Review: Get your war on

This article originally appeared at 88.1 KDHX, where Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.

Cristian Macelaru

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War may be, as the classic songs says, good for absolutely nothing, but opposition to it has certainly inspired some great music, as the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra program this past weekend (March 10 and 11, 2018) demonstrated.

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

Guest conductor Cristian Macelaru led the SLSO in two works inspired by the horrors of World War I--Benjamin Benjamin Britten's 1940 "Sinfonia da Requiem" and Ralph Vaughan Williams's "Symphony No. 4" from 1931. Also on the program was the "Violin Concerto No. 3," one of several works Camille Saint Saëns wrote as part of a nationalist response to France's defeat in the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-71.

The Britten work opened Saturday night's concert with, literally, a bang on the tympani and bass drum. It's the beginning of the ominous tread of the death march that makes up the first movement (titled "Lacrymosa") of the "Sinfonia." Mr. Macelaru placed the percussion section on a platform at the back of the orchestra, which gave added power to their sound. He took that movement a bit on the slow side, which made the contrast with the skittering "Dies Irae" that followed that much more stark. The brass attacks were impressively crisp in the second movement and the concluding "Requiem aeternam," with its majestic plea for peace in the form of a noble and tranquil melody in the strings, had great power. It was, in short, a moving performance of a work that Britten (quoted in an April 27, 1940, piece in the New York Sun) said was intended to be "just as anti-war as possible."

The Vaughan Williams symphony that closed the concert is also fiercely anti-war, but whereas Britten's "Sinfonia" ends with peace, the Vaughan Williams is angry to the very end, expressing the composer's disgust with a world that had not only failed to learn the lessons of the First World War, but was determined to repeat the process.

From the harsh, dissonant opening--cribbed, as the composer would later admit, from the opening of the final movement of Beethoven's "Symphony No. 9"--to the complex fugal march of the finale, this is angry and ultimately nihilistic music. There's a kind of majestic horror to the piece, rather like a Shakespearean tragedy boiled down to its essence, and Mr. Macelaru's intensely committed performance brought out every bit of its drama.

The electrifying first movement had a compelling and savage intensity, with powerful playing by the strings and brasses. The despairing second movement was capped by a pristine performance of the sad flute solo by Mark Sparks, which contrasted strongly with the breakneck pace of the third, played with appropriately violent precision. The ominous transition to the deranged march of the fourth movement was perfectly paced and played with ferocious perfection.

James Ehnes
Photo by Ben Ealovega

I've always liked the Vaughan Williams Fourth, but I'd be less than honest if I didn't admit that listening to it can be emotionally exhausting, at least when it's done this well. It looked like it could be pretty physically taxing for the orchestra as well, but they all played beautifully.

The Saint Saëns concerto closed out the first half of the concert and while it, too, is a dramatic work, it's also elegant and charming. There's plenty of flash in the solo violin part, especially in the Spanish flair of the final movement (a reminder that the concerto was written with Pablo de Sarasate in mind), but there's also lyrical beauty in this music. That's most apparent in the second movement, a gently rocking barcarolle that concludes with a delicate duet for clarinet and violin harmonics.

Soloist James Ehnes is not, as I noted the last time he appeared here, a showy artist. Tall and imposing in white tie and tails, he cut a magisterial figure on stage Saturday night.

He approached the first movement with authority and restraint, but had no hesitation about throwing his whole body into its dramatic final pages. He and Mr. Macelaru gave the second movement a feathery delicacy, especially in the final duet with the clarinet, and they tore into the finale with impressive passion.

The standing ovation that followed was no surprise, but the encore was: Sibelius's "Humoresque No. 3 in G minor" for Violin and Orchestra, op. 89, no. 1. It's unusual to get an encore with orchestral accompaniment, but as Mr. Ehnes pointed out in his tongue-in-cheek introduction, "the maestro didn't think I had enough to do in that last piece." It was a completely charming miniature, conjuring up images of Finnish folk fiddling, and a great way to send us off to the intermission.

Next at Powell Hall: Bernard Labadie conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and soprano soloist Lydia Teuscher Friday and Saturday at 8 pm, March 16 and 17. The program consists of Haydn's "Symphony No. 99," the "Symphony in C minor" by Henri-Joseph Rigel, and opera and concert arias by Mozart. Resident Conductor Gemma New leads the orchestra in "Pinocchio's Adventures in Funland," a Family Concert on Sunday, March 18, at 3 pm. The concerts take place at Powell Symphony Hall, 718 North Grand in Grand Center.

Symphony Preview: War, what is it good for?

This article originally appeared at 88.1 KDHX, where Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.

Benjamin Britten

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That most pernicious of human inventions, organized warfare, lurks in the background of the three major works that Cristian Macelaru will conduct in this weekend's St. Louis Symphony Orchestra concerts. It was the direct inspiration for one, indirectly responsible for another, and may (or may not) have been the idea behind the third.

