Symphony Preview: Wagner and friends with David Robertson and Christine Brewer Friday and Saturday, March 6 and 7, 2015

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This August, Union Avenue Opera will present the last installment of its four-year traversal of Richard Wagner's "Ring" operas: "Götterdämmerung" ("Twilight of the Gods"). This weekend David Robertson, soprano Christine Brewer, and the St. Louis Symphony are presenting "Brünnhilde's Immolation," the final scene of that opera. Think of it as something of a preview.

Wagner in 1871
en.wikipedia.org

Of course, Union Avenue will be using a reduced version of the score prepared by British composer Jonathan Dove. At Powell Hall you'll get the Full Monty (or maybe the Full Richard) with a massive orchestra that includes four (count 'em, four) Wagner tubas (instruments in the euphonium range but with smaller bells and French horn mouthpieces), eight horns, a bass trumpet and a pair of harps. You'll also be getting a highly regarded soprano with a penchant for big, powerful roles in Christine Brewer.

That's a good thing, because in the "Ring" operas Wagner writes vocal lines that are very long and closely integrated with the orchestra. "It is the avoidance of cadence or period in this manner," writes British critic John Warrack in the Norton "History of Opera", "that earns the vocal line the term unendliche Melodie [literally "endless melody"]. The demands made upon singers in articulating such lines are enormous, both of sheer stamina but also in the necessity of a close understanding of the issues involved".

To do Wagner justice, in other words, you need to be not only a powerful and technically skilled singer, you have to be a capable actor as well. Ms. Brewer's substantial operatic resume should serve her well here.

And that immolation scene is nothing if not dramatic. The stage directions in the libretto call for vassals to build a funeral pyre and place the body of the treacherously slain Siegfried on it. Brünnhilde sets the pyre aflame, jumps on her horse, and together they leap into the flames. Everything goes up in smoke, the Rhine overflows its banks, and finally Valhalla itself is incinerated. It's Armageddon on a cinematic scale, calling for all the skills a stage designer can muster.

I'm not sure how Union Avenue will manage it, but this weekend the performance will be accompanied by projections created by S. Katy Tucker. She provided some mood-setting visuals to go with an all-American program last fall, so it will be interesting to see what she does with the Wagner.

The second half of this weekend's concerts will be taken up with one very big work: the "Symphony No. 3" of Anton Bruckner (1824-1896), in its final 1889 revision. Bruckner was a gushingly avid admirer of Wagner and, in fact, dedicated this symphony to him, so its placement on the program makes both musical and historical sense. Personally, I'm glad to see it simply because I don't think Bruckner's symphonies get as much attention as they deserve.

"Anton Bruckner arrives in Heaven". Bruckner is greeted by (from left to right):
Liszt, Wagner, Schubert, Schumann, Weber, Mozart, Beethoven, Gluck,
Haydn, Handel, Bach. (Silhouette drawing by Otto Böhler)
en.wikipedia.org

Writers of music criticism seem unable to discuss the symphonies of Anton Bruckner without invoking the imagery of the Gothic cathedral. Perhaps that's because they so strongly suggest a connection between the material and ethereal planes—great blocks of sound alternating with moments of otherworldly beauty. In Bruckner's music you can hear both great, heaven-storming power and quiet mystery. Time seems to act differently in a Bruckner symphony, with each movement incorporating so much emotional depth that it can feel both shorter and longer than the clock indicates. Amazing stuff, really.

Alas, as René Spencer Saller relates in her program notes, the audience at the premiere of the first version of Bruckner's third in 1877 (with the composer at the podium) didn't hear any of that. "Calling the concert a disaster," she writes, "is an understatement: think nightmare fuel, the stuff of suicide notes. He was set up to fail. Although he was a good chorus director, Bruckner had virtually no experience conducting a symphony orchestra, and this was a huge and demanding work. Even worse, he was leading—or attempting to lead—openly hostile musicians who seemed determined to make him a laughingstock."

Wagner's endorsement of his younger protégé probably didn't help. "It was after Wagner had espoused his cause," observed conductor and Bruckner booster F. Charles Adler in a 1938 radio broadcast, "accepting the dedication of the Third Symphony and hailing him as the greatest symphonic writer after Beethoven, that his trials really began. The critics who had praised his early efforts turned, and could find no words virulent enough to express their distaste. One went to far as to cry: 'Bruckner composes like a drunkard!' Orchestras and conductors refused his works as unplayable. Everywhere fun was poked at him and his music. To a man of Bruckner's timidity it was nearly fatal. But somehow he did survive it."

