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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http://www.seattlesymphony.org/symphony/buy/single/production.aspx?id=13649&src=t&dateid=13649

September 24th, 2013: New Subscriber and Donor Welcome Party

We were invited to this small event yesterday evening in the Grand Lobby of Benaroya Hall. It consisted of a few bites of food and a short chamber music recital, followed by a Q&A.

A string quartet made up of Seattle Symphony musicians performed the third, fourth and fifth movements of Peter Schickele's American Dreams. Stephen Bryant, the first violinist of the quartet and one of the most engaged players in the symphony, introduced the piece and talked about each movement, and afterwards he took most of the questions about it.

I wasn't thrilled with the choice of repertoire, but I didn't get too depressed about it because the choice certainly didn't come from any ill will towards the classical masters. Throughout the course of the Q&A Stephen Bryant even made an explicit comment that "it's not Mozart or Beethoven," but that it was a piece they have fun playing and wanted to share with us. I was actually quite comforted by Bryant and the way he spoke and came across. He's very evidently a traditional classical player who views things much like I do, and this was evident through several of the comments he made during the Q&A.

It was a fairly short event and we were out of there about an hour after we walked through the doors. There isn't too much else to say about it, I just didn't want to leave it out of the blog.

September 21st, 2013: Morlot Conducts Ravel

This was the first concert of the 2013-2014 Masterworks series. Morlot decided to open the series with an all-Ravel program and close it in June with an all-Stravinsky program. Last night's concert consisted of Alborada del gracioso, Piano Concerto in D major for Left Hand, Rapsodie espagnole, Pavane pour une infante défunte, Piano Concerto in G major and Boléro. Jean-Yves Thibaudet was the pianist soloing in the two piano concertos, so the conductor, soloist and all the repertoire were French in this concert.

I was under the impression that Ravel is generally very easy to like, so I didn't spend much time getting acquainted with the works on this program beforehand. Unfortunately it seems that several of the pieces do take some getting to know in order to enjoy or appreciate. I won't say much about those works that I failed to appreciate because that's pretty much all I have to say about them. Alborada del gracioso, the piece that opened the program, was one of these. It was a festive sounding opening to the concert, but it failed to enchant me and I failed to find much beauty in it.

Next Jean-Yves came on stage for the Piano Concerto for Left Hand. Jean-Yves was an incredibly slick fellow. He walked with a suave stride and his shoes were so shiny I'm still seeing spots. Anyways, he sat down at the piano and very impressively performed the entire concerto with only his left hand. He did miss notes here and there (or at least didn't hit them smack on), but all in all he seemed like a mature, competent musician, and I'm not sure exactly what Ravel expected technically out of the soloist with what he demanded from the left hand alone. Thibaudet actually engaged in some "flailing" throughout the work (to use the word of a volunteer usher I overheard during intermission, who by the way was a woman I once provided Mac tech support for and who has a dog named Faust [only because Mephistopheles was too long], but I don't think she recognized me), possibly as a result of having to reach all the notes he did with his left hand. His use of the pedal at times shook the entire piano. Upon the conclusion of the work, Thibaudet immediately got up and went to hug Morlot.

In any case, the music itself in the left hand concerto again did not captivate me very much. I was beginning to think that perhaps I do need to be really familiar with the repertoire in a concert in order to really enjoy it. The last piece before intermission, Rapsodie espagnole, was a four movement work that again I had trouble finding the beauty in. The orchestra throughout the first half of the program seemed to be playing very well though, and Morlot appeared to be in high spirits. He would be, with an all-French program.

After intermission we took up our seats once more and settled in for Pavane pour une infante défunte (Pavane for a Dead Princess). As the piece unfolded I felt myself sinking into it. At last! Beauty! Real, haunting, lush, divine music! I could have heard the theme of this seven minute piece for seventy minutes. It was one of those pieces that after you are introduced to in a concert you go home, buy on iTunes and listen to on repeat for a month. It was one of those works that just kills you, as if Ravel had a map of your soul while he wrote it. By the end of it I felt very much like beauty is beauty, whether or not I've heard it before. So even now I'm not sure what it was about the works in the first half that didn't speak to me. If Ravel could write this, surely those works must be great.

I just took a brief pause of writing this to listen to the Pavane. Sigh. <3

The piano was then brought back on stage for the Piano Concerto in G major. Jean-Yves and his shoes came striding out again, and the musicians commenced with the first movement, another work which I wasn't too crazy about. This is getting old isn't it? At least I liked the Pavane. Anyways, Jean-Yves, now able to use both his hands, didn't engage in as much flailing, and he gave a very accomplished performance of the work. It was really nice to have an adult pianist on stage after Lang Lang the week before.