The piece that opens this weekend's concerts, Benjamin Britten's 1940 "Sinfonia da requiem," is the most directly related to war. That's because, as Richard Freed points out in program notes for the Kennedy Center, "Britten was a dedicated pacifist, and actually a conscientious objector during World War II. In composing this work he undertook to register his personal feelings about war by calling his symphony a requiem and giving its three movements headings taken from the Roman Catholic Mass for the Dead--looking ahead, in a sense, to the War Requiem he would compose several years after the end of that war." Britten himself left no doubt about this when he was quoted in an April 27, 1940, piece in the New York Sun (quoted in Mervyn Cook's "Britten: War Requiem"): "I'm making it just as anti-war as possible ... I don't believe you can express social or political or economic theories in music, but by coupling new music with well-known musical phrases, I think it's possible to get over certain ideas ... all I'm sure of is my own anti-war conviction as I write it."

That didn't sit well with the Japanese government, which had commissioned the work (along with several others) as part of a celebration of the 2600th year of its reigning dynasty, and they ultimately rejected it. Given that they had already invaded China and would soon ally themselves with Germany and Italy, that's perhaps not too surprising.

It's certainly a powerful piece of music, opening with a dramatic bang on the tympani that sets the pace for the relentless death march of the first movement, subtitled "Lacrymosa" (all three movements take their titles from sections of the Catholic requiem mass). The "Dies irae" second movement is an eerie dance of death, and it's only in the final movement, "Requiem aeternam," that the mood turns to peace and (to quote Mr. Freed again) "balances the outrage and grief of the opening slow movement with a gesture of consolation and peace." We could certainly use some of that right now.

Camille Saint Saëns in 1900

Unlike the "Sinfonia," Saint Saëns's Violin Concerto No. 3 in B minor, op. 61, wasn't written as a response to the horror of war, but it does indirectly owe existence to a particular conflict: the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-71. The conflict ended with a French defeat which, in turn, led to a nationalist movement among French composers, as discussed in Aspen Music Festival program notes:

Following the shock of French defeat in the Franco Prussian War (including months of a debilitating siege of Paris in late 1870 and early 1871), Saint Saëns was one of the leaders of a movement to reestablish French art, particularly with the aim of promoting musical forms that seemed to have been dominated for decades by German composers. This meant the abstract instrumental forms of symphony and concerto. Since the early part of Berlioz's career forty years before, there had been virtually no French composers interested in large form concert music, instead the opera and ballet attracted the attention of composers and audiences. Shortly after the Siege of Paris had been lifted, Saint Saëns founded the Société Nationale de Musique, with the motto "ars gallica," to promote new French music, especially in the abstract genres. In addition to Saint Saëns himself, the Society included in its organizing committee Fauré, Franck, and Lalo. Over the years the Society sponsored premieres of important new works by leading French composers.

By this time Saint Saëns had already composed three piano concertos and two violin concertos, but these early works were relatively light in character with frivolous finales that suited the prevailing mood of the frivolous Second Empire so well characterized by the flippant operettas of Jacques Offenbach. The later concertos--including the last two for piano, the Cello Concerto, and the Third Violin Concerto, are altogether more serious.

The Concerto No. 3 declares its dramatic nature from the first notes, as the soloist enters with a forceful, ascending theme over tremolo strings; no conventional orchestral introduction here! The second theme offers some lyrical contrast, but overall this is a movement that displays what the Aspen Festival notes describe as "a careful gradation of intensity and brilliance that was rare in French scores of the day."

The second movement is a gently rocking barcarolle that concludes with a delicate duet for clarinet and violin harmonics (that flute-like sound produced by lightly touching the strings instead of fully depressing them) that's a classic example of Saint Saëns's skill as an orchestrator. The finale has a Spanish flair that reminds us of the fact that the work was written with the great composer and violin virtuoso Pablo de Sarasate in mind.

It is, in short, a concerto that calls for both technique and artistic sensitivity. I look forward to seeing what Canadian violinist James Ehnes, this weekend's soloist, does with it. Reviewing his 2009 recording of the complete Paganini "Caprices," The Times (London) said that he displayed "playing of phenomenal control, allied to musicianship of the highest order," which certainly bodes well.

Finally, a few words about the Symphony No. 4 in F minor, written in 1931 by Ralph Vaughan Williams. It's a harsh, angry, and unapologetically dissonant work that took many listeners by surprise, particularly when compared with the apparent tranquility of his Symphony No. 3 ("A Pastoral Symphony") from 1921. As World War II began to heat up in the years following its 1935 premiere, some began to see it as a response to the rise of Fascism, although according to Vaughan Williams's biographer Michael Kennedy (in "The Works of Ralph Vaughan Williams," 1980) the composer himself explicitly disavowed that connection.

