October 28th, 2013: Organ series: Stephen Cleobury

I decided to go to this organ recital at Benaroya Hall on the evening of Monday, October 28th. I had never heard the Watjen Concert Organ in a solo recital, and there was Bach, Mendelssohn and Schumann on the program, so I figured it would be nice. Stephen Cleobury was the organist, and apparently he's a rather well known British organist who is also the director of the King's College Choir.

I'm not sure why this was the case, but I found myself bored throughout most of the program. The two Bach pieces he played were not famous works and were not among Bach's best. The Mendelssohn was also exactly what you would expect from an unknown Mendelssohn work. I don't know what it was really. I found myself surprised at how unengaged I was. The music was beautiful, and the organ sound was majestic; I just couldn't get very into it for some reason. I did notice that Cleobury seemed to be sight reading a lot of the pieces, and that could have been a factor that contributed to the lack of impact on me. Or perhaps with all the multitasking required on the organ, it always appears as though the performer is sight reading. I don't know.

The most amusing part of the evening was the man who sat next to me in Box B. His facial expression resembled the angel Clarence from It's a Wonderful Life, he had a possessed look in his eyes, and he stank. He kept talking to me before the recital began, explaining to me the difference between an organ with electronic functionality vs. one where the action of pressing the key down directly and physically opens the valves. And he said things like "I've been coming to these recitals since that instrument first spoke. In 2000." I really wouldn't have minded if he didn't stink.

Anyways, the whole program had a kind of progression through time theme to it. The first half went Bach, Mendelssohn, Schumann, Reger. Then the second half started very early again with Couperin, but then went Franck, Vierne and Messiaen. Before the second half began, Cleobury picked up a microphone and spoke to the audience for several minutes. I couldn't understand half of what he said due to a combination of the thick British accent and the fact that I was situated almost directly under the speakers. Clarence next to me seemed to understand every word though.

I found myself drifting into half-asleep states throughout a lot of the performance. I know that the Franck was a very grand, technically impressive piece, and it garnered above average applause. Upon its conclusion Clarence looked at me with an intense gleam in his eye. I heard parts of it, but I was drifting in and out of consciousness at others. It's not that I was even that tired, I just became tired as soon as a piece would be going for a few minutes.

I'm definitely going to be going to another of these organ recitals, because I'm really curious what it was that made me so disengaged on Monday. I want to know if a different organist and different repertoire will make things different.

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October 26th, 2013: Haydn & Tchaikovsky

Last night was the fourth Masterworks concert of the season. Guest conductor Alastair Willis conducted a reduced orchestra in Elgar's Serenade in E minor for Strings, Haydn's Cello Concerto in C major, "Mozart's" 37th symphony and Tchaikovsky's Serenade in C major for Strings. Pavel Gomziakov was soloing on the cello for the Haydn, and "Mozart" is in quotes because as you may know Mozart's 37th symphony is actually a symphony by Michael Haydn, which Mozart wrote a ninety second introduction to.

I had originally planned to opt out of this concert because I was trying to avoid the concerts where the orchestra is reduced due to sharing with the opera. They schedule the year so that the majority of those concerts are in the Mainly Mozart and Baroque & Wine series', but two Masterworks concerts this year also inevitably coincided with opera performances, this being one of them. However, now that I'm going alone to most concerts, I will be going to practically everything since I have a spare ticket from each Masterworks concert to exchange into something else!

Fortunately they managed to keep a great deal of the key string players in Benaroya Hall for this concert. With the Elgar and Tchaikovsky serenades for strings that was probably an obligation on their part. There were very few winds and brass employed throughout the evening, just a flute, a few oboes, a bassoon and some horns.

Alastair Willis opened the concert with the Serenade in E minor for Strings by Elgar. While I was immediately pleased with the lush fullness of the string sound, Willis' conducting was also immediately lacking. I couldn't point to any specifics as I don't know enough about it, but I can say that everything that would make a conductor great in my eyes wasn't there with Willis. He seemed to lack depth, and his gestures and facial expressions seemed almost to be an analogy to something he held in his mind, rather than a direct authentic expression. A fake smile was plastered on his face for much of the time, appearing to be trying to try to invoke excitement or warmth within the players. The tone of the strings was good due to the technical skill of the players, but Willis failed to bring it beyond its base default sound.

