Concert Review: The St. Louis Symhony Orchestra offers a potent Carnegie Hall preview

Vadim Repin
Photo: Gela Megredlidze

Who: The St. Louis Symphony Orchestra conducted by David Robertson
What: Music of Debussy, James MacMillan, and Tchaikovsky
Where: Powell Symphony Hall, St. Louis
When: March 14 and 15, 2015

[Find out more about the music with the SLSO program notes and my preview article.]

Two of the three works on this past weekend's St. Louis Symphony Orchestra concerts (the ones that aren't by James MacMillan) will also be on the bill when the orchestra performs in Carnegie Hall on Friday, March 20th. If what we heard Sunday afternoon is any indication, they'll be representing their home town proudly.

The concert opened with Debussy's "Nocturnes"— three short tone poems (total playing time is around 25 minutes) inspired by literary poems by the symbolist writer Henri de Regnier. Although nothing in the three movements is explicitly nocturnal, the music nevertheless has that oddly otherworldly quality of things seen only faintly in the dark—or maybe just in a dream. The clouds in the first movement ("Nuages") coalesce and disperse in a whirl of filmy chords; the eerie procession of the second movement ("Fêtes") begins with muted trumpets and harps, builds to a climax, and then vanishes; and the wordless female chorus of the final movement ("Sirènes") is sometimes so faint that you can't be sure whether it's there at all.

Mr. Robertson and orchestra gave this piece a wonderfully nuanced and atmospheric treatment. You could almost hear the ocean in the ebb and flow of "Sirènes," for example, and the celebration of "Fêtes" had just the right touch of mystery. So did "Nuages," which was also distinguished by nice work from Cally Banham on the English horn. The women of Amy Kaiser's chorus were wonderfully seductive sirens in the final movement, and handled Debussy's sometimes challenging score (singing long lines softly is no easy thing) with great skill.

Next was the work which won't be on the program in New York (there's a new piece by Meredith Monk in that slot)—the 2009 "Violin Concerto" by contemporary Scottish composer James MacMillan. In interviews Mr. MacMillan has described himself as strongly to the kind of composer who is “deeply suspicious of any significant move towards tonality, any hint of pulse that is actually discernible, and any music which communicates successfully with a non-specialist audience.” And, in fact, his "Piano Concerto No. 3," which we heard last month, certainly was a colorful piece with lots of immediate appeal.

Mr. MacMillan is quoted in last weekend's concert program notes as saying that the concerto reflects the Celtic fiddle music of his childhood. "I've grown up with fiddle music," he recalls. "I used to play in folk bands when I was younger, and fiddles were always the core part of that music." With the exception of a brief dance-like passage in the first movement and a lyrical oboe line in the second that suggested a Scottish air, however, I heard very little of that influence.

What I did hear was a lot of jagged modernism and a lack of any real structural coherence. Musical episodes followed each other like cars in a freight train with no real through line. In the end, I felt that I had heard a series of miniatures (some more appealing than others) rather than a single unified work. The work felt, overall, less audience friendly than the "Piano Concerto."

The concerto demands some real virtuosity from the violin soloist, and it certainly got that from Vadim Repin. Mr. Repin worked closely with the composer during the concerto's genesis, introduced it to the world, and has been a major advocate for it since. We can, therefore, probably take his breathtakingly fluid performance as being definitive. He handled with ease passages that sounded absurdly difficult. More to the point, his playing had real soul, which, while it still didn't completely win me over to the music, at least made a good case for it.

When I heard to the Internet broadcast of Tchaikovsky's "Symphony No. 4" that concluded this weekend's concerts on Saturday night, I felt that Mr. Robertson's approach was perhaps a bit too detached and deliberate. When I witnessed his deeply passionate and committed reading on Sunday, it was obvious that what I was really hearing Saturday night was the cumulative distancing effect of microphones and signal processors, along with the bandwidth limitations of an Internet audio stream. There is, in fact, no real substitute for hearing this music live.

The Fourth is my favorite Tchaikovsky symphony. The composer poured all of his hope and despair into this most compact and dramatically expressive of all his essays in the genre. From the commanding "fate" motif first intoned by the brasses at the beginning to the nearly hysterical triumph of the finale, this is a piece that grabs you by the lapels and doesn't let go until the end.

