New Jersey Symphony – Xian Zhang, conductor; Johannes Moser, cello. March 22, 2019.

Richardson Auditorium, Princeton.  Rear Parterre (Seat O10, $53).

Program

Konzertstuck for Four Horns in F Major, Op. 86 (1849) by Schumann (1810-1856).

Symphony No. 8 in B minor, “Unfinished,” D. 759 (1822) by Schubert (1797-1828).

Cello Concerto in B Minor, Op. 104 (1894-1895) by Dvorak (1841-1904).

Horns: Chris Komer, Andrea Menousek, Lawrence DiBello, Eric Reed

This was overall an exciting concert, with crowd pleasers that were easy to get, and – for tonight – well performed.  Lately I developed some doubts about the orchestra, so I was happy when at the end I could say, “great, they’re back.”

The horn must be a very difficult instrument to play, with pitches difficult to get correctly, and soft sounds often uneven.  Three of today’s players are from the orchestra’s horn section, and Reed is a local artist.  The 21-minute piece consists of three movements: Lebhaft; Romanze: Ziemlich langsam; Sehr lebhaft.  Schumann wrote several pieces for the horn (in conjunction with other instruments and orchestra) after he moved to Dresden.  The Program Notes has a good description of how the three movements sound, except the players didn’t quite perform to that standard.  Some of that may be my lack of familiarity with the instrument; I didn’t get the “you’ll discern differences in horn timbres” at all.

The four horns after performing Schumann's Konzertstuck.

I am quite familiar with the melodies in Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony, especially considering there is only one entry of the piece in this blog.  As I am writing this, I find myself humming some of them; by that measure it was a great success.  The sound was full and the dynamic range was great in the relatively small Richardson Auditorium.  One could wish for more precision from the different sections, but that didn’t detract from how well the overall performance was structured.

My prior exposure to the symphony was in 2015, and I recorded that Schubert for some reason stopped working on it after having completed two movements.  I had forgotten that.  The piece was unperformed for 40-odd years, seeing its premiere in 1865.  Its two movements are Allegro moderato and Andante con moto.

After performing Schubert's Unfinished Symphony.

Similarly, that there is only one entry of Dvorak’s Cello Concerto in my blog, back in 2011 doesn’t explain my apparent familiarity with it.  I recorded then that Dvorak wrote some parts of it with the passing of his sister in mind.  Tonight’s Program Notes said it was his sister-in-law Josefina Kaunitzova, which added a degree of poignancy to the music.  It also mentioned how Dvorak wouldn’t replace the coda in the finale where he repeated the song “Let me wander alone with my dreams” with a virtuoso cadenza for the originally planned premiere cellist.  As a result, a different cellist performed the premiere, in London.  The three movements are Allegro, Adagio ma non troppo, and Finale: Allegro moderato.

And Moser was most impressive.  Many of the passages looked extremely difficult to this non-cello player, especially the many double glissandos and double trills, and the occasional left hand pizzicato.  He tackled them with ease, the smile on his face seemed to say “I have been practicing a lot.”  His cello, a Guarneri, has this pleasant nasal tone which was probably the reason why Dvorak thought the cello wasn’t a great solo instrument.

Moser and Zhang after Dvorak's Cello Concerto.

There was this passage where the cello was in a dialog with the solo violin.  The two players seemed to build on each other’s enthusiasm (some may say egging on each other).  It was both delightful to hear and beautiful to watch.  Wyrick was up to the task.

The audience reacted well to all three pieces.

I walked away feeling a bit melancholic, who wouldn’t after these two minor-keyed pieces, but I was also happy.

San Francisco Symphony – Michael Tilson Thomas, conductor; Christian Tetzlaff, violin. March 14, 2019.

Davies Symphony Hall, San Francisco.  Tier 1 Premium (Seat D101, $84).

Program

La Tombeau de Couperin (1919) by Ravel (1875-1937).

Violin Concerto No. 3 in G major, K. 216 (1775) by Mozart (1756-1791).

Symphony No. 2 in D major, Op. 43 (1902) by Sibelius (1865-1957).

Anne and I are on a one-week trip to Northern California.  We missed the opportunity to attend an SFS concert when we were here in January, so I was happy to get tickets for tonight’s concert, even though two of the three pieces on the program didn’t particularly appeal to me.