Willis is actually a great fan of the Elgar serenade, particularly the slow second movement. But even there, the serious facial expression he gave the orchestra before giving the downbeat seemed more to say "okay, here's the serious one, let's be grave" than to actually invoke graveness. I was ready for this piece to be over long before it was, especially since I'm a fan of the wonderfully light and tuneful Haydn cello concerto, which I believe I became familiar with many years ago when my brother Oliver was learning it.

After the Elgar the stage was reset for the Haydn, and Pavel Gomziakov came on stage followed by Alastair Willis. He took his bow and then situated himself on the customary cello soloist pedestal. And then I sowed my ears shut. Oh wait no, that's what I would have done if I could have seen into the future.

Willis led the orchestra through the orchestral introduction in much the same manner as he led them through the Elgar. His plastered smile was ever-present, and his light and ineffective gestures did little to alter or expand on the default sound of the orchestra. And then Pavel began the first solo section.

It was a joke. It really and truly was a joke. You know how sometimes you might be goofing off in the living room with some instruments, scores and a few friends? You might play things way too fast, too slow, too high, too low, in an exaggerated or humorous manner, etc? Pavel Gomziakov made a mockery out of every single note in the score, twisting it one way or another, accompanied by a comical and exaggerated facial expression. He was the utmost epitome of the 'show business' style of classical music performance which is so prevalent among young rising stars today. I would say he was hot on the heels of Lang Lang in this ghastly pretentiousness, but on further reflection I believe he may have actually usurped Lang Lang from his throne. No note was left alone to simply be played and delivered to the ear, no phrase was executed with a natural expression, the way one might speak, or hum to themselves. Notes that started at ppp, went to fff and returned to ppp within the length of a bow were followed by equally grotesque percussive uses of the bow on shorter notes, which were often accompanied by a facial expression which seemed to suggest walking on eggs or hot coals.

Within seconds of Pavel's first opening in the first movement, I actually inadvertently buried my face in my hand and just waited for it to be over. There was no way to elicit any enjoyment from the music in a situation like this, with the performer constantly snatching it out from under your ear and engaging in a macabre dance with it.

When the final movement finally ended the audience leapt to their feat in exuberant applause. Moments like that really make me think "What's the point? Why are we doing this? Why am I here? Why am I fighting to preserve this art form?" Then intermission began. I wandered about and eventually made my way into the Friends Lounge. I didn't have any tea though. Eventually a young usher guy started talking to me about the first half of the concert. I was very honest about my thoughts, feeling comfortable being so since I only had good things to say about the Seattle Symphony. I had a good little chat with him, and I'll probably bump into him again. I then returned to my seat for the Mozart/Haydn and the Tchaikovsky serenade.

Alastair Willis picked up a microphone before beginning the second half in order to talk about the nature of the Mozart/Haydn symphony. He didn't mention anything about Mozart's superstition about the number thirty-seven being the cause of his avoidance of writing a symphony with that number, but I'm pretty sure that that's the reason he didn't.

The one thing I learned from the talk was that it was Michael Haydn and not Joseph Haydn, whose symphony Mozart used. I had always assumed it was Joseph, but Michael makes more sense. And when I learned that I become more excited about hearing it because I've always been a fan of Michael Haydn's work. However, this particular symphony didn't enchant my ears very much, and I'm not sure whether it was the work or Willis who got in the way of that. The orchestra again sounded solid, and Willis fake smiled a lot, and it was nothing awfully memorable.

The last piece on the program was the Tchaikovsky Serenade for Strings. I wasn't sure if I had ever heard this work before, but I assumed I must have at some point. While it did not sound very familiar to me, I was surprised by how rich and beautiful it was. It had many minor aspects to it even though it was in the key of C major, and the string texture was always very full. Willis seemed to exercise just a bit more command over the orchestra in this piece, and I felt it was the strongest collaboration between conductor and orchestra that the evening had to offer. Even missing several players, the Seattle Symphony string section proved themselves quite well in this work. The last movement in particular really took off, and the fast excited passages near the end were bursting with energy. It's not a piece I'll be listening to again, but it was certainly a convincing performance of it.