The second movement of the concerto was quite a nice piece, I did like several parts of that. There were places where it suddenly lapsed out of the romantic beauty and into quasi-modernism, but more often than not the movement was a nice lush interlude between the two outer movements which seemed to me to be rather jagged on the edges. In any case, the audience seemed to like it, and Jean-Yves gave Morlot another big hug upon the conclusion of the work.

The harp played a rather active role in the piano concerto, and during bowing Morlot invited the harpist to the front of the stage for a bow, but she cowered behind her harp blushing. Morlot was undeterred, signaling the whole orchestra to sit back down so that he could at least invite her to stand up by herself. She slowly began to stand up and peek her face out from behind the harp, but just then Jean-Yves came back on stage for another bow so the harpist was 'saved by the shoes' and sat back down. I don't get why someone would be that determined not to receive recognition for their work. If she had a simple preference to not bow that's one thing, but the minute she insisted on that in the face of him emphatically wanting to recognize her, then it became about her and it became a false modesty/ego thing.

The last piece on the program was Boléro, the only piece I was familiar with beforehand. I actually used to hear it a lot when I was little, and I even danced to it at the age of seven or eight. Yeah. Anyways, this was the one piece I was really looking forward to on the program. I hadn't heard it in a very long time, and it proved to be very much to my taste, more so than I thought it would be.

Morlot gave the downbeat and the lower strings began their pizzicati in sync with the snare drum, played by Michael Werner, who was beginning his fifteen minute marathon of playing the same rhythm over and over again with the perfection of a metronome, against all sorts of different rhythms in the orchestra. I noticed the level of skill and focus required in his work early on, and was very impressed with his methodical infallibility.

The violas were strumming their instruments like guitars, which initially had the effect of making it seem like sound was coming from nowhere, because you don't expect sound to be coming from a section if their instruments are in their laps. 

The piece slowly began to build up, with the winds one by one taking their turn at the genius and haunting melody. The flute was the first one, and I haven't mentioned this yet but Demarre McGill is on an extended leave this year, replaced by Christie Reside. She is good, but she's not Demarre, and her opening solo in Boléro confirmed that. The clarinet, bassoon and trombone solos are three in particular that stick in my memory because of the mastery with which the players executed their parts, but every player who was passed the melody did it justice.

I really really enjoyed this piece. It's for experiences like this that I go to live concerts. It was absolutely timeless. I was completely immersed. There was no sense of beginning, middle or end; just a continuous beauty and journey from instrument to instrument, constantly rising and growing. This is another Ravel melody that I could hear forever.

I had the sense during this piece that the orchestra was also enjoying it more than the rest of the program. Perhaps I was projecting my own enjoyment, but it seemed almost as if they had played the rest of the program because they had to, and now they were playing the piece that they would all want to play whether or not they were getting paid. It was like a musical party on stage.

At one point a low wind instrument took over the theme and the piccolo was harmonizing it a sixth above. I think the piccolo was supposed to be quieter than it was, because it sounded quite weird, and her notes, while they would have worked as a faint harmonization, did not work when heard tangibly. When that iteration of the theme ended Christine and I gave each other funny looks, and then the piccolo player coughed, which almost sent us into a bad bout of laughter. I was also amused by the appearance of the timpanist, who went about his repetitive motions in the manner of some sort of mechanical circus act.

I gave a standing ovation at the end of the piece. It was such a joy to observe and to hear. Truly excellent, involved, collaborative music-making was evident throughout the work. Afterwards, during the jubilant applause and to my pleasant surprise, Morlot asked Michael Werner to the front of the stage for a bow for his miraculously inhuman performance meticulously laying the rhythmic groundwork throughout the piece. I was really glad to be able to applaud him individually.

So this concert was all in all a great evening. Even one performance like Boléro is worth the ticket price, and there was also the Pavane as well as a host of other very well played works by Ravel, even if they were not justly appreciated by me.

Next up is a concert of Beethoven's Triple Concerto and Schubert's 9th Symphony on October 5th. I'm quite excited about that one.

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September 15th, 2013: Opening Night Concert

The 2013-2014 Seattle Symphony season kicked off yesterday with the Opening Night Concert conducted by Ludovic Morlot, who is now beginning his third season as Music Director of the Seattle Symphony.

The program consisted of some Dvořák Slavonic Dances, Bartók's Rumanian Folk Dances, a Toccata by a Bulgarian composer named Pancho Vladigerov, a few Brahms Hungarian Dances, the Polovtsian Dances from Prince Igor by Borodin, and lastly Prokofiev's Piano Concerto No. 3 in C major, with Lang Lang as soloist.

Before the house lights dimmed the chorus took to the stage behind the orchestra, and then when Morlot stepped on the podium he gave a cue to the pianist who commenced in a flamboyant rolling chord atop which the chorus burst forth in the National Anthem. The whole audience stood up appropriately, and it was really nice to have the evening start off that way.