Mr. Robertson and the orchestra were pretty near flawless here. The tempo and dynamic contrasts were well chosen and served the symphony's relentless sense of movement well. Timpanist Shannon Wood and his fellow percussionists performed heroically, and little individual instrumental moments that Tchaikovsky sprinkles throughout the work were done to perfection. Principal Oboe Jelena Dirks and Principal Bassoon Andrew Cuneo were singled out for solo bows at the end, but all the players sounded at the top of their game.

As I noted at the top, the orchestra will be in New York this weekend, but there is a Youth Orchestra concert on Sunday, March 22, at 3 p.m. The orchestra returns to the Powell Hall stage March 27-29 for a showing of the movie classic "The Godfather" with Nino Rota's score performed live on stage, and the regular season resumes on Friday, April 10, with Mozart and Shostakovich conducted by Hannu Lintu. For more information: stlsymphony.org.

Symphony Preview: David Robertson and the SLSO offer a preview of their Carnegie Hall concert Saturday and Sunday, March 14 and 15, 2015

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This weekend's classical "double header" continues as David Robertson conducts the St. Louis Symphony in the music of Tchaikovsky, Debussy, and James MacMillan on Saturday and Sunday, March 14 and 15.

Two of the three works on this weekend's program—Tchaikovsky's "Symphony No. 4 in F minor," op. 36, and Debussy's "Nocturnes"—will also be on the bill when the orchestra appears at Carnegie Hall in New York on Friday, March 20th. The third piece is the 2009 "Violin Concerto" by contemporary Scotch composer James MacMillan. In the Big Apple, that will be replaced by "Weave," a brand-new work by Meredith Monk.

James MacMillan
boosey.com

MacMillan, whose "Piano Concerto No. 3" got such an impressive performance from Jean-Yves Thibaudet and Stéphane Denève at Powell Hall last month, is perhaps best known for "Veni, Veni, Emmanuel," his 1992 percussion concerto closely identified with Evelyn Glennie. His style is approachable, colorful, and, while clearly the work of someone who is familiar with the full range of 21st century compositional techniques, disdains the elitism that infects so much "serious" music these days.

Specifically, Mr. MacMillan disdains composers who are “deeply suspicious of any significant move towards tonality, any hint of pulse that is actually discernible, and any music which communicates successfully with a non-specialist audience.” If, in other words, you are weary of music that sounds more like an orchestra tuning up than a deliberate composition, or that seems to have been written more for a grant-funding committee than for a paying audience, Mr. MacMillan is undoubtedly your man.

I haven't heard the "Violin Concerto," but if it's anything like his piano concerto, we should expect writing that conjures up strong visual images. Think movie music, but with much more complexity. We should also expect, as Paul Schiavo writes in his program notes, music that " reflects the Celtic culture with which the composer strongly identifies." "I’ve grown up with fiddle music," recalls Mr. MacMillan in an interview quotes in the notes. "I used to play in folk bands when I was younger, and fiddles were always the core part of that music."

Debussy in 1908
en.wikipedia.org

Debussy's "Nocturnes" should conjure up some images as well, although they'll probably be more like Impressionist paintings with their suggestiveness and subtlety than a Technicolor film. It consists of three short tone poems (total playing time is around 25 minutes) inspired by literary poems by the symbolist writer Henri de Regnier. The composer wrote a fairly detailed program for "Nocturnes," and rather than attempt to paraphrase it, I'm just going to quote it in toto, using the translation from Donald Brook's Five great French composers: Berlioz, César Franck, Saint-Saëns, Debussy, Ravel: Their Lives and Works (thank you, Wikipedia):

The title Nocturnes is to be interpreted here in a general and, more particularly, in a decorative sense. Therefore, it is not meant to designate the usual form of the Nocturne, but rather all the various impressions and the special effects of light that the word suggests. 'Nuages' renders the immutable aspect of the sky and the slow, solemn motion of the clouds, fading away in grey tones lightly tinged with white. 'Fêtes' gives us the vibrating, dancing rhythm of the atmosphere with sudden flashes of light. There is also the episode of the procession (a dazzling fantastic vision), which passes through the festive scene and becomes merged in it. But the background remains resistantly the same: the festival with its blending of music and luminous dust participating in the cosmic rhythm. 'Sirènes' depicts the sea and its countless rhythms and presently, amongst the waves silvered by the moonlight, is heard the mysterious song of the Sirens as they laugh and pass on.