Next up is an organ recital I'm going to tomorrow evening!

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October 19th, 2013: The Daughter of the Regiment at the Seattle Opera

Last night was the Opening Night performance of the Seattle Opera's 50th anniversary season. It was Donizetti's comic opera La Fille du Régiment (The Daughter of the Regiment).

I subscribed to two seats for the season, but couldn't find anybody available to come along tonight, so a ghost accompanied the seat next to me, and it turns out they actually quite enjoy opera. In any case, this was also my first time sitting in my subscription seats for an opera performance, and I must say I really like them. In fact, I might not move them at all even if I could afford any seat in the house.

Speight Jenkins took to the stage before the performance began, again receiving a vivacious applause very much like he did during the Ring when he came out to announce that their Brünnhilde was sick. This time when the crowd finally quieted, the first thing he did was to reassure everybody that nobody is sick. Then he acknowledged the opening of the 50th anniversary season, and asked those "charter subscribers" who had been subscribing for all 50 years to stand up. There were two or three of them that I could spot. Quite impressive. After that conductor Yves Abel entered the pit to begin the overture.

I'm semi-familiar with this opera due to the Metropolitan Opera Live in HD performance from a few years ago, with Natalie Dessay playing the role of Marie, the daughter of the regiment. There isn't a lot of really great music in it, but there are some deep moments, and certainly a lot of laughs. Opera houses take many liberties with a piece like this, inserting all kinds of jokes all over the place. Many of the jokes from the Met weren't seen tonight, but there were many new ones cooked up in this production that were nowhere to be found in the Met performance.

The overture was played very well. It's an extremely long, boring overture, but it was played as well as it could be played, and sparkled with life most of the time in spite of itself. Finally the curtain went up on a tavern in Tyrol, where the first act took place.

A regiment of the French army is stationed in Tyrol, led by Sergeant Sulpice (sung by Alexander Hajek). They have amongst them a girl that they found as an infant and brought up to be their daughter. The other principal characters we are introduced to at the beginning are the Marquise of Birkenfeld and her servant, Hortensius. The Marquise is a rich lady who wants to return to her mansion and doesn't bode well with war going on around her. The two of them make a comic duo, played by Joyce Castle and Karl Marx Reyes. Castle was a little bit on the older side, and it was beginning to show in her voice, but she had all the self-expression and humor necessary to make the role come to life. Hortensius was rather dryly interpreted in this production though. He looked a bit like a doctor, and he never engaged in any humor or antics that were extremely memorable.

Marie was sung by an excellent Sarah Coburn, who had a beautiful voice, great technique, and also acted quite well. And Tonio, her lover, was played by Lawrence Brownlee, a young tenor with a wonderful, creamy voice, but who unfortunately was quite a bit shorter than Coburn, making them a slightly awkward pair.

Throughout the first act the cast was all around wonderful, and the orchestra as well. There were absolutely no togetherness issues between the orchestra and singers, which seems to be the norm at the Seattle Opera fortunately. Coburn and Hajek were wonderful in their first duet where they sing about how the regiment found Marie as a baby and brought her up. The chorus of men (the regiment) were also very good, and several of the men were very involved in their acting, which is always nice.

Brownlee did amazingly with the famous aria with the nine high Cs, and received quite an ovation from the audience. He also was very good at the random insertions of humor that kept the audience laughing. A couple of his moments in particular stick in my mind; absolutely priceless. Of course, those things are much easier to be good at than great musicality.

What ends up happening in the first act is that the Marquise discovers that Marie is her own daughter (though she pretends it's merely her niece at first), and she takes her away to try to assimilate her into the aristocratic culture that is her birthright. This greatly saddens the regiment, and Tonio obviously, who has joined the regiment by this point in order to be able to marry Marie. Marie has a gorgeous sad aria towards the end of the act, "Il faut partir," (literally 'It is necessary to leave') and then the act comes to a close shortly after that.

I wandered around the McCaw Hall lobby during intermission, making my way through the various levels. I didn't find anyone I knew, and eventually the 30 minute intermission came to an end and I returned to my seat.