Bruckner not only survived but triumphed. The first performance of his "Symphony No. 7" in 1884 was a rousing success and the composer lived to see himself lionized worldwide. The music of the two other greatest post-Wagnerian composers—Gustav Mahler and Richard Strauss—may be more popular these days, but Bruckner is nevertheless firmly established as one of the great late-19th century symphonists.

Photograph of Gabriel Fauré
by Eugène Pirou, c. 1900
en.wikipedia.org

The concerts will open with the "Elegie for Cello and Orchestra," Op. 24, by Gabriel Fauré (1845-1924). Like Bruckner, Fauré was an admirer (albeit a less ardent one) of Wagner. Unlike the older composer, Fauré was not much influenced by Wagner in his own music, opting for a more restrained style and shorter, less grandiose musical structures. "Whereas Wagner was the undisputed king of his self-invented 'universal music drama,'” writes Ms. Saller, "Fauré excelled in exquisite miniatures: chamber music, art song, piano pieces." His best-known large work—the 1890 "Requiem in D minor," Op. 48, clocks in at a modest 35 minutes or so and is characterized by a radiant and transparent sound that's miles away from Bruckner's massive sound cathedrals.

Still, the sad and wistful tone of the "Elegie" should work well as a preparation for the prolonged Wagnerian death scene that will follow it. "Fauré 's preference for light orchestral scoring," writes Dr. Beth Fleming in program notes for Symphony Silicon Valley, "is the ideal envelope for the rich, resonant tone of the 'cello, and in this beautiful work the solo voice controls the situation from the first moment to the last. Over steady chords reminiscent of a dirge, the 'cello melody leads the listener through a rapturous lament that begins dramatically and gradually becomes more quiet and resigned. The orchestra speaks alone for a time in a contrasting melody and is eventually joined by the 'cello, which takes over in a magnificent cadenza before the return of the original funereal section. Eventually the 'cello seems to sing itself into silence. The result of this tiny work is an impeccable moment of pure musical poetry."

The essentials: David Robertson conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra with Christine Brewer, soprano, and Bjorn Ranheim, cello, on Friday and Saturday at 8 p.m., March 6 and 7. The concerts feature Bruckner's "Symphony No. 3" and the "Immolation Scene" from Wagner's " Götterdämmerung" ("Twilight of the Gods"). The concerts take place at Powell Symphony Hall, 718 North Grand in Grand Center. For more information: stlsymphony.org.

Electric shocks

Who: The St. Louis Symphony Orchestra, Chorus, and Children’s Chorus conducted by David Robertson with soloists Susanna Phillips, soprano; Kelley O'Connor, mezzo-soprano; Joseph Kaiser, tenor; Keith Boyer, tenor; Mark Freiman, bass; and Corey McKern, baritone
What: Music of Bruckner, Berg, and Beethoven
Where: Powell Symphony Hall
When: May 9-12, 2013

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For the second week in a row, Maestro David Robertson has taken a well-known piece in the standard repertoire, plugged it into a high-voltage socket, and produced a performance that crackles with electricity.

Susanna Phillips

Last week it was Schubert’s 1822 “Unfinished” symphony. This week it was a work composed around the same time—Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 in D minor, Op. 125, a.k.a. the “Choral” symphony. Working without a score and conducting a chorus that was singing from memory, Mr. Robertson gave us a 9th that demanded attention from the first notes and didn’t let go until the final rousing chords. Like my personal favorite Beethoven 9th (the one with Roger Norrington and the London Classical Players), this was a performance that generated a tremendous amount of excitement. Yes, there were bits of ragged playing here and there, but only a few and not nearly enough to take away from the truly stunning impact of what Mr. Robertson, chorus director Amy Kaiser, and their forces accomplished here. The little burst of spontaneous applause that followed the first movement Thursday night (graciously acknowledged by Mr. Robertson) was an indication of how caught up the audience was.

Kelley O'Connor

Like many young vocal performers, the soloists for the Beethoven all had solid opera credentials; pure recitalists seem rather rare these days. From my point of view, that’s all to the good. Soprano Susanna Phillips, mezzo Kelley O'Connor, tenor Joseph Kaiser, and baritone Corey McKern all acted the text of the final movement as well as they sang it, and they sang it wonderfully. They were also more easily heard (at least from our seats in the Dress Circle) than vocal soloists sometimes are at Powell due, I expect, to their placement above and behind the orchestra rather than in front of it as is usually the case. My experience has been that the farther front soloists are, the harder they are to hear upstairs.

