Symphony Review: Yo Yo Ma and Stéphane Denève celebrate Elgar and Debussy

While it might seem superfluous to review the concert that was part of last Friday’s (May 3) annual St. Louis Symphony Orchestra fund-raising gala, it was such a great experience that a few words are perhaps in order.

These full-evening galas typically feature an appearance by a superstar performer and this one was no exception. World-renowned cellist and activist Yo-Yo Ma was the soloist for the Cello Concerto in E minor, Op. 85, by Edward Elgar (1857–1934). First performed in 1919, it’s a spare and, with the exception of the third movement, unsentimental work. There’s little of the kind of expansive late Romantic sound that audiences had come to expect from the composer of the “Enigma Variations” or the concert overtures “Cockaigne” and “In the South.” Poorly performed by an under-rehearsed London Symphony, the concerto got a cool reception and was not repeated in London for over a year.

Yo Yo Ma

At first blush, it seemed an odd choice for a basically celebratory evening, but Ma’s performance was so breathtakingly stellar that the wisdom of that decision quickly became clear. Ma’s sound was uniformly full and robust throughout its range, with even the faintest harmonics emerging with impressive clarity. Maestro Stéphane Denève’s introduction of Ma referred to “the diamond of his sound,” which sounds like hyperbole but was, in fact, completely accurate.

Coupled with his visible emotional commitment to the music and his close communication with both Denève and the orchestra, that sound resulted in a reading of hypnotic intensity. I have never been a great admirer of the Elgar concerto in the past, but Yo-Yo Ma and Stéphane Denève made me a believer last Friday night.

Better yet, the Elgar was preceded by a splendid performance of the popular “La Mer,” written in 1904 by Claude Debussy (1862–1918).  I missed Denève’s last performance of this in 2019, so it was an immense pleasure to see and hear it this time around. His ability to bring out the smallest orchestral details without ever losing sight of the dramatic sweep of Debussy’s brilliant musical canvas reminded me once again that when he conducts, you will hear everything. That includes elements of the music that you might never have noticed before, even if it’s a piece like “La Mer” that has become an audience favorite over the last century.

As Yo-Yo Ma pointed out while introducing his encore Friday night, one of the great things about the SLSO is that “everybody is listening…everybody cares.”

Ma went on to announce that the encore was the 1939 arrangement of the Catalan folk song “El Cant dels Ocells” (“The Song of the Birds”)—an arrangement that Casals made when he left fascist Spain, announcing that he would not play there again until Franco and his autocratic regime were gone and democracy was restored. Casals began each of his concerts with that song from then on.

It was, as Ma reminded us, Casals’ plea for peace and democracy.  The relevance to contemporary events is, I think, readily apparent.  As Ma wrote in 2018, “music, like all of culture, helps us to understand our environment, each other, and ourselves. Culture helps us to imagine a better future. Culture helps turn 'them' into 'us.' And these things have never been more important.”

The current SLSO season is officially over but post-season events continue through June, beginning Saturday, May 11 at 7:00 pm, as George Daugherty conducts the orchestra for “Bugs Bunny at the Symphony.”

I last saw this program back in 2011 and found it to be great fun. It has since been updated to include five new ’toons. The important thing is that it still includes “What’s Opera, Doc?,” “The Rabbit of Seville,” “Corny Concerto,” “Baton Bunny,” and “Long-Haired Hare.” That, all by itself, is enough to recommend it.

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

Symphony Review: Tessa Lark comes out on top in soloist reshuffle

Two weeks ago The St. Louis Symphony Orchestra got hit with what must be every professional orchestra’s headache: the sudden cancellation of a featured soloist due to illness. What made it a full-on migraine was the fact that the soloist, violinist Nicola Benedetti, was scheduled for a two-week residency during which she would play two violin concertos written for her and first performed by her: one by James MacMillan (who also conducted the first of the two concerts) and one by Benedetti’s husband Wynton Marsalis.

