This weekend, the KWSO wrapped up its Signature Series with a rousing season finale concert featuring the famous Symphony No. 9 in D Minor Op. 125 by Beethoven -- the renowned "Choral Symphony." The concert was conducted by Music Director Designate Andrei Feher, who officially begins his four-year contract with the orchestra in the fall.
On Friday night, I was invited to a patrons' open rehearsal and heard the orchestra and massed choirs working through the choral finale which makes this symphony one of the great landmarks in the history of music. That rehearsal, and the performance on Sunday afternoon, set me thinking about one of the perennial grey areas in the performing arts. That's the whole question of when an interpretation deviates so far from the creator's intentions that it becomes invalid due to eccentricity or even to ignoring the directions found in the creative source material (the score, in this case).
While it's true that performing artists must interpret the material, it's equally true that not every possible interpretation is equally valid. As in any musical work, there are varying possibilities in terms of tempo, dynamics, orchestral balance, and so on, which could be considered as within reasonable limits. But equally, there are many possibilities which are well beyond the scope of the reasonable, and therefore effectively wrong.
While it's true that performing artists must interpret the material, it's equally true that not every possible interpretation is equally valid. As in any musical work, there are varying possibilities in terms of tempo, dynamics, orchestral balance, and so on, which could be considered as within reasonable limits. But equally, there are many possibilities which are well beyond the scope of the reasonable, and therefore effectively wrong.
In this Ninth, the interpretation versus eccentricity question definitely appeared during the first and third movements. Andrei Feher left me with an impression of a conductor who likes to play a tempo at all times and keep it lively. He charged through the first movement in 13 minutes flat (two recordings in my collection take respectively 17 and 18 minutes), and his slow movement flew by in 14 minutes (versus 18 and 20 in the two recordings).
The basic speed of the first movement, although fast, was not so problematic as the conductor's refusal to let the music breathe and relax a bit from time to time. Even the quieter pages, normally a respite from the fury, felt tense and edgy at the unvarying speed. The great buildup to the final coda lost all sense of mystery due to the metronomic precision of the beat.
But the slow movement -- one of the great miracles of all music -- was turned from adagio molto e cantabile into a fast-flowing andante moderato that did a great disservice to the lyricism and sense of peace which normally imbues this music. Again, as in the first movement, there was no allowance of flexibility in tempo, no feeling that the music could be allowed to breathe for itself, in its own good time. When Feher finally eased his relentless forward push to allow the solo horn cadenza to flower gently, the difference was almost shocking as we were -- for that one moment -- taken back into the magical world of the adagio as it ought to sound.
The difference was obvious when we reached the second-movement scherzo, which the conductor took at a much more central tempo. Not only was the speed suddenly in the ballpark, but the crisp execution of all the dotted figures in all departments of the orchestra was especially noteworthy (one moment of over-zealous attack from the timpanist excepted). The tricky speed and rhythm transition from scherzo to trio was managed beautifully by Feher in both spots where it occurs.
Throughout the work, the orchestra played with great polish and as much finesse as the speeds allowed them to deploy.
And so (after the overspeeded slow movement) to the great choral finale, where the performance was in large measure redeemed by the powerful and closely unified singing of the assembled choirs and a dream team of soloists.
Bass-baritone Daniel Okulitch commanded instant attention with his powerful voice, clear diction, and emphatic delivery of the opening recitative. The choir matched him with their two forceful cries of "Freude!" ("Joy"), in which the exclamation mark was plainly audible, and the choral finale was off and running.
In the second verse, mezzo-soprano Jennifer Enns Modolo made a striking contribution in one of her two brief moments of glory, and soprano Erin Wall shaped her lines with sensitivity to the text and with power to spare.
Notably, the solo quartet fused together as a quartet, voices well balanced and with no virtuoso showing-off such as I have heard in some other performances.
Adam Luther sang powerfully and cleanly in the Turkish march variation, heroically coping with all the leaps and runs at the brisk speed -- although a few notes and words got lost in the rush.
I was forcefully reminded of an important acoustic aspect of the Centre in the Square -- choral sound tends to rocket clearly and crisply out into the auditorium even as the orchestral sound reaches the ear with a plusher, softer-grained tone at higher volume levels. The unanimity and tonal blend of the combined choirs (totalling about 150 voices) were noteworthy and gripping.
Equally notable was the security of the soprano and tenor sections in the cruelly high and exposed lines which are the bane of high-voice choral singers world-wide. It's not so much that the singers can't reach the notes, but getting there and staying there while sustaining the tonal blend of the choir is another and much tougher challenge.
The rest of the multi-section finale was truly impressive, right up until the choir's closing phrases before the orchestral coda. Here, instead of a powerful final utterance from the voices, we got a fizzle as Feher again chose to charge right ahead, a tempo, through a passage which is clearly marked in the score as maestoso. There was no majesty at all, simply an undignified rush to spit out the words as quickly as possible before the orchestra shot onwards into the powerful coda.
Sadly, then, I must conclude that this was a wilful, wayward performance of the Ninth, and one which did not serve the music or the composer well throughout. Where it was good, it was impressive, but the numerous eccentric choices made by the conductor were very off-putting to say the least.
**********
The first part of the concert presented a considerable bonus, Mijidwewinan ("Messages") by Barbara Croall, for symphony orchestra and Anishinaabekwe performer, composed in 2009. This 15-minute work presented a fascinating blend of traditional recitation, chanting, drumming, and flute playing with the sounds of the orchestra. Composer Croall herself appeared as the traditional performer on this occasion.