Then the chorus exited and Morlot returned to the podium to start the first Slavonic Dance by Dvořák. It was a delightfully festive piece, and he began it with great excitement, actually interrupting the applause from the audience. It was the perfect piece to open an Opening Night concert, and the orchestra was clearly in high spirits and top form.

The second Slavonic Dance contained much richer music and gave the strings a chance to really shine, particularly the violins, who had gorgeous, iconic melodies that took them high up on the e-string. It was really a pleasure to bask in the music-making being delivered by the musicians. Bartók's Rumanian Folk Dances followed. I felt very familiar with almost all of them, and they were also performed extremely well.

Before the next piece (the Valdigerov) Morlot picked up a microphone and spoke to the audience about the theme of the concert and how it's more Eastern European this year, as opposed to American themed on Opening Night last year. He then revealed that he picked the Bulgarian Seattle Symphony Assistant Conductor Stilian Kirov to conduct the Toccata by the Bulgarian Pancho Vladigerov.

Kirov came across as a very suave young man, and he was the spitting image of the excited, fresh, eager, nervous, contained, crisp conductor. He seemed a little too involved with his image as a budding conductor and with what his presence on stage yesterday would contribute to that. His movements were brisk and curt, and he often gave the orchestra fake smiles.

That was all over after not too long, and Morlot returned to conduct the Brahms Hungarian Dances. I was disappointed that they didn't perform No. 5, which has always been my personal favorite. However, No. 1 is my second favorite and that's the first one they played. The other two (No. 3 and No. 2) I was not that familiar with, but the orchestra maintained their stellar quality throughout all of them. I wish that the excitement of opening night and the involvement of the players could stick 100% through every concert throughout the season.

After the Brahms dances the chorus returned to the stage for Borodin's Polovtsian Dances from Prince Igor.

Once in a while there is a piece by a lesser known composer that makes me ask the question "Are Bach, Mozart and Beethoven really that much greater than the rest of them?" The answer of course is yes, and yet sometimes a work from somebody like Borodin shows up that makes me ask that question, and also "how did he do it?" Music does not get much better than what Borodin gifted us with in his Polovtsian Dances. The famous melody of course is stunningly beautiful and haunting, and the melodies and harmonies throughout the work are just magnificent; a truly wonderful gift to the world of music. The difference though is that I could listen to this piece a hundred times, and then be sick of it for a very long time. I wouldn't get sick of Bach, Mozart or Beethoven in the same way.

Intermission followed the Borodin. We got up and wandered around the lobby. I wanted to get my tickets printed for some of the upcoming concerts but we accidentally waited in line at the merchandise booth rather than the Ticket Concierge booth, so that didn't end up happening.

There was a black tie gala at the Fairmont Olympic Hotel following yesterday's concert (the concert was at 4pm), and even though we weren't going to it (cheapest tickets were $650) I decided to dress black tie because it was opening night. There were only a handful of other people dressed black tie there, and I assume most if not all of them were headed to the gala afterwards.

After intermission Lang Lang performed Prokofiev's 3rd piano concerto. Lang Lang is one of the most notorious figures in the new age phenomenon of pretentious, exaggerated, self-indulgent playing to compensate for actual deep understanding of the music. He embodies the awful trend of classical music taking on the form of pop culture and presenting "stars" in a similar fashion. I knew all of this before we went, and so I expected to be entertained at best.

Lang Lang did have an immaculate technical grasp of the work. Fortunately I couldn't see his face from where we were sitting, but his hand gestures and body language revealed all too well how much he was going overboard with the acting in order to win over the masses sitting wide-eyed throughout the hall. However, the Prokofiev piano concerto seemed to be primarily a virtuosic work intended for the pianist to show off technical prowess, and Lang Lang certainly did excel in that regard. Unlike HJ Lim when she performed Mendelssohn back in January, Lang Lang did compensate for musical shallowness with technical brilliance. And since I was not familiar with the Prokofiev concerto and so could not pick up on any deep subtleties in the music that he may have slaughtered, I more or less enjoyed most of the performance. It was clearly high quality music, just not a musical language that I am familiar with, and Lang Lang's hands blazing over the keys was at times mesmerizing to observe.

After the first movement the audience broke out in raucous applause. It was by far the loudest applause-before-the-piece-is-over I had ever heard. And at the end of the concerto the ovation was deafening. Voices cried out in exuberant approval, and the sound of 2,500 pairs of hands clapping passionately thundered through the auditorium. In retrospect I thought "So this is how musical depth and maturity dies; to thunderous applause." No worries if you don't get the reference.

Lang Lang was called back to the stage by the applause three or four times before he sat back down on the piano bench. He then announced that he had a Chopin nocturne for this special Seattle Symphony Opening Night.