Ralph Vaughan Williams

Rather than anticipating World War II, many have seen the Symphony No. 4 as a reflection of the composer's experiences in World War I. This point is made tellingly by Byron Adams, in his notes for the American Symphony Orchestra . Pointing out that that "it may take veterans many years to process the horror they have witnessed in combat," he goes on to observe how this apparently played out in music Vaughan Williams wrote after The War to End All Wars:

The returning veteran initially seeks peace and regularity, as the natural response of violent indignation is put off as being too painful. In the case of Ralph Vaughan Williams, his searing experiences as a middle-aged stretcher-bearer and later as an artillery officer in the trenches of the First World War cast a shadow over his life thereafter. In the first years after his demobilization in 1919, he composed a series of scores--the "Pastoral" Symphony, the Mass in G minor and the one-act opera Shepherds of the Delectable Mountains--beneath whose deceptively placid surfaces lies muted but excruciating grief. Only in the1930s, when it seemed as if no one recalled the bitter lessons of the First World War, did Vaughan Williams explode with the controlled fury of his galvanic Fourth Symphony.

The fourth symphony also owes a debt to Beethoven. The composer himself (quoted by Elizabeth Schwartz at WQXR) admitted that he "cribbed ... the opening of my F minor Symphony deliberately from the finale of [Beethoven's] Ninth Symphony." British musicologist Oliver Neighbour, quoted in Mr. Adams's notes, actually suggested that the Vaughan Williams Fourth essentially rewinds the Beethoven Ninth in that "whereas Beethoven is able to dismiss his cacophony and turn to a vision of the brotherhood of man, Vaughan Williams's own Symphony ends where it began."

To me, the Vaughan Williams Fourth has always felt like a kind of aural afterimage of Beethoven's Fifth in that where Beethoven moves, over the course of his four movements, from aggression to triumph, Vaughan Williams proceeds to nihilistic despair. You can hear this most obviously in the transition from the third to the fourth movements. In both cases, the Scherzo fades to a ghostly end and then gradually builds to a big, imposing finale, but while Beethoven's final movement builds to a blaze of glory, Vaughan Williams's finale exhausts itself in what Mr. Adams describes as "a minatory parody of a triumphal march."

Both works are big, dramatic, and compelling, but after listening to the Vaughan Williams, I feel like I have just seen a Shakespearean tragedy in which (to quote Edgar Allan Poe) the hero is "the conqueror worm." That's why my favorite recording of the work is the live 1962 performance by Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic, which follows up the final angry notes of the symphony with Vaughan Williams's beautiful "Serenade to Music" for vocal soloists and orchestra. With a text taken from the discussion of music from Act V of "The Merchant of Venice," it's the ideal antidote.

The Essentials: Cristian Macelaru conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and violin soloist James Ehnes Saturday at 8 pm and Sunday at 3 pm, March 10 and 11. Also at Powell Hall this weekend: Grammy Award-winning singer and rapper Wyclef Jean joins the orchestra for "A Night of Symphonic Hip-Hop" on Friday, March 9th, at 7:30 pm. The concerts take place at Powell Symphony Hall, 718 North Grand in Grand Center.

Symphony Preview: News of the world

This article originally appeared at 88.1 KDHX, where Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.

Dmitri Shostakovich in 1935

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In the introduction to his chapter on Shostakovich in the 1967 Penguin Books edition of The Symphony, British musicologist Robert Layton described the Russian symphonist somewhat dismissively as a "documentary composer, far more bound up with this time than...Prokofiev, or any other of his Soviet contemporaries."

These days that would probably be a minority view. Yes, Shostakovich was heavily influenced by the economic and political turmoil that characterized 20th century Russian history. How could it be otherwise? But even in the early Symphony No. 1, which David Robertson and the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra will perform this weekend (January 12 and 13), you can hear how he transmuted those external experiences into a sound that was uniquely his own.

Written as a Leningrad Conservatory graduation piece and first performed in 1926 (when the composer was only 19), Shostakovich's First Symphony is a remarkable study in contrasts, with chamber music-style solo passages cheek by jowl with the full-tilt bombast of the composer's more popular works. Perky melodies reminiscent of the stuff Shostakovich probably heard during his work as a cinema pianist pop up in the first and second movements, standing in stark juxtaposition to the brooding and sporadically anguished gloom of the third. There's a piano part that calls to mind Stravinsky's Petrushka. And the final Allegro molto wraps everything up in a classic flourish of brass and percussion, reflecting the young composer's brash confidence while still retaining the sense of sarcasm that is always just below the surface.

It is, in short, a collage of external influences unified by Shostakovich's unique sensibility. It's not a documentary, it's art, even if it's a bit rough around the edges.

Also on the program is a piece that Mr. Layton might also have considered a "documentary" work in that it was inspired by the geopolitical news of the day. It's the Violin Concerto Op. 15, written by Benjamin Britten in 1938 and 1939 and later revised in 1950. Composed for Spanish violinist Toni Brosa, the concerto reflects the composer's sorrow over the Spanish civil war, which tore the nation apart from 1936 to 1939, ending with the triumph of Franco's brutal fascist regime.