We heard La Tombeau de Couperin recently performed by the New Jersey Symphony.  I was quite disappointed at that performance.  I have trouble appreciating the music, and for that performance the way it was played didn’t help.  I still have trouble understanding the music after tonight, but at least the orchestra’s playing was clean and the lines – such as they were – were brought out well by the various instruments.

The San Francisco Symphony brought out a very clean sound for Ravel's La Tombeau de Couperin.

One thing I learned was that last year was Couperin’s 350^th birthday anniversary (he was born in 1768), that may explain the popularity of the French baroque composer.  It is also interesting that I have heard more music patterned after Couperin’s than music actually composed by Couperin; the latter only once, in a pre-concert recital at a Mostly Mozart event.

To me Tetzlaff is better known for using this modern violin made by Grainer than his violin playing.  To be fair, the few times I heard him he was great.  Tonight was no exception, the way he played was technically flawless, the sound was pure, the spiccato passages just bounced neatly off his strings, and the violin’s tone was exquisite, balancing well with the orchestra (which was quite large).

Mozart’s violin concertos were composed when he was around 20, and are considered by many to be “light-weight” compared to Mozart’s later works.  Indeed the five violin concertos are usually learned by the violin student rather early in their career.  In my case, the way I learned it is how the concerto should sound to me, and Tetzlaff had some distinct interpretations that I was not familiar with, including what notes he tended to emphasize, and what notes to hold.  Nothing wrong with that, but these instances would end up interrupting my appreciation of the flow of the music.  [Note: we heard a recording of this concerto by Perlman, it conformed to my preconceived notion, and it sounded great.]

Tetzlaff acknowledging the audience's applause after performing Mozart's Third Violin Concerto.

I would have enjoyed Tetzlaff using his talents on a more “thrilling” composition.  After all, the first time I heard him play was a Shostakovich violin concerto, a performance I described as “jaw-dropping.”

The most memorable aspect of Sibelius’s Second Symphony is this melody that takes its time in showing itself completely.  It gets used again and again, together with a couple of other themes in the finale, until – if the composition is played well – everything turns dark and gray, and every listener gets depressed.

Today’s performance was good, but somehow the melody happened on me more suddenly, without the aching anticipation I had heard other times.  And the large orchestra sometimes had a bit of precision issues - MTT doesn’t conduct “on the beat,” but one would think this group knows him well.

A large orchestra was used for Sibelius's Second Symphony.

I really enjoyed the acoustics in this hall.  The sounds it produces are clear, but doesn’t suffer from the “clinical sterility” I sometimes attribute to Carnegie Hall (Stern auditorium).  The orchestra was large (I counted 14 first violins, 12 second violins, 10 violas, 8 cellos, and 6 basses) but still sounded crisp most of the time.

It seats a bit over 2700, about the same as David Geffen Hall, but the more spacious seats translate to a larger auditorium.

 One staircase is used to connect two levels.  This staircase looks spacious when there are few people, but is jam packed at the end of the concert.

One can have a nice view of the area from the Hall.  Here in the background is City Hall.

The shiny panels above the orchestra are acrylic reflectors that can be adjusted depending on the need.  Also notice the large organ in the back.

As mentioned in a previous blog, the music world may indeed be quite small.  We heard the Ravel piece last on March 2 on the East Coast.  Salonen will be replacing Thomas in 2020.  And we found out today the SFS and the New York Phil use the same annotator.  Both and I agree that the SFS Program Notes say more about the music than the NY Phil Playbills.

The SFS-recommended garage was full, we were lucky to find someone pulling out a block from that garage.  It was in a rather safe area, and we saved a few dollars.

It was a 45-minute drive back to our hotel in Livermore.

Philharmonia Orchestra – Esa-Pekka Salonen, conductor; Truls Mork, cello. March 10, 2019.

David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra (Seat G101, $66).

Program

The Oceanides (1914) by Sibelius (1865-1957).

Cello Concerto (2016) by Salonen (b. 1958).

The Firebird (1909-10) by Stravinsky (1882-1971).

The Playbill nonchalantly described the first half of the program as being written by two Finnish composers, about 100 years apart.  What it failed to mention – probably because it was too obvious – was that the younger composer would be conducting his own work, and that he could trace his composition heritage to Sibelius.