*insert face-palm*

Everything bad about him that was hidden by the nature of the Prokofiev concerto and the technical brilliance he displayed now came leeching out from the stage like a noxious ink. He raised his right arm in the air and ever so slowly moved it towards the first note of the piece, creating instantly an atmosphere of sickening pretentiousness and shallow melodrama. The execution of the work followed like a reflection from that first agonizing motion, a tortured, mutilated catastrophe, utterly crushed by the oppressive weight of a performer with no depth or wisdom merely using the notes as pawns to spin a web of false profundity.

He was called back to the stage several more times after the Chopin, and by this point I was in a bit of a depression. But then something caught my eye which truly terrified me. Efe Baltacigil, the stellar new principal cellist of the Seattle Symphony, appeared to be applauding Lang Lang sincerely and heartedly. The whole orchestra applauds by default as the soloist returns to stage multiple times, but Efe in particular was giving thoughtful intent to each clap, his face aglow with the expression of having just been deeply moved, and his head shook slightly from side to side in apparent disbelief at Lang Lang's mastery.

I immediately thought to myself that he better be putting on an act or we have a very serious problem. If Efe Baltacigil was genuinely moved by Lang Lang's performance of the Chopin, that means that everything great about Efe's playing is not there because Efe has an understanding of why that's the way to play, but because he just happens to have been trained that way. It would mean that Efe is not acting as a cultural pillar, as any kind of rock to prevent the chaotic waves of modern sentiments from breaking asunder the fabric on which great classical performances are sewn. It would mean that his mastery is up for grabs, that he presents what he does by coincidence and does nothing to try to preserve it in this world, and in fact does not even realize that there is something great that needs to be preserved and is at risk of being lost.

We can only hope he was acting.

In any case, all in all it was a fantastic opening night concert. Next up is Morlot Conducts Ravel on September 21st!

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http://www.seattlesymphony.org/symphony/buy/single/production.aspx?id=13742&src=t&dateid=13742

The Holy Trinity of composers (Humor)

This is a funny little thing I cooked up a while ago and posted on my old blog. Dave Segal from The Stranger came across it and wrote this: 

http://lineout.thestranger.com/lineout/archives/2012/06/25/gods-chosen-composers-according-to-one-21-year-old-blogger

I subsequently added "(Humor)" to the title of the blog post, and then removed it completely. In any case, since it has to do with classical composers I thought it would be fitting to repost it on this blog for fun.
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After close examination of the birth dates, death dates and lifespans of several of the greatest composers who ever lived, I have concluded that God played a hand in sending them to earth, and devised patterns to reveal his intervention.

The patterns all revolve around the number six, which you may say is the devil's number, but let me remind you that God created the world in six days, that there are six points on the star of david, and that six is the atomic number of carbon, the chemical without which we could not exist.

God's plan was to send a Holy Trinity of composers that would rival all others, sending each one six years after the death of the former. He waited until music on earth evolved to the point of being worthy of Him, and by 1685 he felt that this had happened, so he sent Bach, the first of the Holy Trinity. The year 1685 is rooted in the sixth century of a millennium, and is eclipsed by the numbers one and five, which make another six. What remains is eight, standing for divine infinity.

Bach lived until 1750, and according to God's plan, gave us a tremendous output of divine music. Six years after his death God sent Mozart to be the next of the Holy Trinity. Everything was going great with Mozart, and God was already prepping Beethoven to be the next of the Holy Trinity, but that's where something went a little wrong. Beethoven said "I'm not going to be part of this trinity plan of yours. I'm going now!" and he went to earth in 1770, long before Mozart's death. It should be noted that the year 1770 does still result in six (1 + 7 + 7 + 0 = 15. 1 + 5 = 6). Beethoven wasn't entirely abandoning God's aesthetic, but he was doing it his own way.

Beethoven's defiance surprised and angered God, who began to devise a new composer to be the third of the Trinity. After Mozart died in 1791, God sent Schubert six years later in 1797 to be the replacement "holy ghost" of the Trinity. However, Beethoven, having originally been destined for the Trinity, would be the greater of the two composers, though his individualism would forever veer the course of music away from the path God had intended. Schubert, though he did end up the third part of the Trinity, was not God's first choice and therefore has a taint of mortality in some of his music.

It is interesting to note that six years after Beethoven prematurely went to earth, America declared independence from Britain, reflecting Beethoven's fiery independence with another six-year gap.

Before we go into what God did with the slightly disjunct situation he was left with, let's bring to light a few more connections involving the Holy Trinity and Beethoven.

Mozart's grandfather was born six years before Bach, in 1679.

Beethoven's 'Eroica' Symphony was composed six years after Schubert's birth, the first symphonic foundation of the Romantic period.

There were 41 years between the births of Mozart and Schubert, reflecting the divine 41st 'Jupiter' Symphony.

Bach was born in March, and Mozart died in December. Beethoven was born in December and died in March, eclipsing in reverse the lifespans of both the Father and Son of the Holy Trinity, again reflecting his opposition to God's path.

