Monday, January 26, 2009
Met Orchestra, Jan. 25, 2009
This afternoon's concert of the Met Orchestra began with an unusual work, Mozart's recitative and aria Ch'io mi scordi di te?...non temer, amato bene, K. 505, composed probably as a farewell to Nancy Storace. It's unusual in that it contains a piano obbligato which James Levine played and conducted from (though most of the conducting must have been worked out in rehearsal, as the piano part during the aria was substantial). Though one always knew who was the primary soloist (mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato), the piano part added an interesting part, not so much in the vein of concerted instrument, but as part of the orchestra, adding idiomatic sound and ornamentation to the fairly light orchestra.
I've rarely been entranced by Charles Wuorinen's compositions since I first heard them beginning in 1974, when I attended the Manhattan School of Music for one year (before transferring to Mannes). I recall one of his interesting experiments: orchestration of a pre-Baroque musical work, apparently inspired by Webern's attempt at Bach's Ricercar from the Musikalische Opfer. Wuorinen's attempt wasn't as disorienting as was Webern's, but he was attempting to do similar things, crafting more dimensions of sonority than the original piece had, presumably as away to impart greater analytical understand of what was going on in the music. (I can't remember what it was -- perhaps a piece by Dufay? -- but I recall the tonal center of the work focused on A, for that pitch kept recurring with constantly changing sound quality due to the changes in orchestra.)
I was reminded of that experience in hearing his latest work, a world premiere, Time Regained, billed as a fantasy for piano and orchestra, with Peter Serkin as the pianist. This work, using Proust's idea of memory, incorporates many works which influenced Wuorinen: Machaut, Matteo da Perugia, Dufay, Gibbons. It was not quite a quodlibet because Wuorinen took enough compositional liberties to weave them into a new work, removing them from their original context. And yet the sound constantly made one think of works from these earlier eras. In three parts, I was disappointed with the first because too many ideas (or quotations) seemed to be expressed with out developing them in any recognizable organic way that would endear them to the ears of the listeners. I found this to be less in the second and third parts.
The most puzzling aspect of this piece was the piano. It was positioned in the same manner that a soloist would be positioned as if to play a piano concerto. But the piano writing was not at all concerto-like. Rather, the piano was treated as another member of the orchestra. It rarely had solo passages and sonically did not try to relate to the orchestra than anything other than another member. So what was the reasoning behind this? I wished the work made a bigger impression on me.
Joyce DiDonato returned for orchestrations of some post-operatic Rossini songs. The real treat was the unannounced encore of "Non piu mesta" from Cenerentola. Having heard Bartoli do it so many times that one assumed she wanted it for her signature aria, it was nice to hear a different take on it. I think DiDonato did parts faster, but the true reward was that in the few opportune places, she gave a more personal musical stamp to her execution. I recall in the break between verses, there was a wonderful held note followed by a large leap - all done with great expressivity. Brava, Joyce.
I do like the Met Orchestra a lot, and sometimes I have to admit that their brashness can sometimes be attributed to the lack of opportunities for regularly playing orchestral music. But they had a great performance of Mendelssohn's Symphony no. 4. It was very fast, and yet I could hear how the strings had all their notes worked out, and even in the tough spots (in 6/8 meter where just the first note is an eighth-note rest, particularly for the cellos) it just seemed to go so smoothly. I have definitely heard the symphony played with more delicacy, but this performance style - more muscular, more "operatic" - that is, highlighting the dramatic elements of the composition - worked for me. The Saltarello (fourth movement) (momentarily reminding me of another minor conclusion to a work in 6/8, Rachmaninoff's Tarentella from the second Suite for two pianos, Op. 17) was taken at nearly a breathless pace and yet they all seemed to stay together. There was no chance for boredom as Levine took things at a fast clip. (I admit that until this performance, the fourth movement was probably my least favorite movement of this work, because it seemed not to go anywhere until after a long period of time.) But you could hear all the articulations of the 6 eighth notes despite the tempo. The fast tempo also allowed one to hear the bigger shape of phrase structure within the work. I'm not at all sure Levine could have done this job prior to his rest and losing weight, so bravo to him for fighting his phyiscal issues and allowing the results to be heard in his improved music-making.