Joseph Kaiser

Those theatrical skills were put to good use in the first half of the program as well, which consisted of a brief Bruckner motet, Christus Factus Est, followed without pause by the grim and violent final act of Berg’s opera Wozzeck.

Although separated by only a little over thirty years, the Bruckner (from 1884) and Berg (composed between 1917 and 1922) are from radically different worlds. The Latin text for the former is about the exaltation of Christ while the German text for the latter, adapted by the composer from Georg Büchner’s unfinished tragedy from 1836-37, is about the debasement of the hapless titular army private. Bruckner’s glorious a cappella music—sung with tremendous power and beauty by the members of the Symphony Chorus—portrays Christ dying for humanity’s sins. Berg’s unsettling twelve-tone score employs a massive post-Wagnerian orchestra to accompany Wozzeck’s murder of his mistress Marie and his own accidental death (or maybe it’s suicide) while trying to cover up the crime.

Corey McKern

The contrast between these two works could not be greater, but oddly enough they seemed to work as a dramatic whole.

The Wozzeck excerpt, in particular, was remarkably compelling, given that this was a semi-staged concert presentation of a work that is, to say the least, overtly theatrical. The various locations—Marie’s bedroom, a lake, and a rowdy tavern—were suggested with lighting, and the limited action took place on a small platform between the chorus and orchestra. The brief appearances by the Lieutenant (tenor Keith Boyer) and the Doctor (bass Mark Freiman) were pushed down to the aisle between the lip of the stage and the first row of seats, as was the final grim scene in which a group of children (members of the Children’s Chorus) tell Marie’s uncomprehending child that his mother is dead. It was all a bit awkward and should have made suspension of disbelief difficult, but Berg’s brilliantly evocative music made it effortless. It helped that Mr. McKern’s Wozzeck, Ms. Phillips’s Marie, and Ms. O’Connor’s Margret (Marie’s friend, who calls Wozzeck out for the blood on his hands) were so completely credible.

Mr. Robertson’s interpretation was wonderfully knowing and dramatic, and the members of the orchestra played with their usual consummate skill. That’s all the more impressive when you take into account that Berg’s score is not easy to navigate and not often heard locally. I don’t think the opera has ever been staged here, and the Symphony’s last concert performance was over forty years ago.

I’ve always felt a bit ambivalent about Wozzeck—attracted by the music, repelled by the story—but Thursday’s performance has got me thinking that one of our local opera companies might want to take a look at it. It might be a bit risky for Opera Theatre, but it might be right up Union Avenue’s alley.

These concerts concluded the regular season, but post-season action continues next week with The Music of Whitney Houston on Friday, May 17; a free Youth Orchestra Concert on Saturday, May 18; and a Tribute to Richard Hayman on Sunday, May 19. Every audience member at that last one gets a free harmonica to play along with the orchestra and harmonica player Mike Runyan.

Concerts in June include the 1812 Overture and Bolero on June 8 and a League of American Orchestras Conference Concert on June 18 featuring Sibelius’s Symphony No. 7 and John Adams’s "Doctor Atomic" Symphony. For ticket information: stlsymphony.org.

Finally, this postscript: this weekend’s concerts marked not only the end of the current season, but also the retirement of two highly respected Symphony musicians: harpist Frances Tietov and bass clarinet James Meyer. Mr. Robertson took a few moments at the beginning of the concert to honor both retirees, who received a warm round of applause from the audience.

Sound and fury

Erin Schreiber

Who: The St. Louis Symphony Orchestra conducted by David Robertson with violinist Erin Schreiber
What: Music of Purcell, Berio, and Bruckner
Where: Powell Symphony Hall, St. Louis
When: November 18 and 19, 2011

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Writers of music criticism seem unable to discuss the symphonies of Anton Bruckner without invoking the imagery of the Gothic cathedral. Perhaps that’s because they so strongly suggest a connection between the material and ethereal planes – great blocks of sound alternating with moments of otherworldly beauty. The St. Louis Symphony erected a particularly fine Bruckner 7th cathedral on the Powell Hall stage this weekend, preceded by some flashy (if superficial) Berio and sublime Purcell.

It was, as you might imagine, an evening of strong contrasts. This was most apparent in the brief first part of the program, consisting of two radically different works based on the chaconne – a musical form in which a short, repeated melody (usually in the bass line) forms the basis for a series of variations.