The second act takes place entirely in the Marquise's mansion, and from the beginning evoked a great deal more laughter from the audience than the first act did. This is not a criticism of the first act; I think this is always the case with this opera. The situation in the second act presents much more opportunity for wacky slapstick humor to be inserted, and this production and cast capitalized on it very well.

Much of the dialog in the second act (and I believe to a lesser degree in the first act) was different than what I remember from the Met production. I only have these two productions to go by, but it seems that with a comic opera with spoken dialog between the pieces, much liberty can be taken to shape it in different ways.

The Marquise is trying to teach Marie how to be a respectable lady, mostly by having her sing lieder with her accompanying on the piano. Sulpice is there as well, and with his help Marie keeps falling into songs from the regiment, greatly frustrating the old Marquise. There was also a butler guy in the mansion who would start dancing gleefully every time Marie and Sulpice would pick the music up into a jollier rhythm and sing about the regiment. That butler was actually the most popular comical insertion in the production; you'd have to see him to understand why. The laughter was sustained, I'll say that much.

The Marquise has arranged to marry Marie to the Duke of Krakenthorp, which will give her honor and a name and all that. Tonio and the regiment show up, and Tonio sings a beautiful aria to the Marquise, explaining how much he loves Marie (Brownlee was again excellent here), but plans for the wedding to the Duke continue. Eventually the guests begin to arrive, at which point a very daring comical insertion presented itself. Where normally there would just be music playing and the guests piling into the mansion, in this production they had the pairs of guests hand cards with their names to Hortensuis, who would call out who they are, and they were all from different regions of the Seattle area. The first was "The Baron and Baroness of Medina," and then there was a pair from Puyallup, and from Hunts Point, etc. The audience laughed with each one even as the joke got old. I guess it didn't get old that quickly.

Then the Duchesse of Krakenthorp appeared, played by Peter Kazaras. That's right, a man played the Duchesse. He was all puffed up in a dress, with makeup and everything; it was quite a hoot. Some more priceless moments of comedy followed his... er, I mean her entrance, and she ended up singing an Offenbach song with the Marquise on the piano.

Of course the Marquise ends up changing her mind about the wedding and allows Marie to marry Tonio, and everyone is happy except for the Duchesse and the guests, who are caricatures of snobby nobility.

The second act was practically non-stop laughs and really complimented the first act very well. The performances from all involved were again very good throughout this act, and although it was opening night there seemed to be no glitches of any kind.

After the curtain went down at the end, the music of the second act of Die Walküre came storming into my head, as if to remind me that this was a fun show, but dramatic opera is practically a different genre, and one which I much prefer. Rigoletto is coming up in January, and I plan to see it at least three times.

Until then, the Seattle Opera is definitely still on top of its game!

October 10th, 2013: Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 23

Thursday evening's concert was the second in the Masterworks season, and was led by British conductor Andrew Manze. The program consisted of a suite of four works by Purcell and Mozart's 23rd piano concerto in the first half, followed by Vaughan Williams' 5th symphony in the second half. Simone Dinnerstein was the soloist for the Mozart concerto.

Manze took to the podium at the start of the concert and picked up a microphone to say a few words to the audience. The suite of four Purcell works were not technically a suite, but simply four works by Purcell performed together. Manze spoke about them, and explained how some of them are orchestrated by Benjamin Britten, and some of them by Manze himself. He joked that the audience probably thinks of England as the land of no music, and said he hopes that this evening will convince them otherwise.

The four pieces by Purcell were beautiful. The first one was incredibly short, just a funeral march that couldn't have been longer than two minutes. The others were classic, beautiful baroque music, particularly the last one, which Manze said was Britten's favorite piece of Purcell.

After the Purcell was over the piano was wheeled out for the piano concerto. I had looked up Simone Dinnerstein a few days beforehand and wasn't quite sure what to make of her. She engaged in a lot of new age playing tendencies, but she was also very expressive. At Thursday's concert it seemed to be much the same. Her facial expressions were completely over the top from the beginning to the end of the concerto, but if I closed my eyes or looked away, the playing was quite fine. Her tone in particular was the warmest, richest, most beautiful tone I have yet heard from a pianist in Benaroya Hall. That was the key element of her playing that made it captivating.

