RSO Metro Collection: frontier music

Several weeks ago, I attended a Richmond Symphony concert in its Metro Collection series, which brings a smaller orchestra (e.g. 10 violins instead of 22; 1 horn instead of 5) to venues in the counties surrounding  Richmond. My TD review is here, and it tells you all I'm going to say about the music except, dear Antonio, please forgive me-- by calling your piece "fluff," I didn't mean to imply it was disposable.

A few words about the space, though. The concert was held in a gym at Kingsway Community Church in Midlothian. At least I think it was a gym, because there were basketball court lines on the fake-wood floor, but no evidence of nets. You can sort of tell by this photo from the church's website that the room is shaped like a fan. It felt too wide for the size of the orchestra. And I can't have been much closer than most seats in the Carpenter Theatre.

At intermission, I chatted with the man sitting behind me, who said this was the closest concert to his home he had ever been to. I had been not-quite-grumbling about having to drive so far to it. I guess if the world isn't going to revolve me, it might as well benefit someone else along the way.

In fact, I really do like the Metro Collection concept, both because it invites a different sort of programming and because it puts the orchestra in settings that many people feel are more inviting or familiar. But I really hate the universal lighting that usually comes with these alternative territories. I don't care what the musicians wear--although I appreciate a subdued uniformity--and I don't care when people clap--as long as we do it alertly-- but please, please, at least dim the house lights so I can feel like the music is showing me something beyond myself. And, more realistically, so I'm less likely to be distracted by my surroundings.

Kelley Nassief, Richmond Symphony Orchestra and Chorus

My review of Saturday's Masterworks concert appeared in Monday's Times-Dispatch.

I was surprised how small the audience was, and I'm curious if Sunday afternoon's was any larger. I thought people would like the concept--many short pieces in a sort of "best of opera" format. (To be clear, it was not marketed as a "best-of" concert, and the programmatic choices were thoughtful, not just a riffle through old cartoon soundtrack archives.)

I wonder if the symphony erred in not posting/announcing the detailed program ahead of time. When I checked the website about two days before the concert, nothing beyond the Britten and Ravel was listed. (But just now when I checked, the whole program is up... hmm.) People like to know what they're buying.

By the way, be sure to check the RSO's blog now and then. The entries are a little unpredictable in their tone and content, but almost always of some interest. Associate Conductor Erin Freeman's post about this most recent Masterworks Concert is excellent. A commenter remarked that she should be writing the program notes. That indeed would be wonderful, since not only is Freeman an excellent communicator, but in an ideal world all program notes would be written locally and specifically, placing each performance in context. The RSO's notes are currently procured from John P. Varineau, associate conductor of the Grand Rapids Symphony (I just looked this up), and are much better than they were several years ago.

Virginia Opera: Cosi fan tutte

Confession: I am new to Virginia Opera. (The Times-Dispatch's regular freelance reviewer, Roy Proctor, was out of town, so I took on the post-Thanksgiving show.) But after this experience, I plan to return, and Lilian Groag's name will be an incentive. I'd like to see how she works with other operas.

I only wish VO would stretch a bit out of the canon. I guess it has figured out what works with the audiences it has, and has calculated there aren't any other audiences to be had (in profitable enough sizes). Some day, some day, I will get up to D.C. or elsewhere for opera that is my age or younger.

The Seasons Project: Venice Baroque Orchestra, Robert McDuffie play Vivaldi and Glass

My review of this performance, here.

This concert was the perfect confluence of performers, composers and space. I left ready to swear off  full-sized orchestras forever. No matter how talented the conductor or phenomenal the orchestra, the energy of a small, self-led group is unmatchable.

And though I can't extrapolate, this particular performance of the VBO was superior to the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra's Modlin Center performance last year, at least in terms of ensemble-playing.