Tonight’s Cello concerto was written for Yo-Yo Ma, which he premiered with Salonen in 2017, with the Chicago Symphony.  Overall it was an exciting piece to listen to, especially in the wonderful hands of Truls Mork and under the baton of Salonen.  Salonen describes the first movement as “evolving from ‘chaos’ and becoming like a comet,” and that the concerto explores “the concept of a virtuoso operating at the very limits of what is physically (and sometimes mentally) possible.”

As to the first point, a program of the music doesn’t necessarily translate into how a listener hears the music.  Of course one can make the case of chaos turning into order, and how “a moving object is emulated by other lines … A bit like a comet’s tail.”  But what I heard was a lot more than that; at a minimum, the orchestra/sections at times took the lead, and at times there was quite a bit of conversation.

Not being a cello player, I do not know all the virtuoso techniques one can bring to the instrument.  As a string player, I do know how difficult harmonics, glissandos, high registers, large intervals, and left-hand pizzicatos are.  All these, and more, were present in the concerto.  Not only that, some of these passages were so long that they no doubted tested the stamina and concentration of the soloist, and the orchestra, for that matter.

In that sense, Mork – a Norwegian – did an excellent job.  He needed the music (who wouldn’t?), and there were precarious occasions when the music was about to fall off the stand.  My seat in Row G gave me an excellent view of how he methodically tackled the music, and how he worked against a large orchestra.  Salonen needed the music also.

Several interesting aspects.  A set of drums was placed up front, and a percussionist came out after the first movement to hit them (for lack of a better term).  He also had some “rattles” that he would shake.  There was a speaker placed in the front also, I assume it was used to broadcast some preprogrammed music that sounded like bird calls.  (I am not sure if it was bird calls, but that seems to be a Finnish favorite.)  The concerto is “performed in three movements” which are fast, slow, fast; naturally there are slow passages in the fast movements, and vice versa.  A lot of tremolo was used in the orchestra strings.  (This turns out to be true of both nights’ programs.)

Truls Mork and Esa-Pekka Salonen after performing the Salonen Cello Concerto.  Notice the drums on the right, and the speaker between Mork and Salonen, partially blocked by the music stand for the soloist.

I hadn’t taken notes during a concert for a long time, but couldn’t help myself when the second movement started: slow movement begins with a bang, Mork has great techniques and is precise (minor intonation programs on rare occasions), the harmonization – especially by the flute – produces an interesting effect, demonstrates the sounds a cello can make, glissandos sound like ghosts wailing, cacophony plus drums.

What words did I conclude my notetaking with?  Instrument abuse and mental torture.  Perhaps that what Salonen meant in the quote cited above?  As a first time listener, there were several occasions I wanted that passage to end, not only because I wondered – for instance – how many glissandos on how many strings does one need, but that do we need to see if the musician would “fail” after – say – five tries.  Bottom line?  If given a chance, I would listen to it again.

The concert began with a short piece by Sibelius.  The tone poem Oceanides is based on Greek myth and describes the thousands of sea nymphs born to Oceanus and Tethys, his sister.  Salonen put the orchestra “volume control” to great use in describing what must be cresting and ebbing of these great waves.  Sibelius wrote this for the Norfolk Music Festival in 1914, and travelled to Connecticut to conduct it, collecting an honorary degree from Yale in the process.

I wish I had studied the Firebird before attending this concert.  That would have made the program much more interesting.  As it was, I needed the anchor provided by the familiar tunes to follow the program along.  Again the piece was tailor-made (not that Stravinsky was thinking about the Philharmonia Orchestra) for the abilities of this orchestra.  One remark I wanted to make: as exciting as the passage “Infernal Dance” was, it reminded me of how Trifonov did that by himself, on a piano.

After the Firebird. He can make a deep bow.

Salonen conducts with precision and attention to details.  He will become the music director of San Francisco Symphony in 2020, succeeding Michael Tilson Thomas.

The program lasted until 10:15 pm, so I had to take a late train home, getting in a little before 12:30 am.

Philharmonia Orchestra – Esa-Pekka Salonen, conductor. March 10, 2019.

David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra (Seat Q101, $66).

Program

Symphony No. 7 in E major, WAB 107 (1881-83) by Bruckner (1824-1896).

A couple of months ago Lincoln Center had this sale of several of its “Great Performers” series.  I bought two concerts each for this orchestra and the London Philharmonic (in April).