Britten was very fond of the work. "It is without question my best piece," he observed. "It is rather serious I'm afraid." That was putting it mildly. Running around 40 minutes, the concerto is a dramatic and sometimes disturbing piece that combines fierce technical challenges with strong emotional content.

The concerto opens with a short (five note) figure on the tympani (a possible reference to the opening of Beethoven's Violin Concerto) that's soon joined by an anguished, ascending theme on the violin. The two ideas dominate the rest of the movement, sometimes in opposition to each other, sometimes joined so closely that it's hard to tell them apart. The second movement is a wildly virtuosic scherzo that feels like one of Hieronymus Bosch's creepier paintings set to music. It's almost monothematic, based largely on a triplet figure that's first stated by the violin and then gurgles away in the bassoons before moving on to the rest of the orchestra.

Benjamin Britten (R) and tenor Peter Pears with canine friend

A cadenza leads to the final movement. Marked "Andante lento," it's a passacaglia (a series of variations on a repeating theme in the bass line) that drips with anguish. "I began to feel as if I was in a massive church," writes Ben Hogwood in his Good Morning Britten blog, "the horns intoning a chant that gets taken up by the strings, as if the orchestra is slowly standing in response to the soloist's pleas for peace. Here the music sounds more like Shostakovich than any Britten so far, but at no point is it derivative. The closing notes are, in a sense, infuriating, because Britten deliberately plays between the major and minor key. The home 'note' of D isn't in question, but he creates continued uncertainty by refusing to resolve, and that stays with the listener afterwards".

Much, I imagine, like the uncertainty about the future one might feel when one's country has fallen under the heel of fascism.

"It's quite demanding, definitely," notes violinist Janine Jansen in a 2010 interview for violinist.com about her recording of the concerto with Paavo Järvi and the London Symphony. "There are some places, like the Scherzo, in the second movement, where it's very fast and there are a lot of double stops, and even double-stop harmonics. So it's quite tricky...But it is written so well, it's really an amazing piece to play, even with its difficulties. One doesn't think about it during the performance because one is so taken by the music and especially, for me, the end of the piece. The whole coda --this is the most impressive moment. It starts like a prayer, but it ends in a kind of scream, it's incredible. Every time one plays it, one can't move afterwards, physically and emotionally."

The soloist this weekend is Augustin Hadelich. I last heard him here in 2013 in a performance of Paganini's Violin Concerto No. 1 that combined virtuoso flash with real emotional sensitivity. He'll certainly need both of those skill sets for the Britten concerto.

The concert opens with a newly assembled suite from the 1995 chamber opera Powder Her Face by contemporary British composer Thomas Adès. The opera is based on the life of Margaret Campbell, Duchess of Argyll (1912-1993), whose elegant and fashionable life took a bizarre turn after a near-fatal fall down an elevator shaft in 1943. She emerged from the ordeal with no sense of smell or taste and a voracious sexual appetite--a great deal of which was on display in the notorious 1963 divorce trial that ended her marriage to Ian Douglas Campbell, 11th Duke of Argyll. A lavish lifestyle and bad investments eventually led to a penniless death but (to quote a Tom Lehrer lyric about a very different historical figure) "the body that reached her embalmer / was one that had known how to live."

The suite, a 2017 co-commission by the SLSO along with four other notable orchestras and Carnegie Hall, consists of three dance episodes from the opera (published 2007 as Dances from Powder Her Face and performed by the SLSO in October 2013) along with five additional movements. The original scoring for a 15-piece pit orchestra has been expanded to symphonic proportions, with a large percussion battery that includes a pop gun, a washboard, two whips (!) and a paper bag.

"I'm not making this up, you know," as Anna Russell once said.

The Essentials: David Robertson conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and violin soloist Augustin Hadelich Friday at 10:30 am and Saturday at 8 pm, January 12 and 13. The concerts take place at Powell Symphony Hall, 718 North Grand in Grand Center.

Big Bang

Nicholas Phan

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Who: The St. Louis Symphony Orchestra conducted by David Robertson, with tenor soloist Nicholas Phan
What: Music of Marc-André Dalbavie, Britten, and Tchaikovsky
When: May 9-11, 2014
Where: Powell Symphony Hall

If you're going to bring in a singer as a last-minute substitute, it's good to have one like tenor Nicholas Phan, who has clearly internalized the music and made it his own. His performance of Britten's song cycle "Les Illuminations" with David Robertson and the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra Friday night was—well—luminous. So was Marc-André Dalbavie's ethereally lovely "La Source d'un regard," a 2007 work getting its local premiere. The evening closed with a bold and dramatic Tchaikovsky "Symphony No. 5" which was not to be missed.

[Find out more about the music with the symphony program notes and my Symphony Preview article.]