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

For the February 10th and 11th concerts the SLSO elected to substitute Mendelssohn’s “Hebrides” Overture rather than engage a new soloist on such short notice. This past weekend (February 18th and 19th), with SLSO Music Director Stéphane Denève at the podium, there was both a replacement soloist—the Grammy-nominated Tessa Lark—and not one but two works for violin and orchestra: the “Poème” Op. 25 by Ernest Chausson (1855–1899) and “Tzigane” by Maurice Ravel (1875–1937).

The bad news is that we’ll have to wait until a future date to see Benedetti perform both works live with the SLSO. The good news is that Lark’s performance was stunning and that the substitutions resulted in a program entirely by French composers that was also international in scope.

Allow me to explain.

It began with the “Marche écossaise sur un théme populaire” (“Scottish march on a popular theme”) by Claude Debussy (1862–1918). Originally written for two pianos and later orchestrated by the composer, the “Marche ecossaise” was commissioned by a man Debussy believed to be a Scottish General but who was, in fact, an American diplomat. In any case, this entertaining if trifling mix of the Gallic and the Caledonian is great fun to hear, especially when preceded by a performance of the original march by local bagpipe virtuoso Chris Apps.

Chris Apps

Decked out in traditional Highland gear, complete with beret and kilt, Apps cut a striking figure as he walked on stage Sunday afternoon to deliver a rousing rendition of the tune. Hearing that tune it its original form enhanced the pleasure of listening to Debussy’s transformation of it. Starting as a march and ending with a jig, it all sounds more like Delius than Debussy—especially in the calme (meno tempo) interlude—but that made it no less enjoyable.

Things became more lyrical with the entrance of Lark for Chausson’s “Poème.” Inspired by a Turgenev novella, the Poème” is a work of otherworldly beauty, and Lark’s intensely Romantic performance perfectly captured that. The slowly dying trills that end the Poème were especially effective, as were the two cadenzas the composer provided to showcase the soloist.

Next, Lark had a chance to demonstrate her technical prowess in Ravel’s “Tzigane.” Inspired by the playing of the Hungarian-born violinist Jelly d’Arányi, “Tzigane” is an outrageously difficult piece. The slow, smoldering romanticism of the opening eventually gives way to a wildly energetic finale that will test the skill of the best violinists. Lark proved more than equal to both the intense passion of the long solo introduction and the wild, fiery finale. If you missed her performance last weekend, never fear: classical radio station WQXR has provided a YouTube video of her playing the original violin and piano version.

The second half of the program consisted of two popular orchestral blockbusters: Debussy’s sunny “Ibéria” and Ravel’s apocalyptic “La Valse.” This is music that Maestro Denève clearly knows well—he conducted both without a score—and clearly loves. I know I loved what he did with both of them and, judging from the response, so did the audience.

Tessa Lark and Stéphane Denève
Photo: Chuck Lavazzi

Although Debussy never spent more than a few hours in Spain, he nevertheless had plenty of exposure to Spanish music and dance. That, and his imagination, were all he needed to conjure up this Ivesian collage of day and night in the town of San Sebastián, just a few miles from the Spanish-French border. It’s colorful music with constantly shifting melodic and harmonic perspectives, rather like a French “New Wave” film.

That means there is a plethora of opportunities for individuals and whole sections to move in and out of sonic focus. A few examples include the languorous oboes and English horn in the second movement (“The Fragrances of the Night”), the solo by Concertmaster David Halen in the third movement (“The Morning of a Festival Day”), and the piquant sound of the strings in the first movement (“In the Streets and Byways”). Debussy subdivided the first and second violins into multiple groups here, producing an unusually complex sound.

The way the entire orchestra seems to breathe in a dreamlike state during the second movement is also impressive. The SLSO hasn’t played this music since 1997, but under Denève’s direction they performed with their accustomed precision.