The Philharmonia Orchestra had programs for Sunday March 10 and Monday March 11, I am writing this review after having attended both of them, so I will be making some general remarks, and some about the specific pieces in the programs.

First, the Philharmonia is a big orchestra.  For both concerts the members took up all the space on stage.  In the roster were 10 cellos and 8 basses (although I only remember seeing 8 cellos on stage), and there was a large brass section as well.

Second, the volume dynamics had an enormous range, going from very soft to very loud.  To their credit, it was never harsh, and for the 3/11 program I was in Row G.

Third, the brass section was competent, most of the time.  There were moments of tentativeness when they were by themselves.  Soft and firm, particularly, gave them trouble.  But few horn players are as competent as Philip Myers, even though some complain he plays too loudly.

These traits also characterized how I heard the Bruckner.  Suffice it to say the Bruckner that has stuck with me was his eighth, performed by the New York Philharmonic under Zubin Mehta.  This afternoon’s performance didn’t quite rise to that level.

Not that I could find anything wrong with it, it’s just that being loud for loudness’s sake, or being soft to show how well the section players may showcase their technical abilities, do not by themselves take the listener through a journey.

Per the Playbill, Bruckner was an admirer of Wagner.  When Wagner died in early 1883, Bruckner, working on the slow movement at the time, added a coda described as “the final reiteration of a sad chorale intoned by four Wagner tubas, which the master had used in Der Ring des Nibelungen and that Bruckner now introduced into the symphonic repertory.”  Come to think of it, to the uninitiated (that would include me, even though I had heard this before) this symphony could have been passed off as being written by Wagner.

Other aspects of Bruckner that I didn’t know.  First is he was viewed as “a devout, provincial, rather pedantic composer who managed nonetheless to create magnificent symphonies;” second, when the famed conductor Hermann Levi conducted this symphony for the first time, a critic asked “how is it possible that you remained unknown to us for so long?”  Bruckner was 70 then.

Salonen and the Philharmoia Orchestra.

The applause was thunderous.  All my reservations aside, I was glad to be at this concert, and was looking forward to the one Monday night.

I left church as soon as the sermon concluded and drove up to the South Amboy train station, getting close to “real” speeding.  I did make the train by a couple of minutes.  The program started at 3 pm, was about 64 minutes long, so I caught the 5:07 pm train back home.

New Jersey Symphony – Jun Markl, conductor; Ingrid Fliter, piano. March 9, 2019.

Count Basie Theater, Red Bank, NJ.  Orchestra (Seat U115, $28).

Program

Prelude a l’apres-midi d’un faune (1891-94) by Debussy (1862-1918).

Piano Concerto On. 1 in G Minor, Op. 25 (1830-31) by Mendelssohn (1809-1847).

Four Sea Interludes from Peter Grimes, Op. 33a (1944-45) by Britten (1913-1976).

La Mer (1903-05) by Debussy.

Some concerts are simply uninspiring.  Despite my best efforts in trying to appreciate it, this concert is one of them.  I can think of other words and phrases: going through the motions, lackluster, phoning it in, … Perhaps the only excuse is a performer plays to an audience, and the audience wasn’t there.

There were many empty seats tonight, not a good sign.  Photo taken a few minutes before concert start.

My problem with the concert started even before I went.  With a title of “Debussy Masterworks” one would expect quite a bit of Debussy in the program.  If you count the minutes, there were 33 minutes of it in a 70-minute program – not even half.  While I understand a concert’s programming depends on input from a pianist, but picking a Mendelssohn piece simply doesn’t make sense, at least not to this listener.

Both Debussy pieces could have sounded better: more surreal in the Faun and more real in La Mer.

I did get more out of the non-Debussy pieces.  Mendelssohn wrote his first piano concerto when he was very young, and the work heralded the large number of compositions he completed during his tragically short life.  This was also the first time we saw the Argentine pianist Fliter (who now lives in Europe).  She was very business-like in dispatching – competently, I might add – the piece.  Going over my blog, I had good things to say about my prior listens to this concerto; I am not sure today’s performance rose to that level.

 Fliter and Markl after the Mendelssohn Piano Concerto.

At the conclusion of the concert.

And to be fair, I also enjoyed the Interludes by Britten.

The next NJSO concert we will be attending will be led by Zhang.  Which makes me wonder, has the NJSO reverted to this Jekyll-and-Hyde, as I characterized it when Lacombe was the music director?  We shall see.