Mr. Phan was actually the third performer scheduled to sing the Britten this weekend. When the concert was first announced, the soloist was to be a local favorite, soprano Christine Brewer. Last July, though, she had to pull out because her agent had double-booked her with an engagement with Chicago Lyric Opera. She was replaced with tenor Andrew Kennedy who was in turn replaced on April 29th with Mr. Phan.

Mr. Phan has performed "Les Illuminations" before and, indeed, talked about being "obsessed with" Britten's music in a 2010 interview. His performance Friday night was certainly assured. Singing without a score, Mr. Phan was thoroughly engaged with the vivid and surrealistic Rimbaud poems that constitute the text of "Les Illuminations."

Possibly written under the mind-altering influences of absinthe and hashish, the poems present a succession of surrealistic pictures, culminating in a somewhat nightmarish parade. It's fanciful and fascinating stuff, especially sung with this kind of commitment. Mr. Phan's voice was wonderfully flexible and he sounded entirely comfortable even when the music pulled him up towards the top of his register.

The music is officially designated as being for "high voice," by the way, which is why it can be sung by either a tenor or soprano. It was dedicated to and first performed by Sophie Wyss in 1940, but Britten and his life partner, the legendary English tenor Peter Pears, made a recording of it with the English Chamber Orchestra that is also highly regarded.

""Les Illuminations" is scored for string ensemble, which gave the symphony strings a chance to show off. The sound was lovely, with fine solo work by Concertmaster David Halen, Principal Viola Beth Guterman Chu, and Principal Cello Daniel Lee. Mr. Robertson and Mr. Phan were clearly on the same wavelength throughout, producing a wonderfully evocative performance of this wildly imaginative music.

Before the Britten we had the evanescent and often oddly beautiful "La Source d'un regard" by Marc-André Dalbavie. An admirer of the influential Olivier Messiaen (1908–1992), Dalbavie, as Paul Schiavo writes in his program notes, "is one of a number of recent composers, mostly French, who have developed what has come to be called 'spectralism,' a music that derives its harmonies from overtones, the high-pitched resonance that accompanies musical pitches, usually below the threshold of hearing." "La Source d'un regard," to my ears, sounded rather like Debussy crossed with Charles Ives's "The Housatonic at Stockbridge": a swirl of microtonal harmonies, a shifting and often barely discernable rhythmic pulse, and a sense of time standing still—or at least suspended.

This was music so gossamer-thin that at times it was hardly there at all and defies easy description. It was minimalist in some ways, but minimalist through subtlety rather than (as in the case of Reich's "The Four Sections" from last week) endless repetition. Unlike the Reich, "La Source d'un regard" sounds like a piece that leaves a fair amount of room for interpretation, and I expect it must be rewarding to play. Mr. Robertson and his forces undoubtedly made a strong case for it, with superb work by all concerned.

The concert closed with what was, I'm sure, the big draw for many members of the audience: Tchaikovsky's "Symphony No. 5 in E minor," Op. 64, from 1888. Like the symphonies that bracket it, the fifth deals with the composer's obsession with fate and his attempt to find happiness despite his depression and the stress of being gay in Czarist Russia. The fifth is less structurally coherent than the sixth or (especially) the fourth symphonies, but its triumphant final pages have a power that can't be denied.

Mr. Robertson's approach didn't stint on the power, but he also brought out the passion. The orchestra's sound was particularly lush and Mr. Robertson's measure use of rubato in (for example) the second subject of the first movement brought out just that extra measure of drama.

In an essay for the 1966 Penguin collection "The Symphony," the Austrian-born British music writer Hans Keller noted that the Fifth "may be the most consistently outstanding" of all Tchaikovsky's symphonies in the way that the orchestration "offers original sounds at every change of texture. If this is not generally recognized, it is only because all these sonorities seem as natural and necessary as the hills." Mr. Robertson's approach very much emphasized the originality and beauty of that orchestration—something that can get lost in the work's bombast.

There was some very fine solo work here. Principal Horn Roger Kaza, of course, takes pride of place for his golden, burnished tone in the famous opening pages of the second movement, followed closely by clarinetists Scott Andrews and Timothy Zavadil in the opening "fate" motif. Principal Bassoon Andrew Cuneo, Acting Co-Principal Oboe Phil Ross, and Principal Flute Mark Sparks all had standout moments, as did Shannon Wood on tympani.

This was, in sum, a perfectly balanced Tchaikovsky Fifth, and a fine way to end the regular concert season. You have one more chance to catch it live on Sunday, May 11, at 3 PM. For more information: stlsymphony.org.

Next at Powell Hall, the first in a series of post-season concerts as the symphony performs "Stayin' Alive: a Tribute to the Bee Gees" on Saturday, May 17, at 7:30 PM.

Tales of the unexpected

Marc-André Dalbavie

The symphony closes out its regular season this week as David Robertson returns to the podium for a program that features a dramatic Tchaikovsky symphony, a hallucinatory song cycle by Britten, and a new piece by a French composer of "spectralist" music. Variety? We've got it.