This weekend's concerts concluded with Ravel's “La Valse,” a work that began in 1911 with the title “Wein” (“Vienna”). Before it could be completed, however, World War I (in which the composer served as an ambulance driver) intervened, and by the time it premiered in 1920 it had become something far more profound. Beginning in darkness at the very bottom of the orchestra, “La Valse” rises to what at first seems to be a gleaming homage to the 19th century Vienna of the Strauss family. Over the course of the next ten minutes or so, though, it becomes less joyous and more frenzied. The violent, crashing finale has always made me think of a huge, ornate machine spinning faster and faster until it hurls itself to pieces.

Denève last conducted “La Valse” with the SLSO in 2018, shortly after his appointment as Music Director. Back then I called his performance “dramatic, subtly shaded, and exceptionally effective.” It was certainly all of that Sunday afternoon, with the hushed opening (basses playing pianissimo and muted) starting in the near silence Denève achieved by holding the first downbeat until everyone had settle down and stopped coughing. From there the inexorable build to the frankly horrifying conclusion was masterfully done and beautifully played.

Denève, in his pre-concert remarks, described “La Valse” as “dancing on a volcano…which, I guess, means a lot today.” I can’t disagree. I was reminded, not for the first time, of Barbara W. Tuchman’s “The March of Folly.” Sometimes, it seems, the dance macabre can be a waltz.

Next at Powell Hall: The regular season takes a break for some “one of” concerts. Kevin McBeth conducts the orchestra, the IN UNISON Chorus, and soloist Kennedy Holmes in a “Lift Every Voice: A Black History Month Celebration” on Friday, February 24 at 7:30 pm. Brent Havens conducts the orchestra and vocalist Nick Adams in “The Music of the Rolling Stones” on Saturday the 25th at 7:30 pm. And Stephanie Childress conducts the SLSO Youth Orchestra on Sunday the 26th at 3:00 pm in “Music Without Boundaries,” an immersive 45-minute concert for children ages 5–10. Soloists include Rulin Olivia Zhang (erhu), Amir Salesevic (accordion), and the UMSL Percussion Ensemble under Matthew Henry.

The regular season resumes Friday at 7:30 pm and Saturday at 10:30 am, March 3 and 4, as Stephanie Childress conducts the orchestra in music of Haydn, Schumann, and Oswald Huỳnh.

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

Symphony Preview: French connections

“O Fortuna / velut luna / statu variabilis / semper crescis / aut decrescis” (O Fortune, / like the moon / you are changeable, / ever waxing / ever waning”). Thus opens Carl Orff’s popular “Carmina Burana,” based on the collection of 13th century Latin poems of the same name. It’s a reminder of the role sheer blind luck plays in human affairs—something too many people these days seem determined to deny.

[Preview the music with my Spotify playlist.]

The changes in the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra programs this weekend and last are a prime example. The illness of the violinist Nicola Benedetti, who was scheduled to play both programs, forced the orchestra to drop the local premieres of contemporary violin concertos by James MacMillan (last week) and Wynton Marsalis (this week).

John Meredith Read
Photo by Edward Carpenter 
Public Domain

Last weekend the SLSO elected to substitute Mendelssohn’s “Hebrides” Overture rather than engage a new soloist on such short notice. This weekend we have a replacement soloist—the Grammy-nominated Tessa Lark—and not one but two works for violin and orchestra: the “Poème” Op. 25 by Ernest Chausson (1855–1899) and “Tzigane” by Maurice Ravel (1875–1937). Add in the originally scheduled pieces by Ravel and Claude Debussy (1862–1918) and you have a program that’s all French, but with an international flair.

It all begins with a Debussy bijou that the SLSO hasn’t performed since 1925, the “Marche écossaise sur un théme populaire” (“Scottish march on a popular theme”). Originally written for two pianos, it was, As Stephen Walsh writes in Debussy, a Painter in Sound, “one of a brace of salon pieces composed in 1890 with a view, presumably, to a quick sale to a publisher, the Choudens brothers.” The march was composed on a commission from "General" Meredith Read, who wanted a setting of a march tune associated with the Ross clan, of which he claimed to be a descendant.