We spent the afternoon at Hoboken before driving down to Red Bank for the event.

Metropolitan Opera – Verdi’s Falstaff. March 8, 2019.

Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra (Seat DD30, $25).

Story.  See previous entry.

Conductor – Richard Farnes.  Dr. Gaius – Tony Stevenson, Sir John Falstaff – Ambrogio Maestri, Bardolfo – Keith Jameson, Pistola – Richard Berstein, Meg Page – Jennifer Johnson Cano, Alice Ford – Helena Dix, Mistress Quickly – Marie-Nicole Lemieux, Nanneta – Golda Schultz, Fenton – Francesco Demuro, Ford – Juan Jesus Rodriguez.

I enjoy Verdi’s Otello and MacBeth, operas based on Shakespeare’s plays of the same title.  Falstaff, somehow, never appealed to me that much.  Maybe it’s because comedies don’t appeal to me that much, or Verdi’s last opera sounds so different from his earlier works.

Either the Playbill is playing things up, or I am just too dense for this level of sophistication: I must say for me Falstaff can be seen every five or ten years, not more frequently than that.  A couple of quotes from the Playbill that were a bit over the top: “more truly Shakespearean than its Shakespearean source,” and “the complex counter-rhythms of the ensemble that ends Act I are both funny and the perfect depiction of people at cross-purposes.”  Perhaps true to an assiduous student of the opera, but not to a casual listener (this is my third encounter.)

A recent WQXR broadcast had during the intermission an interview with several of the leading ladies in this season’s production.  Ailyn Perez as Alice Ford (a-li-ce in Italian) was billed as “first among equals” (my phrase).  Tonight’s Alice was sung by Helena Dix, from Melbourne, Australia, in her Met debut.  She did okay.  The one new voice was that of Golda Schultz, and could she sing.  Her voice was silky smooth, and she could hold her breath.

I saw this production when it was first introduced at the Met in 2013 (a bit over 5 years ago.)  I remember many of the sets, but don’t remember the one where everybody wore horns, which one would think was among the most memorable. Similarly the 10-voice fugue escaped my memory, so I made sure I caught it today.  In that cast were some familiar names: Christian van Horn as Pistola, Angela Meade as Alice, and Stephanie Blythe as Quickly.  Cano and Jameson sang the same roles.  The conductor was Levine, and he again is the one who shall not be mentioned.

Another quibble was the kitchen scene.  It was lit so brightly that I had trouble reading the LED panel.  Perhaps not necessary as the action spoke for itself, but being able to read the punchlines might have helped.

Curtain Call.  From left: Dr. Gaius, Bardolfo or Pistola, Nanetta, Ford, Alice, Falstaff, Fenton, Quickly, Meg Page, Bardolfo or Pistola.  We didn't wait around for the conductor to get on stage.

The New York Times review is quite positive.  The reviewer mentions the production has a subtext of feminist ascendancy.  One can argue if that's the case, but if it is, isn't it already in the original play, or at least when this production first ran in 2013?

There were quite a few empty seats, and we moved much closer to the center aisle at the beginning of the performance (say seat DD12).  I bought these rush tickets using my cell phone while inside a coffee shop; and I didn’t get started until 12 noon.  Cheap seats evidently meant it was okay to abandon basic audience décor as the lady behind us thought it was okay to turn on her cell phone and unwrap candy during the performance.

We took the train up, so it was after midnight when we got home.

New York Philharmonic – Long Yu, conductor; Yo-Yo Ma, cello, Wu Man, pipa. March 7, 2019.

David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra (Seat CC113, $62.50).

Program

Prelude to Khovanshchina (1874; orch. 1883) by Musorgsky (1839-81), orch. Rimsky-Korsakov (1844-1908).

A Happy Excursion, Concerto for Pipa, Cello, and Orchestra (2018) by Zhao (b. 1973).

Symphony No. 6 in B minor, Op. 74, Pathetique (1893) by Tchaikovsky (1840-93).

The title of the concert was “Yo-Yo Ma and Tchaikovsky,” so one can guess what the main attractions were, and this was mostly – but not completely – true.

The pipa rightfully had an equal billing in the concerto written by Zhao Lin.  While Wu Man (family name Wu) might justifiably be called “the world’s premier pipa virtuoso,” this had to be one of the few times (if not the first) the instrument appeared with the New York Philharmonic.