The opening work, Henry Purcell’s sublime Chacony in G minor, is a classic example. Originally composed for a viol consort in the 1680s, the composer later expanded the Chacony into an elaborate five-minute fantasia for string orchestra that rings elaborate changes on a deceptively simple-sounding tune. The Symphony strings were truly in their element here, with beautiful tone and perfect intonation.

Beauty, on the other hand, seems to have been the last thing on Luciano Berio’s mind when he wrote the 1981 Corale (on Sequenza VIII) for violin, two horns, and strings. Although the program annotator attempts to make a case for the notion that the work’s focus on two notes – A and B – makes it a kind of chaconne, this strikes me a stretching the definition of the term past the breaking point. To my ears, the Corale is mini concerto that pays indirect homage to the Baroque concerto grosso. A few truly sublime moments for the solo violin aside, the sound is, for the most part, raucously dissonant (often reminiscent of a beehive on full alert) with alarmingly difficult writing for soloist and orchestra alike.

Barefoot and dressed in a flowing black gown, symphony Assistant Concertmaster Erin Schreiber took the solo role and seriously rocked the house. She attacked the aggressive passages (which take up most of the work’s 15-minute length) with athletic vigor, stamping her foot to keep time, but was equally at home the in the occasional flights of lyric beauty. Mr. Robertson and the orchestra were with her all the way, with especially impressive work from the horns, to whom Berio assigns some solo passages that are every bit as startling as the violin line.

Symphony audiences are sometimes overly generous with their standing ovations, but in this case it was well earned. The Corale”may ultimately be a lot of sound and fury signifying nothing, but it certainly does give a virtuoso ensemble like ours a chance to shine.

The major event of the evening, of course, was the Symphony No. 7 by Anton Bruckner. First performed in 1884 and not heard locally since Hans Vonk conducted it back in 1997 (an excellent recording of which is available at the Symphony Boutique), the 7th is in some ways the quintessential Bruckner symphony. The opening movement alternates moments of great, heaven-storming power and quiet mystery, the Adagio builds to a rapturous climax, the Scherzo swings back and forth between the demonic and the bucolic, and the Finale builds inexorably to sheer, brass-heavy exultation. If you only want one Bruckner symphony in your collection, this would be it.

Each movement of the 7th is a kind of world unto itself, and not just because of the sheer length of each ("In the first movement alone,” Sir Thomas Beecham once remarked, “I took note of six pregnancies and at least four miscarriages."). Time seems to act differently here, with each movement incorporating so much emotional depth that it can feel both shorter and longer than the clock indicates. The challenge for the conductor is to fully realize each of those musical environments without losing a sense of what Mr. Robertson refers to as the work’s “insistent pulse”.

Not surprisingly, Mr. Robertson and his forces were fully up to that challenge. Every decision he made felt right to me, and they all contributed to the cumulative power of the music. Tempi were well chosen, and even when (as in the Adagio) they didn’t quite suit my taste, they nonetheless made sense in the context of his overall view of the symphony. The orchestral sound was delicious, some minor intonation issues in the brasses not withstanding, and balances were very good.

That’s no small task given the expanded brass contingent, which includes four “Wagner tubas” – instruments in the euphonium range but with smaller bells and French horn mouthpieces. Mr. Robertson’s decision to divide the brass into two groups on opposite sides of the stage and place the basses at the very back on a raised platform probably helped in that regard. When dealing with forces of this size, some creative staging can’t hurt.

The complexity and length of Bruckner’s symphonies and the number of musicians required make them relative rarities on concert programs. Let’s hope the Symphony builds on the success of this weekend’s 7th by programming more Bruckner in the future. I’d love to hear a good live performance of the apocalyptic 8th or the more concise 4th myself.

Next at Powell Hall: On November 25 and 26, David Robertson returns with a program more oriented towards the tried and true with Saint-Saëns ‘s Introduction and Rondo capriccioso, Ravel’s Rhapsodie espagnole and Bolero, and the premiere of Juan Carmona’s Sinfonia Flamenca. Second Associate Concertmaster Celeste Golden Boyer has solo honors in the Saint-Saëns. Perhaps this will pull back some regulars who were apparently put off by Berio and/or Bruckner. For more information you may call 314-534-1700, visit stlsymphony.org, like the Saint Louis Symphony Facebook page, or follow @slso on Twitter.