I say "claimed" because a little digging into history reveals that Read (not "Reid," as his name has been misspelled by nearly everyone) was neither Scottish nor an actual General—at least in the military sense. He was, in fact, J. Meredith Read (1837—1896), an American diplomat who was the former consul-general for France and Algeria. Despite having lived in Paris for years, Meredith spoke no French and so, as Marie Rolf writes in the summer-fall 2012 issue of the Musical Quarterly, "his meeting with Debussy allegedly required the translation skills of Alphonse Allais at the nearby Bar Austin." Whether Read misrepresented himself or Debussy simply misunderstood becasue of the way Read's words were translated is unknown.

In any case Read was, according to Tim Munro’s program notes, not especially happy with the result, but Debussy apparently liked it enough to create the 1908 orchestral version we’ll hear this weekend. It’s certainly a bit of an odd duck, with the Highland sounds of the march, the composer’s shimmering orchestration, and what Walsh calls “some mild whole-tonerie” all blended into a kind of Gallic/Caledonian fantasy.

Ernest Chausson ca.1897
Photo by Guy & Mockel
Public Domain

By way of contrast, Chausson’s 1896 “Poème” is purely French and lavishly Romantic. Inspired by Turgenev's 1881 novella The Song of Love Triumphant, the “Poème” originally had the same title as the book, but Chausson changed it before the piece was published, apparently to avoid associating it too closely with the novel. I think it was a wise decision; this music has a haunting beauty that doesn't need any extra-musical references.

The “Poème” has been massively popular with violinists ever since it was first performed by the great composer/violinist Eugène Ysaÿe, who commissioned the piece and may have helped with some of the details of the violin part. "When Ysaÿe introduced the Poème in Paris," writes Michael Steinberg in The Concerto: A Listener's Guide, "the applause rang on and on. Chausson's friend the novelist Camille Mauclair recalled that the bewildered composer kept repeating, 'I can't get over it.'"

Sadly, it wouldn't last; only two years after the work's 1897 premiere, Chausson died when he lost control of a bicycle and smashed into the wall of his country villa. He was only 44. Chausson is a composer whose music does not, in my view, get quite as much attention as it deserves. His Symphony in B flat (1890) is a particular favorite of mine, but live performances seem to be rare.

Jelly d’Arányi
By Unknown author,
Public Domain

Next, it’s Ravel’s 1924 high-wire act “Tzigane.”  The title is French for "gypsy," and while this fiercely difficult piece for violin and orchestra doesn't use any actual Hungarian folk tunes, it certainly conjures up the feel of that kind of music. The slow, smoldering romanticism of the opening eventually gives way to a wildly energetic finale that will test the skill of the best violinists.

Ravel was inspired to write the work after hearing the Hungarian-born violinist Jelly d’Arányi in a private performance of Ravel’s Sonata for Violin and Cello. Although she was a classically trained performer, Ravel asked her to play some “gypsy” music. She responded with what William E. Runyan calls “a dazzling informal improvisation in the Gypsy style,” and Ravel was hooked.

Tessa Lark does not appear to have recorded the “Poème,” but she did record the Ravel, albeit in its original violin and piano form rather than the orchestral version we’ll hear this time. My Spotify playlist includes both her recording as well as Nicola Benedetti’s recordings of both “Tzigane” and the “Poème.”

Debussy in 1908
en.wikipedia.org

Debussy returns in the second half of the evening with a more famous and much more substantial work: “Ibéria,” the second of his three “Images” for orchestra (the other two, “Gigues” and “Rondes de Printemps,” are heard less often). Walsh calls it “an almost cinematic stretch of musical footage, a twenty-minute travelogue that depends for its effect on the multiple layering of different colours and the rapid intercutting of quasi-visual images and slices of musical life.”

As capsule descriptions go, that’s a winner. The three short movements of “Ibéria” do, in fact, feel like the musical equivalent of the mid-20th-century school of French cinema known as “La Nouvelle Vague” (“The New Wave”) with its odd mix of realism, subjectivity, and fragmented narrative. Themes appear and  disappear, and then emerge once more in subtly altered forms, sometimes when you least expect them. For a more detailed description, allow me to recommend Michael Steinberg’s excellent program notes for the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra.