I would say that overall I still prefer Vladimir Feltsman's performance of this work from back in May. It was overall more traditionally played. But compared to some of the flat performances of Mozart piano concerts I've heard this past year (No. 9 with Garrick Ohlsson, No. 21 with Cédric Tiberghien), Dinnerstein's was certainly up there among the best. One thing I preferred about Dinnerstein's performance was the slow tempo of the second movement. She played the opening very slowly and beautifully, and Manze brought the orchestra in in such a way that it seemed it had always been going and we were only now beginning to hear it. He also remained in the slow tempo she had set, which created an incredible effect for the unspeakably divine orchestral passages.

There was one part in the third movement I think, where I was listening with my eyes closed and suddenly I was jarred by what sounded like the piano and orchestra getting very out of sync with each other. My eyes snapped open, but they then seemed to be back together. Perhaps what I heard wasn't an actual fumbling of the performers but something that my mind did as it drifted towards a half-asleep state. Fascinating questions.

The audience didn't seem very enthralled with Dinnerstein. After her first bow and exit from the stage the applause barely sustained enough for her to return for a second bow. Half the audience was still standing up of course though, this is Seattle. She stayed on stage for her second bow for a little while, probably knowing this was it, and the applause quickly faded just as she took her last step from the stage.

After intermission Manze returned to the stage in front of a much larger orchestra, and again took the microphone to address the audience before performing the Vaughan Williams. He told a story about how while conducting this symphony recently he had met a very old woman who had been there in 1943 at the first performance of it in England. The audience oohed and aahed as he told the story. Apparently she was a sound engineer, because all the men were at war. She said that everyone was weeping during the performance because it was this beautiful, hopeful piece of music that Vaughan Williams had created in the midst of total darkness; the previous three years had been terrible for England obviously. Finally he said "enough from me!" with a gesture of his hand, and turned around to begin the symphony.

It was a very fine performance. Andrew Manze was clearly a very good musician, and he led the orchestra through a solid and convincing performance of the symphony. The brass were a little bit weak in places, something they actually suffered from throughout the first half as well I believe, but otherwise the orchestral playing was technically very good. My favorite movement is the third, the one which has the most romantic, hollywood-esque soaring string passages, and it was played very beautifully.

It's unfair to compare level of polish between tonight and most of the other concerts I go to because normally I go on Saturdays. Opening night is always not as quite put together as subsequent performances, and I think this was noticeable on Thursday. In any case it was a very enjoyable concert!

Next up is The Daughter of the Regiment at the Seattle Opera!

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October 5th, 2013: Beethoven's Triple Concerto

What a night! What a thoroughly enjoyable concert. It was so good I was tempted to go again today at 2:00!

Thomas Dausgaard was the conductor for the evening, and just a few days prior the Symphony had announced that he is to be the new Principal Guest Conductor. Dausgaard is a relatively famous Danish conductor who specializes in Scandinavian repertoire, but also has an affinity for the core Germanic repertoire. This was proven in yesterday's concert.

The first half consisted of Beethoven's Triple Concerto, with Alina Pogostkina on violin, Andreas Brantelid on cello and Christian Ihle Hadland on piano. The second half consisted of Schubert's Symphony No. 9 in C major, "The Great." I didn't realize beforehand how much I would appreciate the fact that the concert contained no nonsense music, no fillers, no contemporary castor oil, etc. Beethoven concerto in the first half, Schubert symphony in the second. Every concert should be like this!

Dausgaard and the three soloists came out to perform the Beethoven concerto, taking up an interesting staging arrangement in which Christian, the pianist, wasn't able to see either of the other two soloists. But I suppose the alternative would have put the string soloists such that the sound of the piano would overwhelm them.

I had listened to the concerto several times in preparation for this concert and had grown quite fond of it. While I had high hopes for Dausgaard as a conductor I was more skeptical about the three very young European soloists (Pogostkina was Russian, Brantelid was Swedish/Danish and Christian was Norwegian), mainly because of the risk that they would substitute musical depth for superficial acting.