The program opens with "La Source d'un regard," composed on commission in 2007 by Marc-André Dalbavie. An admirer of the influential Olivier Messiaen (1908-1992), Dalbavie uses fragments from some of the older composer's works in this piece, but his compositional approach makes it unlikely that even the most dedicated admirer of Messiaen will recognize them.

"Dalbavie," writes Paul Schiavo in his program notes, "is one of a number of recent composers, mostly French, who have developed what has come to be called 'spectralism,' a music that derives its harmonies from overtones, the high-pitched resonance that accompanies musical pitches, usually below the threshold of hearing." The result is music so delicate that (as Philadelphia Inquirer music critic Peter Dobrin wrote of the work's premiere there) "[a]spects of it—melody, for instance—are so subtle they seem written in invisible ink. Even the occasional sonic jab, while menacing, is not jarring enough to disturb the work's incredibly transporting quality." "Spectral" music is often microtonal—using intervals smaller than those normally heard in Western music—and tosses out conventional idea of harmonic or rhythmic motion. That should make it an interesting challenge for the audience as well as the orchestra.

Benjamin Britten in the 1960s

Benjamin Britten's 1939 song cycle "Les Illuminations" is up next. Begun in Suffolk but completed during a brief period of self-imposed exile in the USA (Britten was put off by what Mr. Schiavo describes as "a deepening political, social, and artistic conservatism" in England), the piece sets to music a collection of wildly imaginative poems by the eccentric French writer Arthur Rimbaud, a remarkable character who lived fast, died young (age 37), and produced his entire literary output before the age of 20. Possibly written under the mind-altering influences of absinthe and hashish, the poems present a succession of surrealistic pictures, culminating in a somewhat nightmarish parade. It's fanciful and fascinating stuff.

Although written for a soprano, "Les Illuminations" is often performed by a tenor. In fact, Britten's life partner (the great English tenor Peter Pears), made a recording of it with the composer conducting the English Chamber Orchestra—one that's regarded as a definitive interpretation. That's fortunate, since the originally scheduled soloist for these concerts—hometown gal Christine Brewer—had to cancel her appearance when it turned out her agent had booked her for a conflicting appearance as the Abbess in Lyric Opera of Chicago's production of "The Sound of Music" (she now has a new agent). It's tough enough when you have to change the soloist; much worse when the music changes as well.

In fact, Ms. Brewer was not the last performer to withdraw from "Les Illuminations". As the symphony announced in an April 29th press release, the tenor listed in the printed program, Andrew Kennedy, has been replaced by Nicholas Phan. The release doesn't give a reason for the change, although it does note that Mr. Phan was named one of National Public Radio's Favorite New Artists of 2011 and points out that he's no stranger to the Powell Hall stage, having appeared in the Bach "Christmas Oratorio" last December. At the time I was impressed with his ability to bring a theatrical sensibility to the role of the Evangelist without compromising the music. In a 2010 interview he talks about being obsessed with Britten, so I look forward to hearing what he does with this music.

Tchaikovsky in 1888

The concerts conclude with one of Pete Tchaikovsky's Greatest Hits, the "Symphony No. 5 in E minor," Op. 64, from 1888. Like the symphonies that bracket it, the fifth deals with the composer's obsession with fate and his attempt to find happiness despite what Mr. Schiavo describes as "difficult personal circumstances" and what I'd describe as the stress of being gay in Czarist Russia. If you need evidence of the pernicious effects of criminalizing sexual orientation, you need look no further than the pain and torment of Tchaikovsky's life.

Somewhat surprisingly (in light of its enduring popularity), Tchaikovsky began the symphony at a time when he thought he might be played out. "Have I written myself out?" he asked in an April 1888 letter to his brother Modest. "No ideas? No inclination? Still, I am hoping to collect materials for a symphony." He continued to question himself after the lukewarm critical reception of the piece at its November 17th, 1888, premiere in St. Petersburg (due, in part, to the composer's poor performance as a conductor). Audiences and musicians, however loved it—not only in St. Petersburg but later in Prague and Hamburg as well. Time, in any event, would vindicate him (if not necessarily during his lifetime).

“There's a monumental, an epic quality to this symphony," observes symphony Principal Horn Roger Kaza in the program book, "as with all of Tchaikovsky's late symphonies, although I find this one less tragic and fatalistic than the Fourth or Sixth. The Fifth is more exuberant throughout, and it contains absolutely brilliant strokes of genius." In an essay for the 1966 Penguin collection "The Symphony," the Austrian-born British music writer Hans Keller goes so far as to suggest that the Fifth "may be the most consistently outstanding" of all Tchaikovsky's symphonies in the way that the orchestration "offers original sounds at every change of texture. If this is not generally recognized, it is only because all these sonorities seem as natural and necessary as the hills."

