret Gawrysiak as Marcellina, Charles Robert Austin as Antonio, Steven Cole as Don Basilio, Alasdair Elliott as Don Curzio, and Amanda Opuszynski as Barbarina.
The opening-night casting created one of the funniest “reveal” scenes any “Figaro” could boast. The discovery that Marcellina and Dr. Bartolo are actually Figaro’s long-lost parents is always greeted with dumbfounded disbelief onstage. In this cast, Marcellina is white, Bartolo is African-American, and Figaro is Chinese – so that revelation drew some extra-hilarious incredulity.
On Sunday, the zesty second cast took a back seat to nobody, with a completely different ensemble full of great voices and vivid interactions. Laura Tatulescu’s feisty Susanna and John Moore’s complex Count were standouts, but keeping right up with them were Caitlin Lynch’s warm-voiced Countess, Aubrey Allicock’s mellifluous and funny Figaro, and Elizabeth Pojanowski’s ardent Cherubino.
Director Lang keeps both casts bubbling with nonstop action, and he isn’t afraid to push the characters a bit: the Count expresses exasperation by kicking one of the servants, and Cherubino is almost exhaustingly amorous. The ensemble scenes are vividly effective, with none of the “stand there and sing” direction that so often afflicts Mozart opera.
Conductor Gary Thor Wedow, whose previous work at Seattle Opera has always been both energetic and stylish, returned to deliver a well-paced, brilliantly-played show. Philip Kelsey’s fortepiano continuo – just the right instrument, too, a wonderful Anton Walter replica -- cleverly knit together the recitatives, arias, and orchestral tuttis into a seamless whole.
Jonathan Dean’s translated captions, wittily updated, added an extra punch to the dialogue. The chorus, whisked on and off the stage for brief vignettes, sang with spirit.
Garrick Ohlsson, pianist, in President’s Piano Series recital; Meany Theater, January 12, 2016.
By Melinda Bargreen
Tuesday night marked the sixteenth appearance in Meany Theater for internationally renowned pianist Garrick Ohlsson.
Judging from the rapturous response of the large audience, Seattle is definitely ready for a seventeenth recital.
When Ohlsson arrives to play the President’s Piano Series, it’s always a special occasion, and Tuesday evening’s program was especially tasty: a great Beethoven sonata (the Op. 110), a Chopin set (including the great Ballade No. 1), and Mussorgsky’s spectacular “Pictures at an Exhibition” to round things off. Audiences always look forward especially to Ohlsson’s Chopin; he launched his career in 1970 by winning the Chopin International Piano Competition, and has been closely associated with that composer ever since.
Certainly the Chopin works on Ohlsson’s Meany recital were among the high points: a Scherzo (No. 4) of near-impossible clarity, two sparkling Etudes (Nos. 5 and 6), and a deceptively dulcet Nocturne in C Minor that rose in complexity and power. The grand finale of the Chopin set was the great Ballade No. 1 in G Minor (a favorite of the late Vladimir Horowitz), which started as a quiet, dulcet reverie and then rolled out of the keyboard like a mighty and unstoppable river.
What a sound! Ohlsson is famous for that great sonority, though he never seems to be working very hard to produce it. There are no histrionics, no flailing or thumping or grandstanding, just an incredible technique with razor-sharp accuracy, producing a sound so lush it almost glistens.
After the Chopin came Mussorgsky’s great “Pictures at an Exhibition,” which is also familiar to orchestra-concert audiences in the version orchestrated by Ravel. Purists love the original piano score, though, for its marvelous energy and its edgy zest – particularly when it is played by a soloist who seems able to compress an entire orchestra into the soundboard of his grand piano.
“Pictures” is a set of musical vignettes based on an 1874 exhibition of drawings and watercolors by the composer’s short-lived friend, artist Victor Hartmann. The music brings to life the images in the exhibition, from an old castle and a lumbering oxcart to children at play and a fairytale witch from Russian folklore. In between, a “promenade” theme carries the listener from picture to picture, culminating in a grandiose finale depicting the Great Gate of Kiev.
Ohlsson’s interpretation was both fleet-fingered and highly individualistic (his oxcart, for example, was somehow both faster and more massive than usual), and his grandiose finale was the stuff of high drama. Not surprisingly, the audience leaped up for an ovation that brought Ohlsson back to the stage several times before offering a single encore: Enrique Granados’ bittersweet, exquisitely simple little “Spanish Dance No. 2” (“Orientale”), which brought the audience gently down to earth again.
The Seattle Symphony Orchestra, with Vassily Sinaisky, guest conductor, and Behzod Abduraimov, piano soloist; Benaroya Hall, January 7, 2016.
By Melinda Bargreen
This may be the best-ever import from one of Seattle’s sister cities.
The 25-year-old pianist Behzod Abduraimov, who hails from Tashkent – Seattle’s sister city in Uzbekistan – dazzled a sold-out Benaroya Hall audience Thursday evening as the star of an all-Russian program.
His name may be tricky to pronounce, but Abduraimov’s playing is easy to love. His performance of one of the most beloved piano concertos in the repertoire, the Rachmaninoff Second, combined spectacular technique and interpretive finesse. This is a pianist who has it all: silky delicacy, mighty thunder-power, rare clarity, and the ability to draw a remarkable variety of tonal colors from the instrument. All this is combined with a technical finesse that negotiates the concerto’s considerable challenges with stunning ease.