RSO Masterworks: Shatin, Dvorak, Saint-Saens, Copland

My review of this past weekend's RSO Masterworks concert ran in Monday's Times-Dispatch. Shatin's "Jefferson, In His Own Words" was the headline work; Copland's "Fanfare for the Common Man," Saint-Saens' Cello Concert No. 2 and Dvorak's Symphony No. 6 were also on the program.

Re-reading my review, I'm not sure why I felt I had to make the point that Baliles spoke clearly; that should be expected. What I wanted to say, but didn't have the brainpower to formulate properly on deadline, had to do with the simplicity of his delivery. He didn't over-inflect, and didn't need to; we weren't children gathered round a chair at storytime. As I listened, I took a few moments to imagine what it might sound like if he had crafted a more dramatic--or perhaps one might say a more musical--narrative style, and that made me even more appreciative of his choices.

Probably imprudently, I also imagined what else the Dvorak symphony could have sounded like--thus my review's closing comment. I don't know the sixth symphony well enough to know what has or hasn't been, or should or shouldn't be done with it, but it seems to me if you're going to pick a composer to rough up a bit, Dvorak is a good candidate. Take some risks, show me the difference between playing music and just performing it.

Charles Rosen, victim of careless program notes

Generally, I think the discussion of applause at concerts is a horse that should go ahead and die, but the situation at Saturday's concert was so weird, I want to elaborate on a point I made at the end of my review, which appears in today's Times-Dispatch.

Here's a blow-by-blow:
-Charles Rosen takes the stage to applause.
-He performs R. Schumann's Intermezzo from "Faschingsschwank aus Wien."
-Silence. More silence.
-Rosen fidgets, takes something from his left breast pocket (glasses? but he's not using music), fiddles with it, takes something from his right pocket, puts both things back into the right pocket.
-He plays the opening chord of Schumann's "Fantasia in C," stops, grunts, fidgets and begins again.
-After the second movement of the Fantasia, a quarter to a third of the audience bursts into applause that lasts several seconds until people realize by Rosen's body language that he's not done.
-Rosen finishes "Fantasia," everyone applauds. Two rounds of bows, then intermission.

The absence of applause after the first piece was not because the audience didn't like the performance. I'll lay double my life savings on that.

Even though the program listing showed the Intermezzo, the program notes didn't mention it, diving instead straight into the middle of a discussion of the differences between the first published, revised version of the Fantasia and Schumann's original version. Dutiful note readers saw the titles of the 3 movements that Schumann originally gave the work (but no movements were noted in the program listing) and must have gotten confused about what was what. They counted three chunks of music, then clapped.

I'm still thinking about why I and other people who knew that the Intermezzo had ended didn't applaud. I guess I'm not used to being the first person to start clapping--I kind of like waiting a breath-length first--and then the longer the silence went on, the harder it became for anyone to be the first to clap. I started thinking that maybe other people knew something I didn't, like he was going to add the last movement of the Faschingsschwank.

In any case, the second half of the program probably erased the awkwardness of the first in the minds of most people. I'm just hung up on the program note thing, maybe because it's so fixable.

The two tenors of Tracey Welborn

First, here's my review of an August concert by the Richmond Chamber Players.  Even though I spent just as much space on the Clarke viola sonata as on "Ten Blake Songs" by Vaughn Williams, I was much more captivated by the latter. Tracey Welborn's voice was a perfect match for the music, words, oboe and space, which was a church sanctuary.

So I was looking forward to hearing him sing again, the tenor solo in Beethoven's Ninth when the RSO performed it in September. My review of that concert is here, but Clarke Bustard's has a more accurate analysis of what was happening with the Ninth.

My sense was that Welborn wasn't a good match with Kevin Deas, the bass. The first is wildflowers, the other lawn. And had the tempo been less "breathless," as Clarke notes, I think Welborn's voice wouldn't have given the impression that he was lost in the hall. I'm looking forward to hearing him sing again under different circumstances.

