Orchestral Concerts and Very Large Orchestras

In March, it was back to going to orchestral concerts again.    We heard the Minnesota Orchestra at Carnegie Hall in an all Sibelius concert, conducted by Osmo Vänskä .   It was Symphonies 1 and 3, plus the Violin Concerto.   Though the concert was well played, and Vänskä is considered the best Sibelius conductor around, I have to confess that I can't find my way into liking the early symphonies of Sibelius.   I find his melodies lacking in rhythmic variety, and there are what seems to be endless repetitive harmonic sequences.   I am sure there are musical pleasures in the music that many others have found, but I don't hear them.

The NY Philharmonic performed the Brahms Requiem, with the octogenarian Christoph von Dohnanyi conducting.   It was a beautifully paced and moving performance.  I am happy to listen to Brahms any time.

The most extraordinary thing I have heard in a long time was a performance of Messiaen's "Turangalila Symphony".   This is a ten movement symphony, written in 1949, written for a huge orchestra, featuring no less than ten percussionists, along with piano solo, ondes martinot, and celesta and every other pitched percussion instrument you can think of.  Essa-Pekka Salonen conducted the NY Philharmonic, and the performance was a knockout.   I actually attended a rehearsal, along with the performance, so I got to hear it twice.  Salonen's spoken introduction was good.  He connected the piece to such works as Berlioz's "Symphonie Fantastique" and Wagner's "Tristan and Isolde"; the point being that Turangalila is a delirious piece, moving into the realm of the improbable.   Ecstatic indeed!  There are wonderful clashing dissonances; not dissonances of torment and expressionism, but rather of cosmic splendor.  It sometimes seems as if Messiaen is writing music from a different planet.   I had trouble sleeping the night after the performance, with Messiaen's music echoing in my head. It was a truly unforgettable experience.

Two days after the Messiaen, we heard yet another gigantic symphony, Mahler's Third, with Gustavo Dudamel conducting the LA Philharmonic.   It was also an extraordinary performance.   Though I must confess that the Third is not my favorite Mahler symphony; it clocks in on the average at about 105 minutes (the longest of Mahler's symphonies).   The last movement seemingly goes on forever in a very slow fashion.  But still, it was an amazing experience.

Two days later, I heard a rehearsal of the Montreal Symphony in Carnegie Hall.  It was a pleasure to hear Ravel's "La Valse" and Beethoven's Third Piano Concerto.   After days of hearing large scale romantic and modern orchestral works, it was very refreshing to hear Beethoven.   The orchestra was also rehearsing Stravinsky's "Rite of Spring", but they only ran through spots, clearly saving their energy for that evening's performance.   It was just as well, as what I heard did not come up the the high standards of the NY Philharmonic's recent performance.

And two days later, it was back to the NY Philharmonic to hear a rehearsal of a new piece by Essa-Pekka Salonen, entitled "Karawane".  Conducted by Alan Gilbert, it was a work for chorus and orchestra, based on the eponymous text of the Dadaist Hugo Ball.  "Karawane" is sound poetry, and has no literal meaning.   The piece opened with 60's Ligeti style whispering voices. Most, if not all, of the choral writing is homophonic.   Salonen's notes described the Balinese "monkey chant" as an influence.   To me it sounded like Carmina Burana outtakes.   There were intriguing harmonic and orchestral textures, catchy little melodic motives, and at times strong propulsive rhythms.   So why didn't I like it very much?  Mostly because it all felt very bland and generic.   For a work that professed to be invoking "Dada", there was nothing at all unsettling or bizarre in the overt sense; everything moved along in a very straightforward  and routine kind of way.   Perhaps further hearings would uncover more subtle juxtapositions, but to my ears on a first hearing, it was a kind of generic, crowd-pleasing work of the 21st century.
The rehearsal also included a performance of the Sibelius Violin Concerto, with violinist Leonidas Kavakos.   It was an intriguing and at times quite idiosyncratic performance; I found it much more interesting than the Minnesota Orchestra performance I heard with Hillary Hahn a few weeks earlier.

Attending rehearsals at the NY Philharmonic is a great way to hear the music.  The ones I have been to have essentially been dress rehearsals; they run through the entire movements, and then at the end of the movement, they touch up spots before moving to the next movement.

Serenades

I went to hear the Met Chamber Ensemble perform two Serenades, Schoenberg's Op. 24 and Mozart's "Gran Partita".   It was a wonderful concert.   Schoenberg's "Serenade" is one of my favorite Schoenberg pieces.  Written in the early 1920's, it is filled with jittery, quirky neoclassical phrases.  It's one of the pieces Schoenberg wrote as he was moving towards the twelve tone method.  It is typically dense, filled with overlapping and juxtaposed phrases, and clashing neoclassical rhythms.   The guitar and mandolin give it a special flavor, and the overall feel is a kind of light expressionism.   The performance was vigorous if not always precise.   The second piece on the program was Mozart's "Gran Partita" Serenade, a work lasting about 55 minutes (Mozart's longest instrumental work?) and scored for two oboes, two bassoons, two basset horns, two clarinets, four French horns, and bass.   It is one of Mozart's truly amazing works; more symphonic than serenade-like, and containing some exquisite writing for winds.  Heard in the intimate and clear sound of Weill Recital Hall, it was a delight.
The concert was conducted by James Levine, whose failing health has been much in the news of late.   While his beat in the Schoenberg was fairly clear most of the time, for most of the time in the Mozart he seemed to have little control over his body, his arms (and feet) waving around expressively, but with little connection to the tempo of the music.  It's a miracle that the musicians could stay together.   It was very sad to see Levine in such poor condition; you could clearly see how intensely he was involved in the music, while having very little control over his body.   I don't see how he can continue doing this for much longer.  I am sure that he can do wonderful things in rehearsals, but unless he gets better very soon, I think his live conducting career will end very soon.  It's a sad moment for a great musician.