The role of the mythological sirens will be played by the women of the Symphony Chorus.

The concerts will conclude with my favorite Tchaikovsky symphony—his Fourth, in F minor, last heard in Powell Hall three years ago when Christopher Warren-Green was on the podium. He began writing it during a winter of discontent (to paraphrase Shakespeare) in 1876-77. "Since we last met," he wrote to his friend Klimenko, "I am very much changed—especially mentally. Not a kopek's worth of fun and gaiety is left in me. Life is terribly empty, tedious, and tawdry. My mind turns towards matrimony, or indeed any other steady bond. The only thing that has not changed is my love for composing. If he conditions of my life were different, if my desire to create were not balked at every step...I might write something really decent."

"Tchaikovsky with wife Antonina Miliukova"
by Ivan Grigoryevich Dyagovchenko
Licensed under Public Domain
via Wikimedia Commons

His disastrous attempt at marriage in 1877 to a former student, Antonina Miliukova didn't help matters any. He was gay, she didn't get it, and the entire business collapsed after only a few months. The following year, Tchaikovsky would refer to his marriage in a letter to his brother Anatoly as "my brief insanity. That man who in May took it into his head to marry Antonina Ivanovna, who during June wrote a whole opera as though nothing had happened, who in July married, who in September fled from his wife, who in November railed at Rome and so on—that man wasn't I, but another Pyotr Ilyich".

Still, by the beginning of 1878, all that Sturm und Drang had resulted in the creation of "something really decent." Although initially dismissed by critics who were baffled by the first movement's length of (at just over 17 minutes, it takes up about half of the symphony's total time) and unusual structure, the Fourth would gradually gain acceptance and acclaim. It's now one of Tchaikovsky's most popular symphonies.

As well it should be. The composer poured all of his hope and despair into this most compact and dramatically expressive of all his symphonies. From the commanding "fate" motive first intoned by the brasses at the beginning to the nearly hysterical triumph of the finale, this is a piece that grabs you by the lapels and doesn't let go until the end. I've loved this work from the first time I heard it in a recording by Sir John Barbirolli and the Halle Orchestra on my parents' old console stereo some fifty years ago. I think you will as well.

The essentials: David Robertson conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra with violinist Vadim Repin and the Women of the St. Louis Symphony Chorus on Saturday at 8 p.m. and Sunday at 3 p.m., March 14 and 15. The program features Debussy's "Nocturnes," James MacMillan's "Violin Concerto," and Tchaikovsky's "Symphony No. 4." The concerts take place at Powell Symphony Hall, 718 North Grand in Grand Center. For more information: stlsymphony.org.

Symphony Review: A spring awakening with Stéphane Denève and the St. Louis Symphony, February 7 and 8, 2015

Stéphane Denève in the auditorium
of the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées, Paris
Photo: Tom Finnie

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Who: The St. Louis Symphony Orchestra conducted by Stéphane Denève
What: Music of Debussy, James MacMillan, and Dvořák
When: February 7 and 8, 2015
Where: Powell Symphony Hall, St. Louis

A bit of spring blew through St. Louis a couple of months early this weekend, and I’m not just talking about the temperatures outside.  Inside Powell Hall it was unseasonably vernal, as well, as Principal Flute Mark Sparks and the St. Louis Symphony under guest  conductor Stéphane Denève gave voice to Debussy’s sultry “Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune” (“Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun”).

[Find out more about the music with the symphony program notes and my symphony preview].

Inspired by an 1876 poem by the symbolist Stéphane Mallarmé (whom Debussy greatly admired), the “Prélude” exudes what Boston Symphony music librarian Marshall Burlingame describes as a “languorous sensuality” as “the faun’s conscious observation of two nymphs in the sunlight drifts into erotic fantasy.”  Even in Mallarmé’s elliptical poetry, it’s steamy stuff.

Mark Sparks
stlsymphony.org

Mr. Denève’s loving and subtly shaded interpretation, combined with Mr. Sparks’ graceful playing of the solo part (the flute takes on the role of the faun’s panpipes), produced exactly the lubricious atmosphere the composer had in mind.  Working without a baton, Mr. Denève artfully shaped  phrases with his hands in the manner of the late Leopold Stokowski while still making individual cues pointed and unambiguous.  He is, as I have noted in the past, a commanding figure on the podium and an interesting visual study.