Organ-ization

My review of Saturday's Masterworks concert ran in Monday's Times-Dispatch. To be honest, it was not a concert I looked forward to. "Chorus" and "organ" just aren't appealing words to me on a beautiful May evening. But as I listened to the opening work, "Rainbow Body," (which uses neither chorus nor organ), I could feel the day's tension leaving my  body; when "Gesang der Parzen" began, I thought, "Oh, that's right, I like Brahms!" And by the time the organ began playing in the Saint-Saens, I was completely relaxed and happy.

Mr. Van Pelt (see the comments below the review on the RTD site) contacted me personally to make sure I understood the location of the organ's pipes, which is pretty much directly behind the loudspeakers in the Carpenter Theater, hidden behind paneling, as pipes sometimes are. His correction clears up my confusion, and I was able to get more fascinating information from him about the Carpenter's organ-- for one thing, it's apparently made from parts of the organ that was originally in the building in the late 1920s.

I'm happy enough to blame Saint-Saens for writing an organ into an orchestral work; I think organs are best left to their own devices, of which they have many-- sort of the point, no? And I'm not going to spend the next 25 years grousing about the acoustics in the Carpenter Theater. It may not be the Schermerhorn, but it's no Dogwood Dell, either. (Plus, I've been to a concert in the Schermerhorn, in the balcony, and it was like watching a very good television. I'm fine with the middle ground between perfect acoustics and extreme intimacy that the Carpenter gives.)

The image, by the way, is of the only organ I've ever truly, truly appreciated. It's 25 years old this year and is installed in the chapel of Bethel College in North Newton, Kansas.

Catching up on past reviews

From the Old News Department, created in response to the Insanely Busy Spring employment campaign:

Here's my review of the Richmond Symphony's Masterworks concert with violinist Elena Urioste playing Tschaikovsky Concerto in D and Erin Freeman conducting Higdon's "Concerto for Orchestra." Metaphors don't get any weirder than the one I used about two-thirds of the way in. I still kind of like it. I wish I had mentioned Ms. Freeman's excellent introduction of the Higdon piece from the podium: simple, respectful, enlightening, succinct. It was exactly the sort of speaking one wants to hear from conductors.

On the other hand, I wish I hadn't mentioned the applause after the first movement of the Tschaikovsky, even non-judgmentally. People can clap whenever they want, as far as I'm concerned, and I don't ever want to make someone feel like they broke a secret rule and shouldn't come back to the concert hall. Ringing, beeping, clicking and flashing electronic devices... that's a different story.

Next, here's my review of the Jupiter String Quartet's performance in the Mary Anne Rennolds Chamber series. Clearly the Bartok Quartet No. 4 was my favorite. Dvorak, though... Dvorak is like the band R.E.M. They're indispensable contributors to their genres. I like--love-- their music. Yet if I were asked to name the one really outstanding piece by either, I'd stammer. Jupiter put the "I Can" in the "American," for sure.

More Dvorak in this review of the first concert in the Richmond Music Festival. You can't tell from the online version that the performance was at the First Unitarian Church. The other concerts, unfortunately, were on weeknights and I just couldn't make it out to them.

I'm also glad to have attended many things I didn't review, including "Othello" and "Elizabeth Rex" from Richmond Shakespeare, as well as their staged reading of "Merchant of Venice." This was far more staged than the last one I saw, and thinking back on it now, two months later, I can scarcely see in my mind's eye the scripts the actors held.

I was the project manager for Richmond Shakespeare's Bardathon, which involved 74 high school students from 11 different schools doing "Twelfth Night." After rehearsing one or more scenes ahead of time at their own schools, they all came together to put on the play. Some scenes were set on a Caribbean island, some in a vaguely Transylvanian setting; one was set in the '80s, another in a proto-Victorian period. Totally charming.

Beaten with a stick

Here's my review of the Richmond Symphony's Masterworks performance on February 27, featuring then-candidate Maestro Steven Smith and pianist Jon Nakamatsu. (Berlioz, Beethoven, Shostakovich) Visually, a compelling argument for balcony seats.

Richmond Symphony Names Director

It's Steven Smith.