This weekend's concerts will conclude with Ravel's “La Valse,” a work that began in 1911 with the title “Wein” (“Vienna”). And, in fact, a bit of it shows up in a piece from that same year, the “Valses nobles et sentimentales.” Before it could be completed, however, World War I (in which the composer served as an ambulance driver) intervened, and by the time “La Valse” was submitted to (and foolishly rejected by) Diaghilev for the Ballets Russes in 1919, it had become something far more profound.

Maurice Ravel in 1925
en.wikipedia.org

"At the close of World War I," writes Carl E. Schorske in Fin-De-Siecle Vienna: Politics and Culture, "Maurice Ravel recorded in La valse the violent death of the nineteenth-century world. The waltz, long the symbol of gay Vienna, became in the composer's hand a frantic danse macabre.” Ravel himself, though, resisted anything that specific. “It is a dancing, whirling, almost hallucinatory ecstasy,” he said in a 1922 interview for a Dutch newspaper, “an increasingly passionate and exhausting whirlwind of dancers, who are overcome and exhilarated by nothing but ‘the waltz.’”

That said, I can't hear it without envisioning a huge, ornate machine spinning faster and faster until it hurls itself to pieces—as the complex structure of 19th-century Europe did in the so-called "war to end all wars". The piece is, needless to say, brilliantly orchestrated, and its crashing finale is thrilling—but also a bit unnerving. It reminds me of the old joke about the problem with history being that every time it repeats itself, the price goes up.

So there you have it: a program of musique très française that’s also part Scottish, Russian, Spanish, and Viennese. Now if only they had some actual French wines at the bar….

The Essentials: Stéphane Denève conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and violin soloist Tessa Lark in music by Debussy, Chausson, and Ravel Saturday at 8 pm and Sunday at 3 pm, February 18 and 19. The Saturday concert will be broadcast live on St. Louis Public Radio and Classic 107.3. There will also be a special “Crafted” happy hour performance of Debussy’s “Ibéria” and Ravel’s “La Valse” on Friday, February 17. Doors open at 5:30 pm for drink samples and snacks from local vendors, with the concert starting at 6:30.

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

Symphony Review: A mostly French St. Louis Symphony program highlights principal players

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Who: The St. Louis Symphony Orchestra conducted by David Robertson
What: Music of Bizet, Debussy, Elgar, and Ravel
Where: Powell Symphony Hall, St. Louis
When: May 1-3, 2015

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

Allegra Lilly
harpcolumn.com

This is a big weekend for the Principal and Associate Principal players in the St. Louis Symphony (and even a couple of guests). The concerts begin with an orchestral suite from Bizet's massively popular 1875 opera "Carmen" and end with Ravel's even more massively popular "Bolero"—both works packed with solos for individual instruments.

In between are pieces that feature SLSO musicians not often seen in the solo spot: Principal Harp Allegra Lilly in Debussy's 1904 "Danses sacrée et profane" ("Sacred and Profane Dances") for harp and strings, and Principal Tuba Michael Sanders in Vaughan Williams' 1954 "Tuba Concerto in F minor."

For people like me who enjoy seeing members of the band step forward and strut their stuff, it's all very gratifying.

The "Carmen" selections consist of eleven of the twelve sections of the two suites that Bizet's friend and fellow composer Ernest Guiraud put together in the 1880s. Bizet never heard them—he died shortly after "Carmen" opened to tepid reviews and public apathy in 1875—but I think he would have appreciated the way his colleague reassigned the original vocal lines to a wide range of individual instruments. The trumpet, in particular, carries a lot of the weight, with prominent roles in the "Habañera," "Seguedille," "La Garde montante," and most notably, the famous (and often parodied) "Chanson du Toréador."