The essentials: David Robertson conducts The St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and tenor Nicholas Phan in Britten's "Les Illuminations," along with Tchaikovsky's "Symphony No. 5" and the St. Louis premiere of Marc-André Dalbavie's "La Source d'un regard" Friday and Saturday at 8 PM and Sunday at 3 PM, May 9-11, at Powell Symphony Hall, 718 North Grand. Washington University will sponsor a free informal Q&A session with maestro Robertson on the Orchestra Level immediately following the Friday concert. For more information: stlsymphony.org.

War and remberance

Charles Dutoit

Who: The Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Symphony Chorus, and Children’s Chorus conducted by Charles Dutoit with soloists Tatiana Pavlovskaya (soprano), John Mark Ainsley (tenor) and Matthias Goerne (baritone)
What: Britten’s War Requiem
When: November 14-16, 2013
Where:  Orchestra Hall, Chicago, IL

Writing in the Larousse Encyclopedia of Music, Donald Paine notes that Benjamin Britten's War Requiem, written for the consecration of Coventry Cathedral in 1962, "may stand as representative of his genius and of the theme that recurs throughout his work: the indictment of human folly as it shows itself both in the tragedy and wastage of war and in the corruption of human innocence." 

This massive work for chorus, children’s chorus, and orchestra combines the text of the Latin requiem mass with verses on the horror and pity of war by Wilfred Owen, the English soldier and poet who died in action in 1918.  It’s probably one of the most profoundly anti-war pieces ever written.  The performances of it at Orchestra Hall in Chicago by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Symphony Chorus, Children’s Chorus and soloists this week under the baton of Charles Dutoit fully capture the emotional power and narrative force of this profound (and profoundly sad) music.

Tatiana Pavlovskaya

The first performance of the War Requiem was intended to feature soloists from three nations devastated by the war: English tenor (and Britten’s long-time companion) Peter Pears, German baritone Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, and Russian soprano Galina Vishnevskaya (wife of famed celling Mistislav Rostropovich).  At the last minute the Soviet government refused to let Vishnevskaya perform, but she did sing the work with Fischer-Dieskau and Pears in the 1963 world premiere recording of the work with the composer himself at the podium.

The current Chicago Symphony concerts repeat the international composition of that first recording with Russian soprano Tatiana Pavlovskaya, English tenor John Mark Ainsley, and German baritone Matthias Goerne.  All three are powerful and polished singers.  Ms. Pavlovskaya’s "Libera me" was particularly gripping, Mr. Goerne’s "Bugles sang" beautifully captured the tragedy of Owen’s verses, and Mr. Ainsley’s "Anthem for Doomed Youth" ("What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?")—the Owen poem that interrupts the opening "Requiem aeternam"—was devastating in its effect. 

John Mark Ainsley

The placement of that poem, by the way, is just one of many inspired decisions on Britten’s part.  When the chorus responds with "Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison" ("Lord, have mercy on us, Christ have mercy on us"), it becomes a plea for forgiveness of the mortal sin of war.  Throughout the "War Requiem," the placement of Owen’s poems repeatedly cast the traditional Latin mass in a new light.  It becomes, ultimately, a requiem for innocence, decency, virtue, and all the other noble emotions killed by the insanity of war.

The War Requiem is a big piece, calling for a full symphony orchestra with an expanded brass section as well as harp, piano, and a positive (portable) organ to accompany the children’s chorus.  It makes big demands on an orchestra, but the Chicago musicians were more than up to the task.  The great dramatic moments like the "Dies Irae" were appropriately impressive when we attended Friday night, and the more intimate sections that make up the bulk of the piece came through with crystalline purity.  Placing the children’s chorus and positive organ up in the balcony occasionally made the sound balance a bit odd for those of us seated up there, but I think it was a good decision in terms of the overall sonic picture.  And besides, the kids sang like angels.

Matthias Goerne

This was my first opportunity to see Mr. Dutoit and work and I have to say I was fascinated.  He’s not a conductor given to big gestures, but the ones he uses are clear and focused.  His command of the orchestra appears to be precise and total, and he shapes phrases beautifully.  He also seems to appreciate the value of silence—especially at the very end of the piece, where he allowed the final "Amen" to fade out and be held by just a bit of quiet before lowering his baton for the applause.

The Symphony Chorus, if this concert was any indication, is a truly impressive organization.  Diction was wonderfully clear and their dynamic range was remarkable.

As Phillip Huscher writes in his program notes, "1961, the year Britten devoted to the War Requiem, was marred by the building of the Berlin Wall, an ominous escalation of U. S. action in Vietnam, and the incident of the Bay of Pigs.  Owen’s poems, ‘full of the hate of destruction,’ and Britten’s new score, with its call for peace, couldn’t have been more timely."  They’re even more timely today, as (to quote an Owen poem used in the piece) "the scribes on all the people shove and bawl allegiance to the state." 