Dausgaard gave the downbeat for the orchestral introduction and within a very short time proved himself to be a brilliant and competent leader, bringing out the absolute best that the Seattle Symphony has to offer. The orchestral playing was vivid and brilliant, the sound quality ever present, every inner line clearly heard. The timber of the strings even seemed to be taking on a much-appreciated gritty sound due to the intensity with which they played.

When Andreas Brantelid began the first solo of the concerto he did make a few "look at how into the music I am" faces and looked aimlessly around the hall as he tossed off the first few phrases. I feared for the worst. However, as the piece continued and the violin and piano joined him, it seemed that they were actually generally on the mature side. Alina Pogostkina, though she wore an immodest dress, played the violin very professionally. Her musical expression came across as quite authentic to me. For the most part Andreas Brantelid was also fairly authentic, though he was a bit more on the fence, occasionally straying into a manner of playing rooted in a show business mentality rather than a learned knowledge of the music. Christian Ihle Hadland, on the piano, provided technical perfection in his part and served as a solid grounding for the trio of soloists.

Dausgaard was incredible. Absolutely a pleasure to watch. It seemed whatever he touched turned to gold, vaporizing time, immortalizing the music. He was locked in with the soloists as if their brains were physically connected. He provided an orchestral accompaniment to them which was right on their heels, the entrances impeccably timed, the musical intentions crystal clear, the dynamic contrasts thrilling. There wasn't a single passage in the concerto that didn't have impeccable togetherness between all the players, and Dausgaard was clearly responsible for that. He was 150% involved in what he was doing, his face lit, his movements boisterous and inspiring, like a painter painting the music to life on an aural canvas.

Throughout the course of the forty minute concerto (which felt much shorter) the soloists proved themselves to be fine musicians. They worked as a unit, and throughout most of the piece I never had the experience that anything they were doing was interfering with my ability to hear the music. They delivered it in a mostly straight forward and unpretentious manner. By the end of the concerto I was in a really good mood. Hearing a live performance of this caliber is a real treat.

After intermission Dausgaard returned to the podium to conduct Schubert's 9th symphony. This symphony is less known than his 8th (the unfinished) and it is a very interesting work. It is quite long, and the third and fourth movements in particular drag on and on, seeming to repeat the same sections over and over. I'm not too familiar with the form, but that's what it sounds like. I sat in the first violin section of the Seattle Youth Symphony Orchestra back in the 2009/2010 season when they played this symphony, and I have a certain affinity for it.

The first movement was slightly disappointing after what we had heard in the Beethoven concerto. The orchestra had the same presence and quality of tone, but I think Dausgaard rushed the movement just a little bit. Several precious moments and transitions were rushed through, and on top of that it seemed like the orchestra disagreed with his tempo. So it didn't sound like a coherent fast tempo, it sounded pushed. I still enjoyed it very much, but wished that he had fleshed it out and presented it in the crystal clear and brilliant manner with which he had presented the Beethoven. Nevertheless, at times during the first movement I really felt the presence of Schubert's divine music. He really is as close to Bach, Mozart and Beethoven as any other composer gets.

The reduction in attention to detail compared to the Beethoven was mostly confined to the first movement. I'm not sure what the cause of it was, especially since Dausgaard was conducting without a score. I assume that means he knows it inside out, although if he doesn't, that might explain it. In any case it was a terrific performance and my quibbles with it probably only sound as serious as they do because I'm writing in the context of a perfect conducting job during the first half of the concert. The Schubert also did not feel nearly as long as it was, and the orchestra was on their toes and playing their best. They maintained the crisp string tone, glorious winds and brass, and stark dynamic contrasts. During the second movement Dausgaard's attention to detail seemed to return fully, to chilling and brilliant effect in places, and the third and fourth movements, while long and repetitive, did not seem to lack anything.

I must say that after last night's concert I am absolutely thrilled and delighted at Thomas Dausgaard's appointment as Principal Guest Conductor, and I'm already preparing for the festival of Sibelius symphonies he will conduct during the 2014/2015 season!

Next up is Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 23 and Vaughan Williams' Symphony No. 5!

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