Printed programme notes and a verbal introduction from the stage were helpful in following the complex and multi-layered structure. In ten linked sections, the work traverses a day from full night through sunrise to noon, then to twilight, sunset, and full night again. A few backdrop projections helped to highlight this sense of time passing. But the music intentionally also traces an arc from a past where peoples lived in harmony with nature to a present where that harmony is gravely imperilled and into a future where great catastrophes will ensue until we find our way back to that primal harmonious existence.
Croall's performance, in voice, gesture, and face, communicated this broad outline, along with the unique and haunting sounds of the traditional chants and the cedar flute. The orchestral sound palette, now resembling updated Debussy, now in a more modern and acerbic language, supported the arc of the vision and music.
This piece left with a deep longing to enter back into that sound world and gain a clearer feeling for what was being said to me.
Part of the problem was the lack, in the programme, of any printed text for this work (or for the Beethoven, for that matter). A printed text, or even a synopsis, section by section, might perhaps have clarified the music better -- it's hard to say. But the depth and power of Croall's musical vision was unmistakable and totally gripping.
The basic speed of the first movement, although fast, was not so problematic as the conductor's refusal to let the music breathe and relax a bit from time to time. Even the quieter pages, normally a respite from the fury, felt tense and edgy at the unvarying speed. The great buildup to the final coda lost all sense of mystery due to the metronomic precision of the beat.
But the slow movement -- one of the great miracles of all music -- was turned from adagio molto e cantabile into a fast-flowing andante moderato that did a great disservice to the lyricism and sense of peace which normally imbues this music. Again, as in the first movement, there was no allowance of flexibility in tempo, no feeling that the music could be allowed to breathe for itself, in its own good time. When Feher finally eased his relentless forward push to allow the solo horn cadenza to flower gently, the difference was almost shocking as we were -- for that one moment -- taken back into the magical world of the adagio as it ought to sound.
The difference was obvious when we reached the second-movement scherzo, which the conductor took at a much more central tempo. Not only was the speed suddenly in the ballpark, but the crisp execution of all the dotted figures in all departments of the orchestra was especially noteworthy (one moment of over-zealous attack from the timpanist excepted). The tricky speed and rhythm transition from scherzo to trio was managed beautifully by Feher in both spots where it occurs.
Throughout the work, the orchestra played with great polish and as much finesse as the speeds allowed them to deploy.
And so (after the overspeeded slow movement) to the great choral finale, where the performance was in large measure redeemed by the powerful and closely unified singing of the assembled choirs and a dream team of soloists.
Bass-baritone Daniel Okulitch commanded instant attention with his powerful voice, clear diction, and emphatic delivery of the opening recitative. The choir matched him with their two forceful cries of "Freude!" ("Joy"), in which the exclamation mark was plainly audible, and the choral finale was off and running.
In the second verse, mezzo-soprano Jennifer Enns Modolo made a striking contribution in one of her two brief moments of glory, and soprano Erin Wall shaped her lines with sensitivity to the text and with power to spare.
Notably, the solo quartet fused together as a quartet, voices well balanced and with no virtuoso showing-off such as I have heard in some other performances.
Adam Luther sang powerfully and cleanly in the Turkish march variation, heroically coping with all the leaps and runs at the brisk speed -- although a few notes and words got lost in the rush.
I was forcefully reminded of an important acoustic aspect of the Centre in the Square -- choral sound tends to rocket clearly and crisply out into the auditorium even as the orchestral sound reaches the ear with a plusher, softer-grained tone at higher volume levels. The unanimity and tonal blend of the combined choirs (totalling about 150 voices) were noteworthy and gripping.
Equally notable was the security of the soprano and tenor sections in the cruelly high and exposed lines which are the bane of high-voice choral singers world-wide. It's not so much that the singers can't reach the notes, but getting there and staying there while sustaining the tonal blend of the choir is another and much tougher challenge.
The rest of the multi-section finale was truly impressive, right up until the choir's closing phrases before the orchestral coda. Here, instead of a powerful final utterance from the voices, we got a fizzle as Feher again chose to charge right ahead, a tempo, through a passage which is clearly marked in the score as maestoso. There was no majesty at all, simply an undignified rush to spit out the words as quickly as possible before the orchestra shot onwards into the powerful coda.
Sadly, then, I must conclude that this was a wilful, wayward performance of the Ninth, and one which did not serve the music or the composer well throughout. Where it was good, it was impressive, but the numerous eccentric choices made by the conductor were very off-putting to say the least.
**********
The first part of the concert presented a considerable bonus, Mijidwewinan ("Messages") by Barbara Croall, for symphony orchestra and Anishinaabekwe performer, composed in 2009. This 15-minute work presented a fascinating blend of traditional recitation, chanting, drumming, and flute playing with the sounds of the orchestra. Composer Croall herself appeared as the traditional performer on this occasion.
Printed programme notes and a verbal introduction from the stage were helpful in following the complex and multi-layered structure. In ten linked sections, the work traverses a day from full night through sunrise to noon, then to twilight, sunset, and full night again. A few backdrop projections helped to highlight this sense of time passing. But the music intentionally also traces an arc from a past where peoples lived in harmony with nature to a present where that harmony is gravely imperilled and into a future where great catastrophes will ensue until we find our way back to that primal harmonious existence.
Croall's performance, in voice, gesture, and face, communicated this broad outline, along with the unique and haunting sounds of the traditional chants and the cedar flute. The orchestral sound palette, now resembling updated Debussy, now in a more modern and acerbic language, supported the arc of the vision and music.
This piece left with a deep longing to enter back into that sound world and gain a clearer feeling for what was being said to me.
Part of the problem was the lack, in the programme, of any printed text for this work (or for the Beethoven, for that matter). A printed text, or even a synopsis, section by section, might perhaps have clarified the music better -- it's hard to say. But the depth and power of Croall's musical vision was unmistakable and totally gripping.
No comments:
Post a Comment