Immediately following the first dose of Debussy, we got a second: the brief “Syrinx” for solo flute from 1913.  It wasn’t on the printed program, having been added during rehearsals as a result of discussions between Mr. Sparks and Mr. Denève, but there was nothing rushed or under-rehearsed about Mr. Sparks’ seemingly effortless performance.

Next up was the local premiere of Scottish composer James MacMillan’s Piano Concerto No. 3, “The Mysteries of Light.”  Based on the five “Luminous Mysteries” added to the existing fifteen rosary mysteries by Pope John Paul II in 2002, the work is not so much a classic concerto as it is a symphony with a prominent piano part.  Yes, the pianist has some impressively flashy passages, especially in the finale (“The Institution of the Eucharist”) with its “perpetual motion” coda, but overall the piano is more of an orchestral partner.

As I wrote in my preview article, Mr. MacMillan disdains composers who are (in his words) “deeply suspicious of any significant move towards tonality, any hint of pulse that is actually discernible, and any music which communicates successfully with a non-specialist audience.”  If, in other words, you are weary of music that sounds more like an orchestra tuning up than a deliberate composition, or that seems to have been written more for a grant-funding committee than for a paying audience, Mr. MacMillan is undoubtedly your man.

The 3rd concerto is not what I’d call a subtle work. The first movement (“The Baptism of Jesus  Christ”), for example, features rapid “watery” passages at the upper end of the keyboard while the second movement’s “Wedding at Cana” includes a raucous  tune in the style of a reel.  Jesus’ ascension in the fourth movement is depicted by a massive orchestral crescendo that begins at the very bottom of every instrument’s register and quickly  climbs to the top, and the radiance of Jesus’ face is illustrated by an elaborately beautiful chorale for the strings.

And so it goes.  There’s an almost cinematic vividness to this music—and I mean that in the most flattering way possible.  Unlike some of the newer works the SLSO has unveiled, this is a piece that can be grasped at first hearing while still inviting repeated listening.  We can only hope  that a recording will be forthcoming at some point.

Jean-Yves Thibaudet
jeanyvesthibaudet.com

The soloist for the concerto was Jean-Yves Thibaudet.  He premiered the concerto with the Minnesota Orchestra in 2011, so I think I can safely describe his performance as definitive.  It was certainly assured and intense, backed up by virtuoso playing by the orchestra.  He and Mr. Denève clearly love this music, and their very informative and entertaining spoken introduction, including a brief bit of four-handed piano from the pair, was a nice supplement to the printed program notes.

The concert concluded with the the "Symphony No. 8" in G major, Op. 88, written in 1890 by Antonin Dvořák.  The symphony comes from an especially happy time in the composer’s life.  Thanks, in part, to the enthusiastic support of Brahms, Dvořák was much in demand as both a composer and conductor and was prosperous enough to purchase a home in the Czech countryside that inspired so much of his work.

Composed at his newly acquired home, this cheerful symphony overflows with celebrations of rustic life.  There are twittering birds, cheerful village bands, wandering violinists, and even, at one point, a section that has always made me think of a sudden thunderstorm.  This is the joy of living, wrapped up in the Czech master’s characteristically infectious melodies and dance-inspired rhythms.

Dvořák  is one of my favorite composers and I thought I had heard every possible approach to this consistently good-humored symphony. Mr. Denève still managed to surprise me, though, with an idiosyncratic approach that lingered over orchestral details, sometimes sacrificing the composer’s rhythmic vitality to do so.  And yet, it never felt overdone or excessively episodic.  This was a performance that drew me in, almost in spite of myself.

The orchestra responded with some truly superb playing.  The cellos, under Principal Daniel Lee, brilliantly fulfilled their important melodic role, especially in the first and last movements, and the winds and horns made the most of the loving attention Dvořák lavishes on them all the way through.  Concertmaster David Halen also had a nice moment as that strolling violinist in the second movement.