So, the Holy Trinity ended up officially being Bach, Mozart and Schubert, though in reality in terms of compositional quality it is still Bach, Mozart and Beethoven, Beethoven having been the one God first destined for the third spot. But God knew that Beethoven's aesthetics in music would lead to the destruction of music ultimately, so six years after Beethoven's death he sent Brahms to try and correct the course of the Beethoven trajectory. Brahms was a classicist, turning back to old values and ideals in composing his music, and working against ideas forwarded by composers like Wagner.

But it was too late.

Six years after Wagner died, Hitler was born. Six years after Hitler died, Schoenberg died. Wagner contributed to the destruction of music by stretching tonality to its limits, and Schoenberg then destroyed it completely, and we find these two composers eclipsing the lifespan of Hitler with the same six-year gap. In addition, World War II lasted six years. Clearly some other power came into play along the way, drastically altering God's original plan.

In any case, we do have the music of Bach, Mozart and Beethoven to prove that these patterns aren't a coincidence, though it is fascinating that Beethoven simultaneously fulfilled his mission as a Divine composer while also breaking away from God. Schubert ends up a composer who is a very close fourth place after the first three, and when we look at the patterns I've laid out here, we can understand much clearer his slightly awkward place in the compositional hierarchy. He has divine music, but he doesn't quite stand on the same pedestal with the original Holy Trinity.

The fact that the third of the Trinity was a rebel who used God's gift to take humanity in its own direction is a religious and theological allegory to so many things that we see in the world today. If the devil is real, surely it was he who veered the path off course, but surely there can be no doubt, listening to the music of Bach and Mozart, that the original plan was a beautiful one from beginning to end.

August 4th - 9th, 2013: Wagner's 'Der Ring des Nibelungen'

I had originally intended to write a separate blog post for each of the four operas in Wagner's Ring cycle, but there was a lack of time during the week of the Ring, and so now I will try to remember everything as best as I can and review the performances all together.

Back in November 2012 I purchased a pair of front row seats for the whole cycle, and then later in the spring I convinced a couple family members to come along as well, so there were four of us embarking on Wagner's fifteen hour journey together.

Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen (The Ring of the Nibelung) is a cycle of four operas (technically a trilogy with a prologue) that Richard Wagner composed over a twenty-six year period, from 1848 to 1874. The four operas are Das Rheingold (The Rheingold), Die Walküre (The Valkyrie), Siegfried and Götterdämmerung (Twilight of the Gods), and they were performed on August 4th, 5th, 7th and 9th. In the 21st century there are very few traditional productions of it left in the world, set in nature, with beautiful costumes, scenery, etc. Here in Seattle we are lucky to have this 'green' Ring, inspired by the nature of the Pacific Northwest. If this had not been a traditional production there is no way I would have bought tickets. This production debuted in Seattle in 2001, and was performed in 2005, 2009, and now 2013.

Das Rheingold:

The first of the four operas is a sort of genesis piece, depicting the events which set in motion the story throughout the rest of the cycle. It is shorter than the others, and contains no intermission since the music is non-stop. After the house was packed to the tilt with eager Ring-goers, the lights dimmed to darkness and Asher Fisch snuck quietly into the orchestra pit and began the prelude without receiving an ovation.

The orchestra sounded solid throughout the prelude, which swelled further and further throughout its five minutes, depicting the movement of the waters in the Rhine river. The curtain then went up to reveal the three Rhinemaidens swimming around in the rocky depths of the river. They were actually suspended and swimming around through the air. A Nibelung named Alberich comes stumbling into the scene after a few minutes and tries to seduce the Rhinemaidens, who laugh at him and taunt him. They guard a precious hunk of gold which sits on a rock in the river, and Alberich ends up renouncing love and stealing their gold so he can forge a ring of power and take over the world. Contrasting from Sauron and the creation of the ring of power in The Lord of the Rings, here in Wagner's work it's made very clear that "evil," "hatred" and desire for domination stem not from something inherent in the Nibelung, but in being rejected and being denied love. To me this makes the story much deeper than a classic good vs. evil story.

After the initial scene in the Rhine river, the rest of the opera deals with giants and gods up on the surface of the earth, and a sort of legal dilemma that Wotan, the head god, got them into by hiring two giants to build a castle for the gods and then trying to weasel out of the payment that he promised them (that payment was the goddess Freia). With the help of Loge, the demi-god of fire, they wrest the ring from Alberich (as well as a hoard of gold that he has accumulated from the depths of the earth by this point) and use it as wages for the giants. However, when the ring is taken by force from Alberich, he places a deadly curse on it, which is central to the rest of the Ring cycle.

The three sets for Das Rheingold were stunning, but by far the most beautiful one was the forest on the surface of the earth, where much of the opera plays out. It was a lush, green, beautifully designed set that was a constant pleasure to look at. The other two sets were in the Rhine river and in the depths of Nibelheim where Alberich was using the power of his ring to enslave other Nibelungs and accumulate his hoard of gold.