Here's the link to my review of last week's Masterworks performance conducted by Smith. If I had had just a few more inches, I would have also mentioned the incredible pianissimos of the timpanist in every piece.

I had a few minutes on Wednesday and was near the downtown library, so I stopped in and wandered among the 800s of Mr. Dewey. My eye fell on a collection of letters written by the American poet Anne Sexton, so I picked it up and read here and there. This is one thing I learned:

In the early 1970s, Sexton convinced the Boston Globe to send her to review an Ella Fitzgerald-Count Basie concert on Cape Cod. Not only did the newspaper pay for tickets and a hotel room for her and a friend, they gave her 1200 words for the review.

Do you know how much easier it is to write 1200 words than 430 words?!

Beauty and the Machine

The Victrola was still several years shy of existence at the time of Cesar Franck's Piano Quintet in F minor, but its appearance in my review for the Richmond Times-Dispatch of the Shanghai Quartet with Yuja Wang makes metaphorical if not literal sense. I had never heard the Franck before and was struck by its idea, as I heard it, that the mechanical and the beautiful can co-exist, or are not any more different from each other than beauty and menace.

Orpheus Chamber Orchestra: World Premiere by Maxwell Davies and other music

My review of last Friday's concert at the Modlin Center by the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra appeared in the Times-Dispatch. The heart of the program was "Sea Orpheus" by Sir Peter Maxwell Davies, one of the six commissioned works for the orchestra's The New Brandenburgs project.

The Rose Ensemble: voices from the past, maybe

I was pleased to be assigned to review the Rose Ensemble's performance at the Modlin Center -- it wasn't a concert I had prioritized for review, since space is so limited for coverage of non-local, non-famous groups. Here's the link to my review of Wednesday night's performance. Please read and return here!

As it happened, earlier that day I had spent a good 30 minutes on YouTube listening to different performances of "It Ain't Necessarily So" and "Summertime" from Gershwin's "Porgy and Bess." The variety of interpretations was inspiring. I loved simply hearing the difference, for example, between Ella Fitzgerald's and Janis Joplin's voices.

I mention this as background to my assessment of the Rose's uniformity of vocal timbre, because this idea of variety was on my brain (although not specifically in expectation of the concert). Yes, they did employ subtle vocal differences among songs, and their stage presence (including expressions, gestures and body language) was notably communicative--maybe I should have made more of this in my review. But by and large, they were singing in what I think of as typical Western choral fashion: from the belly through the skull, O-mouths, warm sound.

Ensemble leader Jordan Sramek's solo on "Et Sha'are Ratzon," a Libyan Sephardic song for Rosh Hashanah, came closer in vocal sound to what I imagined several of the pieces on the program might have sounded like originally--a more penetrating, calling, upper-body quality-- and I liked it.

I tried to be careful not to say anything should sound a certain way--that's not the way I approach music, and in any case, the Rose Ensemble makes its professional decisions with far more information at hand than I have. I hope the point I got across was that at least one person is open to hearing sounds that are unfamiliar, foreign, ancient.

Here are two instruments I had the pleasure of hearing at the concert: the vielle, a 5-stringed medieval fiddle (at left), and the smaller rebec. We also heard an oud, harp, psaltery and 5 different drums.

Fluted

I missed posting this link to my review of the Baroque by Candlelight concert in December.

I was reminded of this concert this morning when a piece for flute and piano came on the radio. At once, I realized why the flute has never been a favorite of mine: it almost always sounds so prom queen, so toastmaster, so nice. The wooden traverse flute, on the other hand (such as we heard at the December concert), sounds more like a friend.

Picture this: a pale blue midwinter sky, seamed through with pin-straight jetstream and mottled with the fluff and lace of cirrus clouds. One's the sliver flute, one's the wooden.

Richmond Symphony Masterworks: Beethoven, Sheng, Franck

My review of Richmond Symphony's most recent Masterworks concert ran in Monday's Times-Dispatch.