A Happy Excursion evidently refers to the chapter “逍遥游” in the writings of a famous Chinese philosopher and Taoist Zhuangzi.  The chapter is on the transcendence of everything; quoting from the Playbill: the perfect man has no self, the spiritual man has no achievement, and the true sage has no name.  (Being able to quote doesn’t equate to being able to understand.)  Which was well and good, I think I know transcendence when I hear it, or so I thought.

The♩ 25-minute work has three movements, simply marked: Movement I: ♩ = 66, II: ♩= 56; III: ♩ = 170.  When Ma and Wu came on stage, Ma took the mike and explained to the audience what the music meant.  He compared the three movements to three periods in Chinese history.  The first movement was before the kingdom was formed (I suppose that meant before the first emperor Qin?); the second movement was during the Tang dynasty, height of Chinese civilization where churches, temples, mosques, and synagogues coexisted (that is true, I am not sure it was a peaceful coexistence, though); the third movement referred to present day China, the golden age of culture (I am not sure I heard that right.)  While interesting and probably helpful to understanding the music, Ma’s description also caused confusion in my mind.  On top of that, Wu played a tune from the Tang dynasty rediscovered by Zhao and incorporated into the second movement; I could not tell how it was used.

The music was interesting enough, though.  The pipa is a rather soft-spoken instrument, but it came off quite well, especially in passages where it was the solo instrument or in a duet with the cello.  The only two techniques (and I am sure there are many) I know about – strumming and moving the strings on the frets – were put to great use.  Ma’s expression is usually that of joy as he performs; he was all serious tonight.

The four people standing are (L to R): Ma, Yu, Zhao, and Wu.  All (ethnic) Chinese affair. 

I wonder how many pieces Zhao has written that combines a western instrument with a Chinese one.  I did hear his piece “Duo” a couple of years ago, in Hong Kong, where the cello was paired with the Sheng.  There Ma was the cellist as well.  I also remarked that I wouldn’t have translated the title the way it was in the program.  Furthermore, “Duo” also references the Tang Dynasty.  Perhaps both pieces are silk road project-related.

Reading back over my Blog entry, I was quite impressed with Zhao as a composer back in 2016.  Not so much today.

Tchaikovsky’s Pathetique Symphony can be downright depressing, if performed well.  Most performances show off the orchestra’s skills, with repetitions of some nice melodies.  Most movements end in a whimper, so the fact that the third ends triumphally usually get some applause from those in the audience who think that is the end.  Yu led a very controlled performance, to which the players responded well; but that was about it, the pathos or sadness only came through occasionally, oftentimes because I was looking for it.

A large ensemble was used for both the Musorgsky and Tchaikovsky pieces.  There were 12 cellos, for instance.

The program began with a short but pleasant piece that Musorgsky sketched out for his opera.  He died with many compositions incomplete.  In this case Rimsky-Korsakov orchestrated what Musorgsky had done.

Around the second movement of the Tchaikovsky Yo-Yo Ma came to the audience (quietly, in Tier 2).  Anne remarked that he wasn’t that enthusiastic at the conclusion of the symphony either.

The New York Times review heaps high praise on both the Zhao and Tchaikovsky’s pieces.  I am not sure I share the reviewer's enthusiasm.  And the composer is Mr. Zhao, not Mr. Lin.

We took the train into the city, and grabbed a snack at Penn Station before returning home.

New Jersey Symphony – Hans Graf, conductor; Jeffrey Kahane, piano. March 2, 2019.

Prudential Hall at NJPAC, Newark, NJ.  Grand Tier (Seat D103, $28.)

Le Tombeau de Couperin (1914-17, 1919) by Ravel (1875-1937).

Piano Concerto No. 4 in G Major, Op. 58 (1805-06) by Beethoven (1770-1827).

Symphony No. 1 in F Minor, Op. 10 (1925) by Shostakovich (1906-1975).

It is not good that my take away from this concert was that “wow, there is a difference between the New York Phil and the New Jersey Symphony!”  Unfortunately, that was foremost on my mind as the concert drew to a close.

To be fair, however, this was a comparison of “good” versus “great.”  On its own merits, each piece this evening was performed well, although the programming may not be any more than a collection of unrelated pieces that add up to – say – 90 minutes.