The singers were of a very high level and sang Wagner's unique and incredible music with great expression and clarity. Richard Paul Fink (Alberich) brought incredible power and expression to the role, delivering Wagner's often complex and chromatic melodies with a precision that actually allowed the audience to hear each note and follow the phrases of the music. Mark Schowalter was an enchanting Loge, playing the trickster 'lawyer' character with subtlety, wit, and a charming, creamy voice that was absolutely perfect for the music. Stephanie Blythe was of course magnificent as Fricka, her rich, deep voice projecting out like a razor bell over the orchestra. The orchestra could play as loud as they wanted when they were accompanying her; she would never get covered up. Andrea Silvestrelli and Daniel Sumegi were great as Fasolt and Fafner (the two giants who built Valhalla, the gods castle), and of course Greer Grimsley was a very captivating Wotan. Lucille Beer sang the small role of Erda, the earth goddess who warns Wotan to give up the ring, and Wendy Bryn Harmer sang Freia, the goddess of beauty.

The orchestra however did not play their best in Das Rheingold. There were several passages where it seemed like they were sight-reading, and in general throughout the opera they lacked power and precision in their sound. It was rarely bothersome to me though, because the singers were excellent and they were the main focus throughout the evening. And I assumed that the orchestra had spent more time rehearsing the other operas (there's only so much you can do when you have fifteen hours of music to prepare), so their performance during Das Rheingold did not trouble me too much nor diminish my excitement for the rest of the cycle.

Die Walküre:

The second opera (the first of the 'trilogy') was performed the next evening, beginning at 6:00 pm because of its vast length. Asher Fisch again gave the downbeat to the orchestra without receiving an ovation. Immediately it was clear that the orchestra was going to be more on top of it tonight. The prelude, depicting a wild storm, was played slower than normal but with solid intention and delivery. The curtain then went up on a brand new set, a wooden cabin in the forest. This set was equally beautiful to the forest set in Das Rheingold. Shortly after the curtain rises, a wounded Siegmund comes stumbling through the storm and collapses on the floor inside the cabin.

The three singers in the first act were Stuart Skelton (Siegmund), Margaret Jane Wray (Sieglinde) and Andrea Silvestrelli (Hunding). All were very strong singers, but Andrea Silvestrelli in particular was absolutely exquisite as Hunding. His voice was deeper and more terrifying than the vast majority of bass singers. His stage presence was electrifying. Siegmund had a rich, strong tenor voice, and Sieglinde, though she had just a bit too much vibrato in her tone, was very expressive and had a voice that projected well throughout the auditorium.

This first act of Die Walküre is an incredible work in itself. It builds from a complete mystery into a seemingly endless, soaring love duet, and then reaches an absolutely electrifying climax before banging out of existence with a last, desperate and triumphal chord. Asher Fisch led the orchestra wonderfully, and they played with much more presence, skill and intensity than they had the night before.

For the second act we are again with the gods, and the unusual artistic choice was made to have the first part of the second act take place in the same set as the first act. Normally it would be in a mountain setting, but since Wotan and Fricka are arguing about the fate of Siegmund, Sieglinde and Hunding, it actually made sense to have them set in the same place. Stephanie Blythe was again flawless as Fricka, and Greer Grimsley gave a strong performance as Wotan in the epic marital spat. Wotan's daughter Brünnhidle appears in this act for the first time, sung by Alwyn Mellor, who was quite good.

The second part of the second act entailed a change of set. We now found ourselves in a hilly, rocky area of the forest with a sloping path on the right and a high cliff on the left. Siegmund and Sieglinde escape together to this point, and it's at the end of this act that one of the great climaxes and pivotal moments in the entire cycle takes place. The battle between Siegmund, Hunding, Brünnhilde and Wotan was absolutely terrifying; it was one of the most intense and violent depictions of the scene that I've ever encountered. It was one of those experiences where after the curtain falls you realize you've been holding your breath for the past minute.

The third act begins with the famous Ride of the Valkyries music. The orchestra kept up its solid performance throughout the evening, and continued to do so into the third act. The curtain opened onto a new set, a rocky ledge near the top of a mountain. The eight Valkyrie warriors gathered on the rock, singing a whirlwind of exciting music, and were then joined by Brünnhilde, carrying with her the desperate Sieglinde, who just lost her lover Siegmund in the previous battle. Wagner did something very precarious in scoring so much music for eight soprano voices, but the singers in this performance did an admirable job of bringing out the harmonies and not sounding like one homogenous block of high, indiscernible notes.