In discussing "Nanking! Nanking!" the phrase I use, "pounding the audience into shock," is not an exaggeration. The piece ends with about eight (I forgot to count) fortissimo repeated notes that made the word "rape" spring to my mind. (I later realized that the title "The Rape of Nanking" had been in my subconcious, though I've never read the book.)

I couldn't believe that was how the piece ended, and I suspect others in the audience had the same reaction. There was a pause of several seconds, and it wasn't until Fagen turned to Wei to shake his hand that applause began.

It's very hard to explain, especially in a written review that doesn't permit much, if any, first-person voice, the state of not liking a piece but being glad to have heard it. My not liking it was for two reasons, as was my gladness for hearing it.

I didn't like it because it didn't have anything especially new to add to the catalogue of music-that-imitates-violence, and because I'd just rather listen music that's more subtle, if not traditionally melodic.

I was glad to hear it for the reasons I mentioned in the article, and because, more specifically, it did have some very interesting aural pairings of the pipa with other sections and soloists the orchestra-- the pipa-contrabassoon duets, for example.

I still haven't answered the question, "Why the pipa?" Sheng writes that the solo instrument in "Nanking! Nanking!" has the role of victim, witness and survivor. Maybe giving this usually delicate-sounding instrument an often-violent line to play says something about the human capacity to adapt, to react, to act both basely and nobly, and about music's ability to reflect all aspects of our humanity.

Before beginning the piece, Fagen led three excerpts from "Nanking! Nanking!" with very brief remarks before each. I though the chosen bits were a little long, but I suppose that was necessary.

Fagen did an excellent job conducting the whole program, clearly composed and authoritative. However, the Egmont didn't have as much brightness to it as I thought it should. Is "new hall" still an excuse after 3 months? I don't know, not knowing what can be physically done to sharpen the sound and get rid of (or temper) excess boom and resonance.

Richmond Symphony: Lollipops and Dead Composers

Forgot to post the link to my review of the Richmond Symphony's first concert in its new Lollipops series, published in Sunday's Times-Dispatch.

Yes, "The Composer is Dead" is funny, and I don't think it's just "inside" jokes. For example, even if you don't really get why the part about the violas is funny, the music written for them sort of explains the joke.

This is the sort of piece that will certainly become standard repertoire for family concerts, if not for the occasional adult concert, too. (I think the grim humor of performing this piece on March 26, the date of Beethoven's still mysterious death, would be perfect.) What parent wouldn't rather take a kid to a show that they themselves will appreciate, too?

The symphony partnered with Radio Disney to provide publicity, I guess, and to help run the pre-show and half-time entertainment (costume contest, perky DJ). As much as I, the Snob, detest the Disney Channel (I'm guessing that Radio Disney is similarly detestable), I think this was a excellent move for the symphony. Advertise in the same places, you'll get the same people. Advertise in new places, you'll get new people. Maybe they've done RD partnerships before; I dunno.

By the way, speaking of funny, watch this video of Lemony Snicket and Nathaniel Stookey discussing "The Composer is Dead," in which Snicket compares it to a dead butterfly and a gateway drug, and makes the case for a hospitals to have house bands.

Alt Comix and Alt Characters

My report on the the appearance of R. Crumb and Françoise Mouly ran in today's Times-Dispatch.

I'm not a Crumb fan, but I still felt a little awed and odd to see, in person, the man responsible for this, for example. He voice is a mild tenor, his manner almost sweet. He actually said, "Awww" without affectation when some photos of his children and wife were shown overhead. He was a little shy-and-awkward, yes, but not reticent. Mouly guided the conversation through prompts and didn't have to ask very many direct questions; Crumb was willing to tell little stories and deliver wry aphorisms.

By the way, the post title does not refer to attendees at the event but to this exciting page that shows how to make ç and ü and £ and even ☺, if you're so inclined.