I've rarely been entranced by Charles Wuorinen's compositions since I first heard them beginning in 1974, when I attended the Manhattan School of Music for one year (before transferring to Mannes). I recall one of his interesting experiments: orchestration of a pre-Baroque musical work, apparently inspired by Webern's attempt at Bach's Ricercar from the Musikalische Opfer. Wuorinen's attempt wasn't as disorienting as was Webern's, but he was attempting to do similar things, crafting more dimensions of sonority than the original piece had, presumably as away to impart greater analytical understand of what was going on in the music. (I can't remember what it was -- perhaps a piece by Dufay? -- but I recall the tonal center of the work focused on A, for that pitch kept recurring with constantly changing sound quality due to the changes in orchestra.)
I was reminded of that experience in hearing his latest work, a world premiere, Time Regained, billed as a fantasy for piano and orchestra, with Peter Serkin as the pianist. This work, using Proust's idea of memory, incorporates many works which influenced Wuorinen: Machaut, Matteo da Perugia, Dufay, Gibbons. It was not quite a quodlibet because Wuorinen took enough compositional liberties to weave them into a new work, removing them from their original context. And yet the sound constantly made one think of works from these earlier eras. In three parts, I was disappointed with the first because too many ideas (or quotations) seemed to be expressed with out developing them in any recognizable organic way that would endear them to the ears of the listeners. I found this to be less in the second and third parts.
The most puzzling aspect of this piece was the piano. It was positioned in the same manner that a soloist would be positioned as if to play a piano concerto. But the piano writing was not at all concerto-like. Rather, the piano was treated as another member of the orchestra. It rarely had solo passages and sonically did not try to relate to the orchestra than anything other than another member. So what was the reasoning behind this? I wished the work made a bigger impression on me.
Joyce DiDonato returned for orchestrations of some post-operatic Rossini songs. The real treat was the unannounced encore of "Non piu mesta" from Cenerentola. Having heard Bartoli do it so many times that one assumed she wanted it for her signature aria, it was nice to hear a different take on it. I think DiDonato did parts faster, but the true reward was that in the few opportune places, she gave a more personal musical stamp to her execution. I recall in the break between verses, there was a wonderful held note followed by a large leap - all done with great expressivity. Brava, Joyce.
I do like the Met Orchestra a lot, and sometimes I have to admit that their brashness can sometimes be attributed to the lack of opportunities for regularly playing orchestral music. But they had a great performance of Mendelssohn's Symphony no. 4. It was very fast, and yet I could hear how the strings had all their notes worked out, and even in the tough spots (in 6/8 meter where just the first note is an eighth-note rest, particularly for the cellos) it just seemed to go so smoothly. I have definitely heard the symphony played with more delicacy, but this performance style - more muscular, more "operatic" - that is, highlighting the dramatic elements of the composition - worked for me. The Saltarello (fourth movement) (momentarily reminding me of another minor conclusion to a work in 6/8, Rachmaninoff's Tarentella from the second Suite for two pianos, Op. 17) was taken at nearly a breathless pace and yet they all seemed to stay together. There was no chance for boredom as Levine took things at a fast clip. (I admit that until this performance, the fourth movement was probably my least favorite movement of this work, because it seemed not to go anywhere until after a long period of time.) But you could hear all the articulations of the 6 eighth notes despite the tempo. The fast tempo also allowed one to hear the bigger shape of phrase structure within the work. I'm not at all sure Levine could have done this job prior to his rest and losing weight, so bravo to him for fighting his phyiscal issues and allowing the results to be heard in his improved music-making.
Labels: Charles Wuorinen, James Levine, Met Orchestra