This third act contains some truly terrifying music, as Wotan is heading towards the rock, enraged at Brünnhilde for siding with Siegmund in his fight against Hunding. All the Valkyries are terrified as he pronounces judgment upon Brünnhilde for defying the God. They eventually retreat from the scene, screaming in terror, and leave Wotan and Brünnhilde alone on the rock. Some of the most beautiful music in the whole cycle takes places here, as Wotan says goodbye to his beloved daughter and locks her in sleep on the mountaintop in punishment for her defiance. Greer Grimsley and Alwyn Mellor gave a wonderful performance of this famous scene. At the end, when Wotan summons Loge to light a fire around the rock to guard Brünnhilde from cowards, fires actually did light up around the rock, providing a spectacular visual effect.

The following evening, Tuesday the 6th, there was no performance, and I was playing piano in the lounge at the Canlis restaurant. None other than Mark Schowalter (Loge from Das Rheingold) was sitting in the lounge with his wife towards the end of the evening, so I had the distinct pleasure of meeting them.

Siegfried:

The third opera is arguably the greatest in the cycle. Wagner called it "the loveliest of my life's dreams," and it serves as a kind of sanctuary, a lush interlude between chaos in Die Walküre and Götterdämmerung. Much of the opera is spent looking at life from the perspective of an innocent and naïve fifteen year old (Siegfried), and it is bursting with haunting, beautiful music depicting nature, animals and love.

The first act takes place in a cave in the forest where Mime (Dennis Peterson) is raising Siegfried by himself, after receiving the infant from Sieglinde, who died during childbirth. Wotan appears in the act as well to give advice to Mime, and in the end Siegfried forges his father's sword and sets out to conquer the world. The set was essentially the same as the forest in Das Rheingold except that it had different structures and props on it, depicting Mime's living area.

Dennis Peterson was masterful as Mime. He looked like a veteran singer who had really taken on, cherished, cultivated and embodied the role. It's truly a pleasure to have someone like him on the stage. Stefan Vinke was a well-cast Siegfried who looked the part and acted the defiant fifteen year old boy quite well. His voice was on the quieter side throughout the first act, but he began to project more during the rest of the opera.

The second act of Siegfried is a work which has traditionally been adored even by those who do not like Wagner in general. It contains incredible music depicting forest murmurs, twittering birds, as well as the lush, haunting moments where Siegfried is alone, contemplating life and thinking about his parents.

In this act multiple characters all converge around the cave where Fafner now lives (he has transformed into a dragon and he guards the gold and the ring), each with a different motive all revolving around the ring. Alberich and Wotan appear at the beginning of the act, and then Mime and Siegfried come later, the former spurring the latter on in the hopes that he will slay the dragon and bring him the ring. Siegfried does slay the dragon, but ends up slaying Mime as well.

The set was the same as for the second half of the second act of Die Walküre; the forest with the sloping path and the cliff on the left.

Richard Paul Fink was again perfect as Alberich, really bringing out the incredible chromatic melodies that Wagner wrote. He was one of my favorite singers to hear in general throughout the performances. Greer Grimsley was even better as Wotan than he was during Die Walküre, probably because he had that Tuesday to rest. One of my favorite moments is the brief brotherly spat between Alberich and Mime, who bicker at each other while Siegfried is inside the dragon's cave retrieving the ring. The music is quirky and superb, and the incredibly fast and difficult passage was executed perfectly by the singers and orchestra. I thought Fafner was a little weak; he sings some of the most terrifyingly haunting music as he sings to Siegfried after being slain, and there was just too much vibrato for the notes to really be delivered to the audience in an impactful way. Also, the forest bird towards the end of the second act was a slight disappointment. Her melody is absolutely enchanting as she sings to Siegfried, but she had too much vibrato and was a bit too shrill.

It's more or less between the second and third acts of Siegfried that Wagner took an eleven or twelve year break in the composition of the work, so the musical style changed somewhat as we headed into the third act of Siegfried. It begins with an epic, driving music that has a galloping nature to it, and the curtain rises to reveal Wotan in the mountains, seeking out Erda again for advice. The music at this point is absolutely exquisite; beautifully twisted and haunting beyond words. After Erda descends again into the earth, Siegfried approaches on his way to find Brünnhilde on the rock. Wotan speaks with him and ends up trying to bar his way because Siegfried is rude and disrespectful, but Siegfried shatters Wotan's spear. This is sort of the ultimate turning point in the story for the Gods, who are now essentially over, since Wotan was overpowered by a human.

Siegfried climbs the rock, makes it through the fire, and wakes up Brünnhilde. Thus ensues another absolutely gorgeous love duet, and the only happy ending in the whole Ring cycle. Before the third act began, Speight Jenkins, the general director of the Seattle Opera, took to the stage (and received a standing ovation) in order to announce that Alwyn Mellor had had an allergy attack and withdrew from the performance that evening. Lori Phillips was her replacement, and she was surprisingly good. Her voice projected very well and she looked the part. Her only drawback was a bit too much vibrato, but on the whole I was very satisfied.