Richmond Symphony: Debussy, Prokofiev, Berlioz

My review of this concert appeared in Monday's Times-Dispatch, but there's no appearance of it online, so I'll post here. Read through for a few additional thoughts at the end.

Imagine a cup filled so full that the water makes a dome above its brim. The liquid trembles, bulges—but stays within the cup’s edge, held in place by surface tension until some outside force intervenes.

Prokofiev’s Piano Concerto No. 3 is music that plays, metaphorically speaking, at the edge of the cup. The emotional tension was portrayed keenly on Saturday night by the Richmond Symphony and guest pianist Jeremy Denk, under the baton of conductor Christian Knapp, a candidate for the postion of music director of the symphony.

Written in C Major, but with melodies that quiver at the brinks of various minor keys, the concerto strains at the boundaries of simple categories like “happy” and “sad.” Denk’s performance showed this brilliantly. The piano cavorts into the first movement, but as the music spills over the edge of glee, Denk played with a near-vicious ecstasy. When a brooding equilibrium is reached, he didn’t let the music become complacent.

In introducing the concerto, Knapp remarked on Prokofiev’s fascination with machinery. The concerto does have passages of mechanical insistence, musical figures that get repeated like a step on the assembly line of sound, but Denk’s no automaton. He translated such moments into a manic playfulness that let the audience marvel at both his skill and the larger context of the music itself.

Denk performed with sensitivity to the orchestral voices, and the musicians played in harmonious partnership with him. At moments in the first and third movements, the violins and woodwinds seemed to have trouble hearing each other. Knapp worked quickly to bring them together.

The theme of tension at the threshold connected the first and last pieces on the program as well. “Prélude à l’Après-midi d’un faune” by Debussy and “Symphone fantastique” by Berlioz both explore the boundary between dream and waking worlds.

In Debussy’s dreamy afternoon, the surface shimmers, but doesn’t break. It’s easy to imagine the flute, oboe and other solo parts as light-footed fauns and nymphs. The musicians voiced these passages beautifully against the lush backdrop of harps and strings.

The opium-fueled dream Berlioz depicts is in sharp contrast to the languid eroticism of the Debussy. The music is by turns graceful, plaintive, violent and comic—and more—and requires quick mood shifts, which the musicians handled with ease.

Knapp directed emphatically, often using his full body, as if he were inside the dream himself. When the music ended, there were murmurs and sighs from the audience as we returned to the world of the concert hall to applaud.

Except that the sounds I heard were not so much murmurs and sighs as little gasps and burbles. That last movement's music is pretty crass, after all. But I couldn't use those words in a review, as they'd convey entirely the wrong meaning to readers who don't know the music.
 
(Burbles: you know, that sound some Educated People make when they laugh at something they think only Educated People realize is funny.) 
 
I also deliberately didn't use the word "animated" to describe Knapp's conducting. It's such a cliche, and I worried some readers would read it as a positive commentary ("Yay! the conductor is entertaining!") or as a negative commentary ("Humph. Too wacky. Undignified.") depending on their inclination. I hope "emphatically" came across as purely discriptive.
 
There were several points in the Berlioz and even once or twice in the Prokofiev that I thought the music sounded bottom-heavy. (Were six basses really necessary?) Personally, I'm all for a conductor who likes cellos and basses, but they were occassionally distracting in this performance.

Fleck, Hussain, Meyer: Good Joke, No Beer

Nine years ago, I volunteered at the Mayo Island Music Festival just so I could hear Bela Fleck. Unfortunately, I got stuck slinging Miller Lite from a beer truck at the back of the field when Bela Fleck took the stage. Immediately, the trucks were slammed. Fleck was apparently too quiet and too subtle for many attendees and they decided it was time for another beer. I missed almost everything.

Fortunately, I got to hear Bela Fleck on Sunday, along with Edgar Meyer and Zakir Hussain. Didn't have to serve cheap beer. Here's the review, which appeared in Tuesday's Times-Dispatch.

And here's a review by Taylor Barnett on Richmond.com.