In the Permanent Warfare State, presenting a work like the "War Requiem" isn’t just an artistic act, it’s a political one as well.  I’m not sure how many of the patrons at Friday’s concert saw it that way or even whether the symphony intended it that way, but it seems inescapable to me.  To quote the Owen lines that Britten used as the epigraph for his score: "My subject is War, and the pity of War.  The poetry is in the pity…All a poet can do today is warn."

The War Requiem will be repeated Saturday, November 16th, at 8 PM.  For more information: cso.org.

Great Britten

Anthony Dean Griffey as Peter Grimes in Toronto

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Who: The St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and Chorus conducted by David Robertson
What: Benjamin Britten's Peter Grimes
When: Saturday, November 16, at 8 PM
Where: Powell Symphony Hall

Writing in the Larousse Encyclopedia of Music, Donald Paine notes that Benjamin Britten's "War Requiem," written for the consecration of Coventry Cathedral in 1962, "may stand as representative of his genius and of the theme that recurs throughout his work: the indictment of human folly as it shows itself both in the tragedy and wastage of war and in the corruption of human innocence."

Those themes are present both in the "War Requiem" and in Britten's 1945 tragic opera "Peter Grimes."  Coincidentally, both works are being performed this weekend in the Midwest: the "War Requiem" in a series of concerts in Chicago Thursday through Sunday and "Peter Grimes" in a special concert performance on Saturday night here in St. Louis by the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and Chorus.

The Chicago performances are part of the Chicago Symphony's regular subscription series.  The Saturday special here is a preview of the "Peter Grimes" the symphony will be presenting in Carnegie Hall in New York on Friday, November 22nd—the 100th anniversary of Britten's birth.  It's one of over 1000 special concert events being presented this year to celebrate the great English composer's centenary; you can see a complete list at the Britten 100 web site.

Benjamin Britten
London Records 1968
publicity photo

Born in East Anglia in 1913, Britten studied composition with Frank Bridge and John Ireland.  He lived in the USA from 1939 to 1942 and then returned to settle in Aldeburgh, Suffolk, where he would remain the rest of his life.  Although he got international attention with his "Variations on a Theme of Frank Bridge" for strings in 1937, it wasn't until the 1940s that his music began to achieve widespread acceptance, with performances of his "Ceremony of Carols" (a worldwide favorite around this time of year), the "Sinfonia da Requiem," and, of course, "Peter Grimes"—a huge hit with audiences and critics alike in 1945.  By the time Britten died in 1976 he was firmly established as one of the most important figures in 20th century music.

Most classical fans are familiar with the "Four Sea Interludes from Peter Grimes."  These little gems are powerfully evocative of the geographical and psychological landscape of the opera.  They're also a nice distillation of what you can expect from the complete performance of the opera on Saturday.

Inspired by a section of the poem "The Borough" by clergyman and poet George Crabbe (1754-1832), the story revolves around the persecution of the title character – a sullen and socially awkward fisherman – by the denizens of a small coastal fishing village.  In the poem he's a clear villain but in Montagu Slater's libretto it's ambiguous how much of Grimes's tragic end is his fault and how much the result of persecution by villagers.  What's not ambiguous is that, even at the relatively young age of 31, Britten was already a master of orchestral color and mood.

"Britten," writes Paul Schiavo in his program notes, "declared that the struggle between the exceptional individual and society was ‘a subject very close to my heart.' That Peter Grimes portrays that struggle through a decidedly flawed character, less hero than anti-hero, makes it a challenging work but not a less compelling one."  It's also possible that Britten intended the work to serve, to some extent, as a condemnation of the homophobia which Britten, as a gay man, saw quite clearly in British society.

The soloists for Saturday's performance include tenor Anthony Dean Griffey as Peter Grimes (a role he has sung often, including at the Metropolitan Opera in New York), soprano Susanna Phillips as schoolmistress Ellen Orford (who suspects—but can't prove—that Grimes might be abusing his young apprentice, John), bass-baritone Alan Held as Captain Balstrode (in whom Ellen confides), and contralto Meredith Arwady as Auntie (who helps stir the mob up against Grimes).  David Robertson conducts the orchestra and chorus.

The chorus plays an important narrative role in "Peter Grimes," so precision in singing and diction will be important.  Fortunately chorus director Amy Kaiser has an awfully good track record in that regard.

"Peter Grimes" is a big undertaking for the symphony, which does a relatively small number of chorus and orchestra pieces every season and rarely anything on quite this scale.  Those chorus and orchestra concerts have, however, generally been season highlights, so I think you'll find it interesting to see and hear the results—and to see what the New York critics have to say on the 22nd.

"Peter Grimes" will be performed on Saturday, November 16, at 8 PM at Powell Hall and will be broadcast on St. Louis Public Radio at 90.7 FM, HD 1, and via streaming at the station's web site.  For more information: stlsymphony.org.