Mr. Robertson's rearrangement of the order of the selections made me hear this music in a very different way. Having the brisk march of "Les Toréadors" segue immediately into the ominous Act I "Prelude," for example, created a nice bit of dramatic contrast. Ditto putting the delicate "Intermezzo," with its lovely duet for harp and flute, in between the "Chanson du Toréador" and the lively "Danse bohème." His interpretation brought out all the drama and high spirits of the opera, ending with a "Danse bohème" that burned up the stage.

A few fluffs here and there not withstanding, the musicians with the solo spots performed brilliantly. Principal Trumpet Karin Bliznik had the most to do, of course, but there were also terrific moments from Principal Flute Mark Sparks, Principal Oboe Jelena Dirks, Associate Principal Bassoon Andy Gott along with fellow bassoonist Felicia Foland, Principal Piccolo Ann Choomack along with second piccolo Jennifer Nichtman (doubling on flute), harpist Megan Stout, and Concertmaster David Halen. Mr. Halen's solo in the "Nocturne" starts at the bottom of the violin's range, and brought a dark, silky tone to it.

As the second half of the concert began, Allegra Lilly made a strong impression before she even played a note, gliding onstage in a iridescent blue spaghetti strap gown that was as lovely and elegant as her playing—and that's saying something. Soloists sometimes get lost in the fog of Powell Hall's acoustics, especially for those of us in the Dress Circle, but Ms. Lilliy's harp came through rich and clear, its full-bodied sound assisted by a resonating platform and Debussy's intelligent orchestration, which never allows the string ensemble to overcome the soloist. She and Mr. Robertson gave the music a graceful and sensitive treatment that emphasized the shimmering, shifting colors of this music. I know Debussy disliked the term "impressionism," but for works like this it feels quelle apropos nevertheless.

Michael Sanders
stlsymphony.org

The Vaughan Williams tuba concerto was next, and you couldn't have asked for a more marked contrast from the Debussy. It's a consistently ingratiating and playful piece, with a strong English folk flavor. The composer wrote it with (and for) London Symphony Orchestra Principal Tuba Philip Catelinet—who must have been quite the virtuoso, judging from the difficulty of the solo part. The first and third movement cadenzas, in particular, exploit the instrument's full range, including those growling bottom notes.

Soloist Michael Sanders did very well by the piece Friday morning, dancing with ease through those cadenzas and the rapid passages that begin the final movement. He had an appealingly full, mellow sound at the upper end of his range (which is where most of the part lies), running into difficulty only in those growling bottom tones. As a former low brass guy myself (trombone, euphonium and, yes, Sousaphone) I sympathize.

The concert came to a slam-bang tang of a finish with Ravel’s ever-popular “Bolero.”

What can one say about "Bolero" that hasn't already been said a thousand times? Ravel himself apparently began to view it in somewhat the same way that Rachmaninoff came to view his equally popular “Prelude in C sharp minor”: as a career milestone that eventually became a millstone. At least Ravel wasn’t obliged to perform it everywhere he went. It is, in any case, music that never fails to entertain—and it certainly did on Friday morning.

The individual solos were impeccable, featuring most of the same players from the Bizet. Notable performances were also turned in by Principal Bassoon Andrew Cuneo and Principal Clarinet Scott Andrews, assisted by Associate Principal Diana Haskell on E-flat clarinet and Tzuying Huang on the rarely-heard bass clarinet. Guests Nathan Nabb and Jeffrey Collins on soprano and tenor sax, respectively, brought a bit of a jazzy feel to their solos, as did Principal Trombone Timothy Myers.

Performances of "Bolero" inevitably remind me of Garrison Keillor's joke that the worst pumpkin pie you'll ever eat isn't that much different from the best pumpkin pie you'll ever eat. It's hard to screw this music up as long as the orchestra's technique is solid. That said, there's no gainsaying that Mr. Robertson brought real visceral excitement to this old warhorse and sent us all home with smiles on our faces. And for that, we were all thankful.