Finally, a note about silence.  Most of us know that silence is an element of music. John Cage even went to far as to write and entire piece (“4’ 33””) consisting of nothing by four minutes and 33 seconds of silence, along with whatever ambient sound happens to be present at the time.  Dvořák uses silence effectively in the eighth symphony, and Mr. Denève used it effectively throughout the concert.  Before he began the Debussy, for example, he held himself completely still until the last audience wheeze had died out and the opening flute solo could emerge from almost complete quiet.  His understanding of the importance of silence and stillness is, I think, one of the things that makes Mr. Denève’s interpretations stand out from the crowd.

Next at Powell Hall: Kevin McBeth conducts the St. Louis Symphony IN UNISON chorus in “Lift Every Voice: A Black History Month Celebration” on Friday, February 13, at 7:30 PM.  The orchestra is supplemented by a rock band for “Faithfully: A Tribute to the Music of Journey” on Saturday, February 14, at 7:30 p.m.  The regular season resumes when Slovakian conductor Juraj Valcuha leads the orchestra and piano soloist André Watts in Rachmaninoff’s “Piano Concerto No. 2” and Tchcaikovsky’s “Symphony No. 6” (“Pathétique”) on Friday at 10:30 a.m. and Saturday at 8 p.m. February 20 and 21.  For more information: stlsymphony.org.

Symphony Preview: Ecstasy without agony Saturday and Sunday, February 7 and 8, 2015

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The theme running through this weekend's St. Louis Symphony concerts, as Daniel Durchholz writes in his program notes, is "ecstatic expression". Specifically, "the sensual delights of Debussy, the religious rapture found in the deep devotion of [Scottish composer James] MacMillan, and Dvořák’s reveling in the country comforts of his homeland." I think he's on to something there.

Debussy in 1908
en.wikipedia.org

I haven't heard the MacMillan piano concerto that concludes the first half of the concert, but there's not much doubt that ecstasy figures prominently in both the works that open and close the concert. First performed in 1894, Debussy's "Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune" ("Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun") is a languorous evocation of the landscape of Classical mythology while Dvořák’s "Symphony No. 8" from 1890 takes its cue from the thoroughly unmythical Bohemian countryside. Both show how much their respective composers were inspired by the natural world.

Granted, in Debussy's case the immediate inspiration wasn't so much nature as it was an elliptically erotic 1876 poem by Stephane Mallarmé, whom Debussy greatly admired. "The poem's languorous sensuality is subtly shaded," wrote Boston Symphony music librarian Marshall Burlingame for the SLSO's 1982 recording of the piece, "as the faun's conscious observation of two nymphs in the sunlight drifts into erotic fantasy." Mallarmé apparently agreed. "I have just come out of the concert deeply moved," he wrote to the composer. "The marvel! Your illustration of the Afternoon of a Faun, which presents a dissonance with my text only by going much further, really, into nostalgia and into light, with finesse, with sensuality, with richness. I press your hand admiringly, Debussy."

In Debussy's music, the faun is personified by the flute, which is featured prominently throughout its roughly ten-minute length. In fact, the opening flute solo is probably one of the best-known moments in the classical repertoire. It's haunting and dreamy, and it expertly conjures up the voluptuous, summery world of the poem. "The piece is avant-garde, revolutionary," observes SLSO Principal Flute Mark Sparks in the program. "The idea is personal for Debussy. He owns the idea of what happens harmonically: ambiguity, consciously taking the traditional Germanic sense, Wagner especially, and throwing it out the window."

Anton and Anna Dvořák in London, 1886
en.wikipedia.org

I don't know what Dvořák thought of Debussy. He probably would have found the younger composer's whole approach odd. But, like Debussy, he was often inspired by nature. Written at a time of great happiness in the composer’s life, the "Symphony No. 8" in G major, Op. 88, overflows with good humor. Dvořák composed it at his newly acquired country home and filled it with celebrations of rustic life. There are twittering birds, cheerful village bands, wandering violinists, and even, at one point, a section that has always made me think of a sudden thunderstorm. This is the joy of living, wrapped up in the Czech master’s characteristically infectious melodies and dance-inspired rhythms.

Like the Debussy, the Dvořák abounds with lovely solo passages for the winds, as does so much of his music. The last time the SLSO performed this symphony—October of 2010, under Gilbert Varga—I was very taken with the orchestra’s flute, piccolo, and single and double reed sections. Needless to say, I'm looking forward to a repeat of that this time.