Abduraimov’s partner in the Rachmaninoff was conductor Vassily Sinaisky, an old hand at this repertoire and a very attentive supporter of his soloist. His careful balancing of dynamics gave the orchestra plenty of scope without overwhelming the pianist, even in the misty reveries of the second (Adagio sostenuto) movement.
A lengthy standing ovation at the concerto’s end brought Abduraimov back for an encore, Tchaikovsky’s wistful “Nocturne in C Sharp Minor” (Op. 19, No. 4). Here’s hoping the Symphony will also bring Abduraimov back, to adorn future soloist rosters.
The works bracketing the concerto may not have been the greatest Russian pieces in the symphonic repertoire, but under Sinaisky’s baton they emerged with style and robust vigor. It’s not often that you have a chance to hear Rimsky-Korsakov’s brief Overture to “The Tsar’s Bride,” this program’s curtain-raiser, and Sinaisky did a great job of detailing the contrasts in this tuneful score.
The program’s finale was another seldom-heard piece, Tchaikovsky’s Suite No. 3 in G Major (Op. 55). The suites are often neglected in favor of Tchaikovsky’s symphonies, but this four-movement work has a great deal of charm, and Sinaisky made the most of it, shaping and shading the melodies and phrases. He was not above a bit of showmanship: in the fourth movement where there’s an extraordinarily busy section for the violins, Sinaisky briefly turned to the audience, indicating the speedy fiddles with a hand gesture as if to say, “Look at them go!”
One of the evening’s pleasures was hearing solo work from non-principal orchestral members who don’t always get this opportunity: fine players like clarinetists Laura DeLuca and Eric Jacobs, and bassoonist Paul Rafanelli. Oboist Ben Hausmann and English hornist Stefan Farkas had some great moments, as did the orchestra’s new principal flute, Jeffrey Barker. An extended violin solo in the Tchaikovsky introduced the evening’s excellent concertmaster, Nathan Cole.
It’s a great start to the New Year, following the euphoria of last month’s triple Grammy nominations for the Seattle Symphony. At this writing, the repeat performance of the current program on Saturday is almost sold out: clearly the orchestra is on a roll.
Classical KING FM’s Month of Mozart Preview (January, 2016)
By Melinda Bargreen
Here’s a confession: I didn’t always love Mozart.
As a budding pianist back in grade school, I slogged my unimaginative way through the usual suspects in Mozart’s keyboard canon, including The Sonata Everyone Knows (the No. 16 in C Major, K. 545, sometimes dubbed the “Sonata Facile”). But my heart was elsewhere, and my thoughts were the exact opposite of the often-reported remark of the Emperor Joseph II to Mozart upon the premiere of The Abduction from the Seraglio (“Too many notes”).
There were too few notes! I wanted more notes, more impressive keyboard thunder-power, more … well, more 19th century.
“You will learn,” promised my patient teacher, and indeed I did. It has been a long time since Mozart’s ascent to the top of my musical favorites – lording it above all the usual composer suspects, including several other Austrians and Germans, a handful of French and Brits, several Russians, a scattering of Eastern Europeans and Scandinavians, and the occasional American (plus, of course, P.D.Q. Bach).
Why Mozart?
It’s the music, of course – the great works across such a spectrum of genres from bawdy ditties to the most seriously sublime operas and symphonies. Possibly it’s also because he is the most human of geniuses, enduring a lifetime of scrambling after money, suffering tragedy (the early deaths of four of his six children), knowing he was an incomparable but never attaining the level of prosperity and status he truly deserved. Knowing, at age 35, that he was dying, and that his unwritten works in all their rich possibilities would die with him.
Nobody can pluck at the heartstrings quite as poignantly as Mozart does, most of all in his final, unfinished Requiem. That work has a special link to Seattle, too: it was here that the idea arose for a worldwide 2002 “Rolling Requiem” observance of the first anniversary of the September 11, 2001, attacks on the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center. In the “Rolling Requiem,” organized by members of the Seattle Symphony Chorale, choruses on nearly every continent performed the Mozart masterpiece in individual concerts at 8:46 a.m. – the time of the first World Trade Center attack -- in their own time zone, beginning with the International Dateline and moving with the sun around the world. Thus the Requiem “rolled” from country to country, as 145 choirs in 20 time zones lifted up their voices in succession. In Seattle, the Requiem took place in what was then Safeco Field, with Gerard Schwarz on the podium for a performance featuring soloists Terri Richter, Sarah Mattox, Vinson Cole and Julian Patrick, with members of the Seattle Symphony, the Seattle Youth Symphony Orchestras and the Seattle Symphony Chorale — the organization that started it all.
The Mozart Requiem speaks to us not only because of the pathos of its origins -- the last, great, unfinished work of a dying genius, whose life was ripped away at the height of his creative powers – but also because the music so powerfully invokes the terror we feel about death: the awe, the anguish and the hope for an afterlife. It also expresses faith in “lux aeterna” (eternal light), providing hope and consolation for those left behind.
So we come to Classical KING FM’s “Month of Mozart” with gratefulness for what we do have, and for a refreshed start to a New Year after too much fruitcake and turkey -- and for a celebration of a genius whose birthday is January 27. (It’s his 260th, by the way.) We’re raising a glass in Mozart’s honor, and turning up the volume on our speakers.