This weekend's program repeats Friday and Saturday (May 1 and 2) at 8:00 p.m. and Sunday at 3 p.m. The Saturday evening concert will be broadcast live on St. Louis Public Radio.

Next at Powell Hall: Mr. Robertson conducts the orchestra, chorus and an international roster of soloists in a complete concert performance of Verdi's beloved potboiler "Aida," including special lighting and video design by S. Katy Tucker. Performances are Thursday and Saturday at 8 p.m. and Sunday at 3 p.m., May 7, 9 and 10. Friday night, May 8, at 8 p.m. Mr. Robertson conducts the last of the Whitaker Foundation "Music You Know" programs, with popular classics by (among others) Copland, Elgar, Bizet, Liszt, Vaughan Williams, and Charles Ives. For information on all concerts: stlsymphony.org.

Symphony Preview: The (mostly) French connection with the St. Louis Symphony, May 1-3, 2015

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To close out the current season, the St. Louis Symphony has put together three blockbuster concerts of music sure to appeal to just about anyone who loves the classics. It starts this weekend as David Robertson conducts works by Bizet, Debussy, Vaughan Williams, and Ravel.

Georges Bizet in 1875
en.wikipedia.org

Opening the concerts will be eleven orchestral selections culled from the two suites Ernest Guiraud put together in the 1880s from his friend Georges Bizet's massively popular 1875 opera "Carmen." Poor Bizet died before he could hear them, alas—he passed at the age of 36 from a heart attack a few months after the opera opened to tepid reviews and public apathy. So he went to his grave not knowing that he had composed what would become one of the most popular operas ever written. Operabase statistics for the 2013/2014 season, in fact, show it as number 2 worldwide, surpassed only by Verdi's "La Traviata."

For this weekend's concerts, Mr. Robertson has taken the two suites, reshuffled them, and dropped the "Marche des Contrebandiers" ("March of the Smugglers") from Bizet's Act III. The new re-arranged suite looks like this:

1. Les Toréadors: "Procession of the Toreadors" from Act IV.
2. Prélude: Includes the "Fate" motif first heard from the brasses at the beginning of Act I.
3. Habañera: Carmen's famous Act I aria, "L'amour est un oiseau rebelle" ("Love is a rebellious bird").
4. Seguedille: The Seguidilla from Act I, "Près des remparts de Séville" ("Near the ramparts of Seville"), in which Carmen invites the hapless Don Jose to run away with her to Lilas Pastia's Inn (a decision he will come to regret).
5. Les Dragons d’Alcala: the entr'acte between Bizet's Acts I and II, covering the scene change from the Act I cigarette factory to Pastia's Inn.
6. La Garde montante: Back to Act I, as Don Jose marches in with the soldiers, who are greeted and the imitated by a crowd of street urchins singing "Avec la garde montante, nous arrivons, nous voilà! / Sonne trompette éclatante!" ("With the mounting guard, we arrive; here we are! / Sound, dazzling trumpet!").
7. Aragonaise: The entr'acte between Bizet's Acts III and IV, giving the stage hands time to change the scene from the smuggler's mountain hideout to the bullring.
8. Nocturne: Back to Act III as Don Jose's loyal but naïve girlfriend Micaéla arrives at the smuggler's camp in a futile attempt to get him to return to the army. "Je dis, que rien ne m'épouvante," she sings ("I say, that nothing terrifies me"); "je dis, hélas, que je réponds de moi, / j'ai beau faire la vaillante / mais j'ai beau faire la vaillante / au fond du coeur, je meurs d'effroi!" (I say, alas, that I take care of myself, / But try as I might to be the brave "girl, / At the bottom of my heart, I'm dying of fright!")
9. Intermezzo: The entr'acte between Acts II and III, for the scene change from Pastia's Inn to the smuggler's camp.
10. Chanson du Toréador: The famous "Toréador song" from Act IV. 'Nuff said!
11. Danse bohème: From the top of Act II, as Carmen and her friends Frasquita and Mercédès dance for some army officers in Pastia's Inn; a certified rouser and an ideal Big Finish.