Interestingly, the Dvořák Eighth has something in common with the Beethoven Eighth that we heard  a couple of weeks ago. Like the Beethoven, it’s an unpretentious and genial piece that stands in marked contrast to the more dramatic and more often performed symphonies on either side of it. Beethoven’s Eighth tends to get less attention than his propulsive Seventh or his grand Ninth. Dvořák’s Eighth has the same problem compared to the darkly dramatic Seventh and the wildly popular Ninth, “From the New World.” And yet both symphonies have much to recommend them. It’s good to have the opportunity to hear them almost back-to-back.

I’d like to close by giving you my impressions of the new work on the program this week, the “Piano Concerto No. 3” (subtitled “Mysteries of Light”), written in 2007-2008 by James MacMillan, the contemporary Scottish composer best known for "Veni, Veni, Emmanuel," his 1992, percussion concerto closely identified with Evelyn Glennie. Unfortunately the piano concerto, which had its premiere in April of 2011 with the Minnesota Orchestra, doesn’t appear to be available on recordings yet. Fortunately, the composer has given us a fairly detailed program at the web site of his publisher, Boosey and Hawkes.

James MacMillan
boosey.com

"My 3rd Piano Concerto," he writes, "attempts to revive the ancient practice of writing music based on the structure of the Rosary. The most famous example of this is the collection of the Rosary (or Mystery) Sonatas for violin by Heinrich Biber, written in the late 17th century. These consist of 15 movements based on the Joyful, Sorrowful and Glorious Mysteries. In 2002 another set of meditations were introduced by John Paul II, the Luminous Mysteries, and these are the basis of the five sections of this concerto... However, the music here is in no way geared towards liturgy, or devotional in any accepted, traditional sense. Rather, each image or event becomes the springboard for a subjective reflection, and proceeds in quasi-dramatic fashion, not too distant in concept from the musical tone poem. The fusion of symphonic poem with concerto forms has long been a favourite pursuit of mine in earlier works. The music is in one single, continuous span, comprising five distinct portions."

If the examples of MacMillann’s work that I have been able to find are any indication, you can expect music that, while obviously contemporary, is nevertheless very accessible and free of the kind of dry, academic abstraction that seems typical of so many compositions over the last few decades. “For polemical as well as practical purposes,” writes Joe Staines in “The Rough Guide to Classical Music” (Penguin, 2010), “MacMillan has often stood against ‘the old guard of the avant-garde’ who ‘are deeply suspicious of any significant move towards tonality, any hint of pulse that is actually discernible, and any music which communicates successfully with a non-specialist audience.”

At the piano for the concerto will be the man who first performed it, Jean-Yves Thibaudet. A highly regarded performer with an international reputation, Mr. Thibaudet has a wide-ranging repertoire that includes 19th, 20th, and 21st century masters and even jazz. His playing can be heard in the cinema as well, on the soundtracks of films like "The Portrait of a Lady," "Bride of the Wind," "Pride and Prejudice," "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close," and "Atonement." His last appearance with the SLSO was back in 2001.

On the podium will be Stéphane Denève, a young (age 43) French conductor who impressed me mightily when he made his SLSO debut back in September of 2003 with a program of Britten, Tchaikovsky, and Haydn and again in 2011 when the program featured Ravel's "Daphnis et Chloe". On the podium he’s an impressive figure: tall and commanding without appearing overbearing and with a bit of the late Leopold Stokowski’s flair. He seemed to be in close communication with the musicians at all times when I saw him here, and they appeared to enjoy working with him. And they're obviously not alone. Mr. Denève is Chief Conductor of Stuttgart Radio Symphony Orchestra, Principal Guest Conductor of the Philadelphia Orchestra, and will become Chief Conductor of the Brussels Philharmonic and Director of its Centre for Future Orchestral Repertoire from September 2015. Previous conducting gigs include orchestras as diverse as the Orchestre de Paris, the Suisse Romande Orchestra, the National Symphony in Washington, along with numerous opera orchestras.

The Essentials: Stéphane Denève conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra with piano soloist Jean-Yves Thibaudet on Saturday at 8 p.m. and Sunday at 3 p.m., February 7 and 8. The concerts take place at Powell Symphony Hall, 718 North Grand in Grand Center. For more information: stlsymphony.org.