Michael Francis was the conductor for the evening, a young guy from England, and so the trend continues of the orchestra sounding better under guest conductors than under Morlot. I still attribute it to coincidences since I've only heard two concerts with Morlot conducting, but it has been an unsettling trend so far, that's for sure.
When Francis came on stage for the first time, he took a microphone and began to talk about the first piece. Classic. Once again, the music that is too ugly to speak for itself in the language of music (that is, the language of harmony and melody) must be spoken for in the language of words in order to compensate. He went through the entire piece, from beginning to end, talking about what happens where and what's describing what. He prefaced this in-depth summary with the common catch phrases like "so you can better follow" or "to enhance your enjoyment," etc. If you have to talk about it this much beforehand, it's essentially an apology for the lack of beautiful substance in the music. However, Francis' talk was extremely entertaining, and quite enjoyable. He has a great personality and a great stage presence. So at least that partially compensated for the twenty-eight minutes of boredom that was to follow.
After that they shuffled the stage around a bit, and Vadim Gluzman came out to perform the Bruch Violin Concerto. Gluzman is an Israeli violinist, and a quite highly regarded one at that. I had a feeling his performance of the Bruch would be great, given that the particular style of expressivity present in much of Bruch's music has a very close relationship with Jewish traditions and expressivity.
Gluzman was incredible. He had a light in his face that at once encompassed pure innocence and worldly wisdom. He crafted out the phrases of Bruch's music with delicate mastery, his tone always clear as a bell, his bow changes always inaudible to the ear. He played with genuine passion, drawing out of the music everything that one could wish for. When he wasn't playing, he was enraptured with the music played by the orchestra, following along with his body, sometimes taking a few paces around the stage in movement with the music. The rich, driving minor sections of the first movement were contrasted by the more lyrical sections, which Gluzman executed with fine sensitivity and fluidity. And in the passage leading up to the frenzied and violent orchestral interlude, Gluzman and orchestra together grew and rose with such heightening intensity that it seems difficult at this moment to vividly recall any of it.
The orchestral interlude itself (my favorite part of the concerto) is a unique passage sans soloist in the first movement in which the orchestra plays a seemingly endless array of epic, violent gestures, and just when you think it might come to an end, it continues, and continues. I often envision epic battle scenes to this section. The Seattle Symphony on this occasion, under the inspired conducting of Maestro Francis, executed it with more fiery intensity than in any recording I've ever heard. There was smoke rising up from the orchestra as they blazed through it. It was astounding. I thought to myself without a doubt that this is the experience of being in the presence of a first tier orchestra.
After that, things calm down again, and after some repeated material from the beginning of the movement, we settle down into a single note held by some of the strings, which leads with no rest into the second movement.
I would try to describe what the second movement was like, but all I can think of is a river of caramel or melted chocolate. Seriously. There's nothing else I can say. I'll have to leave it at that.
The last movement was exquisite. Bold and lively, Gluzman gave it a sparkly intensity from beginning to end, the thirds always impeccably in tune, the virtuosic runs glazing with subtlety and clarity. The orchestra kept up its wonderful playing as well throughout the whole piece, and on the whole it was really a top notch performance in every way. This was a performance I had been looking forward to for a long time, and it delivered wonderfully.
Shortly after intermission began, we were about to get up to go to the Friends Lounge when another young couple showed up at our box, seeking to move into the seats next to us for the second half of the concert. We were in the first two seats of the Founders Tier on the right side, U-1 and U-2, and the two seats next to us had been uninhabited during the first half of the concert. Christine and I then left to go get tea in the lounge. When we returned, that couple was indeed sitting in U-3 and U-4. After we sat down I asked them where they came from, and they said they had been farther back on the Founders Tier, on the opposite side, and that they got campus club tickets. Campus club is where you can get $12 seats anywhere in the hall that are available on the day of the concert. I sat in the Founders Tier twice with campus club during my time at UW.
Maestro Francis then returned to the stage to conduct Elgar's Enigma Variations. Now the orchestra got to show off their A game in a romantic orchestral piece. It was played at the highest level, with Francis' inspired and engaging conducting constantly keeping the orchestra on their toes and performing the music in a most involved and mastered manner. The slow, lush variations were beautiful and flowing, the fast ones were crisp, loud and punctuated, and the piece flowed along in an essentially flawless performance. The highlight of the variations is of course Nimrod, the one he wrote for a very dear friend of his. At the end of the previous variation there is one note left hanging by one of the string sections (very much like the transition to the second movement in the Bruch), and then the rest of the strings join in the most beautiful, precious gem throughout the work. When they began Nimrod, it was so quiet that it forces you to snap to attention. That kind of magical, unbelievably hushed pianississimo that sounds as if the orchestra has magically put all the notes of all the strings into the sound level of a solo viola.
So it began essentially in what we could call a cocoon of sound, a precious jewel, a source of infinite beauty from which all things are possible. And from there it grew. It grew, and grew. Like the expansion of the universe itself the music stretched out farther and farther, rising and rising, Francis' genuine, pure gestures and impassioned facial expressions keeping the orchestra unified and growing as one. As the climax of the movement was reached it soared, like the freest being imaginable, it soared through the hall. And then it came to an end, and it was over. The rest of the variations commenced, and I felt as though the question should be asked "wait, what happened there?" in reference to Nimrod. There's something clearly different about that movement compared to the rest of the variations. All of a sudden we're in this magical world, and then suddenly we're back to normal as if nothing happened.
The ending of the piece, aided by the organ, reached great heights of expansiveness in itself, and was certainly louder than Nimrod, but it did not compare in terms of beauty and magic. Nimrod will always be the heart of the Enigma Variations.
So this was a wildly successful concert. I gave Vadim Gluzman the first standing ovation I've given anybody in 2013, and then gave the Seattle Symphony the first standing ovation I've given them in 2013 for the Elgar. Truly a top notch concert.
Next up is Mozart and Bruckner on April 13th!
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http://www.seattlesymphony.org/symphony/buy/single/production.aspx?id=12230&src=t&dateid=12230
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