Orchestra and singers throughout Siegfried were in very good shape, and overall it was a great performance of the most beautiful and most difficult to perform opera in the cycle.

Götterdämmerung:

First of all, I feel that the quality of the performance was very good. And I am also more convinced than ever that Wagner ran into some problems in the conception and creation of Götterdämmerung. It lacks something that the other operas have. I'm not sure what it is, but it just doesn't have the same beauty or impact as the others.

This is, of course, with the exception of the prologue and first act. During the prologue we see the three Norns spinning the rope of fate, and having it break on them, meaning the end of their worldly wisdom. The music for this opening scene is chilling and magnificent, and the three women who sang it (Stephanie Blythe being one of them) were perfect. Then we go up to the rock again where Brünnhilde and Siegfried have another duet as she bids him farewell so he can go on more adventures. Lori Phillips was still singing Brünnhilde, and she was much better than in Siegfried; to me at this point she was a fully adequate replacement for Alwyn Mellor. The duet contains some of Wagner's most stupendous music, and the orchestra and singers performed it brilliantly.

The first act kind of officially begins as the curtain rises on the Gibichung residence, and after a brief period of some less interesting music (very well fitted by Wagner to rather boring characters) we are back on the mountaintop for some of the greatest music Wagner wrote. Stephanie Blythe was magnificent again as Waltraute, and the music throughout this entire act is just really really beautiful and dramatic, and it was extremely well performed by all at the Seattle Opera.

The beginning of the second act promises a continuation of the kind of opera we've seen in the first act, as Alberich approaches his son Hagen in a dream and begs him to retrieve the ring and to stay faithful to him. The music is haunting and the performances were wonderful. But then the rest of the act becomes a rather melodramatic, confused mess, as the plot becomes so convoluted and out of hand that we no longer really care about what happens or who lives and who dies. Wagner set up the coming apocalypse for so long that by this point it's easy to feel like "get it over with already." Wagner sets up the idea of the twilight of the gods as a tragedy in the first few operas, but by the second act of Götterdämmerung, we no longer see it as a bad thing. Perhaps this is part of the genius of the story; I'm certainly no Ring scholar. But in any case, it does seem that there is dramatic music intended to make the audience feel a certain way about the events that are happening, and yet we don't quite feel that way because we've been set up to not see it as that big a problem. In the third act of Siegfried, Wotan even says that the end of the gods doesn't trouble him anymore and that he rejoices in it.

Daniel Sumegi was a slightly underwhelming Hagen, and this may have played a role in my feelings about the second act, but I've felt similar feelings with any production that I've seen. The music and plot both become convoluted, and it just doesn't carry the direct, powerful emotional impact that moments throughout the first three operas deliver so brilliantly. In any case, with what the artists had to work with I think they gave a very solid performance.

In the third act, the Rhinemaidens reappear for the first time in a while, popping out of the Rhine river in order to beg Siegfried to give them back the ring. He does not do so, and then he gets stabbed in the back by Hagen while on a hunting trip. They return to the Gibichung residence with the dead Siegfried, and Brünnhilde brings the world to an end in response. Siegfried's death and funeral music is very moving, but it would be much more moving if we weren't told for the past several hours that Siegfried is going to die and that ultimately it's a good thing. In any case, the orchestra and the singers performed very well, and I have no major issues with this performance of Götterdämmerung other than the issues I have with Wagner himself. Although, the set design for the apocalypse in the last five minutes of the opera could have been better. That was the one point in the whole cycle where I thought there was something lacking in the sets and visuals. During the most climactic parts of the music we were just seeing what looked like white clouds, and then the gods arose on a platform in the middle of the stage and Loge set Valhalla on fire. Alberich was also on the platform with them for some reason. The last thing we saw was the forest set from Das Rheingold, with lighting that implied a new dawn.

Overall thoughts:

It was a wonderful experience to see Wagner's complete Ring cycle in the course of one week. The Seattle Opera truly has a wonderful tradition of Wagner which was clearly evident throughout the performances. They brought a strong cast of singers, a great conductor, and the solid players of the Seattle Symphony, combined with incredibly beautiful sets and seamless visual effects to really bring Wagner's epic to life. It was on the whole a very traditional production, though there were of course a sprinkling of instances that reminded us that we are in post-reality. Random, goofy, funny touches throughout the works revealed that even at the Seattle Opera they are not content to simply perform the piece as Wagner conceived it. These were all minor instances though, and they were amusing, and they didn't seem to detract very much from the overall traditional presentation of the story and the characters. I would actually go again if my schedule and bank account allowed it. It truly is an excellent production.

I wish I had had the time to write a post about each opera right after seeing them. I've left so much that I wanted to say out of this, but oh well. If there are any performances remaining at the time that you're reading this, go! You won't regret it!