Ravel’s Le Tombeau de Couperin must be in vogue nowadays.  This was the third time we heard the piece (2007 and 2015 prior to this).  We will be visiting the Bay Area next week, and I looked at the SF Symphony to see if there was anything interesting, and this piece is also on their program.  Today’s performance didn’t add a lot to my lukewarm reaction to my two prior listens, I wonder if the SF Symphony performance (led by MTT) will do it – if we decide to go, that is.

After the performance of Ravel's Le Tombeau de Couperin.

One thing I did appreciate tonight was the clean sound of the orchestra during the Ravel piece.  That cleanness carried over to the Beethoven. As many commentators have remarked, this piece has an overall calm quality to it that is seldom found in Beethoven’s compositions (even the Pastoral Symphony has a stormy movement).  Kahane put in a delightful performance.  Oftentimes in the past Kahane was both the conductor and pianist, and I missed the give and take of the chamber aspect of it.  Today we had no such problem.  The one thing I noticed, though, was the “cleanness” of the sound – while we could hear the sound clearly, it was a bit too flat and muffled for my taste.

Kahane and Graf after Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 4.

Shostakovich wrote his first symphony as his senior thesis, at the ripe old age of 19.  Not being an expert on Shostakovich (or any other composer, for that matter), I couldn’t tell exactly how this compared with his later works.  One distinguishing factor was it didn’t show the gloominess that would be very evident in his later works.

A larger orchestra was used for Shostakovich's first symphony.

There were quite a few solo lines by various section leaders, they all did well.

Graf certainly appeared competent in his job.  Per the Program Notes he has no “regular” job; he led the Houston Symphony until 2013.

It was a good performance, and it was unfortunate that attendance was not good.

New York Philharmonic – Herbert Blomstedt, conductor; Jean-Yves Thibaudet, piano. February 28, 2019.

David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra (Seat AA112, $62.50).

Program

Peer Gynt Suite No. 1, Op. 46 (1874-75/1888) by Grieg (1843-1907).

Piano Concerto in A minor, Op. 16 (1868-95) by Grieg.

Symphony No. 8 in G major, Op. 88 (1889) by Dvorak (1841-1904).

For the record, Peer Gynt, per the quote of Henrik Ibsen in the Playbill, “was a real person who lived in the Gudbrandsal, probably around the end of the last century or this one … not much more is known … haven’t had much on which to base my poem …”  With that he wrote a “meandering tale about an anti-hero … ‘ with no ruling passion … who turns out finally to have neither center nor self.’”  Even more interesting is the music Grieg wrote for the play, from which four movements were extracted to become Suite No. 1 (Morning Mood, Ase’s Death, Anitra’s Dance, and In the Hall of the Mountain King.)  [The Playbill has additional information about the poem and the music.]

My first reaction in listening to the music was that the New York Philharmonic sound could be velvety and sweet, despite a recent review in the New York Times.  The music was enjoyable to begin with, and in the hands of a great conductor and musicians of a great orchestra, it sounded downright delightful.

Applause at the end of Peer Gynt Suite No. 1.

Grieg’s piano concerto is difficult technically, no doubt, but there is no shortage of pianists that can deliver the brilliance required from the opening flourish to the last A major chord.  However, I have heard few performances that could string together these brilliant episodes into a coherent and compelling story.  Tonight’s performance was one of those.  There was no instance where I just wanted to music to move on to the next ‘highlight.’

Thibaudet shaking hands with Staples at conclusion of Grieg's Piano Concerto.

As with Grieg’s piano concerto, my enjoyment of Dvorak’s 8^th runs hot and cold.  Today we got one of these hot ones where every moment was to be relished.  Staples had a solo line that came through beautifully (although I would have preferred a stronger sound.)

One minor quibble I have would be how he seemed to emphasize individual lines and exaggerated the dynamics and tempo changes.  A matter of taste, no doubt.

When I first saw Blomstedt as a conductor (first blog entry 2012), he was old.  He is now 91 years old (Playbill under-reports by one year.)  Other than a slight slump in his posture, he conducted with as much energy as he did the last time I saw him.  His bio entry in the Playbill starts with “Noble, charming, sober, modest …”  Not bragging if it’s true, I guess – although I would say “modest” probably doesn’t belong on that list.

The New York Times review is full of praise.

We took the train in, and had a light snack at Wasabi’s at Penn Station before taking the 10:20 pm train back, where we met Chung Shu returning from a Carnegie Hall concert.