Debussy in 1908
en.wikipedia.org

Music from another famous Frenchman is next: Debussy's "Danses sacrée et profane" ("Sacred and Profane Dances") for harp and strings. The famed French instrument makers Pleyel and Wolff commissioned the piece in 1904 as part of a marketing effort for their latest invention, the chromatic harp. Unlike the conventional pedal harp, which was then (and still is) the concert standard, the chromatic harp had two sets of strings, one tuned to C major and the other tuned to F-sharp/G-flat pentatonic. Unlike a conventional harp, this allowed the player to produce all twelve of the notes in a chromatic scale.

The instrument was not a success. As Daniel Durchholz writes in his program notes, the instrument "turned out to be too cumbersome in a variety of ways. It was hard to tune and keep in tune, difficult to play, and simply not as resonant as a standard harp. Without much fanfare, it was quickly abandoned." Fortunately, the music was easily adapted to the conventional pedal harp and has proved enduringly popular.

Which makes it a bit surprising that the SLSO has only performed it twice—on October 10th and 21s, 1981, with Frances Tietov at the harp and Leonard Slatkin on the podium for both performances. That interpretation was, happily, preserved on by Telarc on a CD that also contains "La Mer" and "Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune." It's still in print and definitely worth having. This time around the solo role goes to SLSO Principal Harp Allegra Lilly, whose work has graced the Powell Hall stage since 2013.

FYI, the word "profane," in this context, means "secular" or "sensual," to indicate that the second of the two dances is less serious than the first.

Michael Sanders
stlsymphony.org

After intermission, an instrument that rarely gets the solo spot will be front and center: the tuba. Specifically, it will be an F tuba (as opposed to the bigger and deeper B-flat tuba more commonly heard in orchestras) played by SLSO Principal Tuba Michael Sanders. He'll be playing the "Tuba Concerto in F minor" that Ralph Vaughan Williams wrote in 1954 with (and for) London Symphony Orchestra Principal Tuba Philip Catelinet. Catelinet premiered the concerto at the LSO Golden Jubilee Concert in June of 1954, and while it has never been wildly popular—the only previous SLSO performance was in September of 1987—that's probably more a reflection of the dearth of great tuba players than any knock on the music itself. It's consistently ingratiating and playful with a strong English folk flavor. And it will be nice to see Mr. Sanders in front of the orchestra for a change.

The concerts close with one of the most popular orchestral works ever written and certainly the best-known thing Maurice Ravel ever wrote: "Bolero." Composed originally on commission for the dancer Ida Rubinstein, "Bolero" was first performed by her at the Paris Opéra on 22 November 1928, with choreography by Bronislava Nijinska and designs by Alexandre Benois.

Not mentioned for two whole paragraphs
officialboderek.com

"Inside a tavern in Spain," runs the scenario printed in that first program, "people dance beneath the brass lamp hung from the ceiling. [In response] to the cheers to join in, the female dancer has leapt onto the long table and her steps become more and more animated." In program notes for the New York Philharmonic, the late New York Times music critic Louis Biancolli goes into greater detail. "The men gathered in the public room of the inn eye the dancer fixedly. As her movements grow more animated, their excitement mounts. They beat out an obbligato with their hands and pound their heels. At the peak of the crescendo, where the key abruptly shifts from C major to E major, the sharpening tension snaps. Knives are drawn and there is a wild tavern brawl."

Sounds like a hell of a party. There will be no weapons at Powell Hall this weekend, fortunately, so you will be able to enjoy Ravel's Greatest Hit in safety.

And you will notice I got through two entire paragraphs on "Bolero" without once mentioning Bo Derek.

The Essentials: David Robertson conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra with harpist Allegra Lilly and tuba player Michael Sanders on Friday at 10:30 a.m. and 8 p.m., Saturday at 8 p.m., and Sunday at 3 p.m., May1-3. The concerts take place at Powell Symphony Hall, 718 North Grand in Grand Center. For more information: stlsymphony.org.

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.

A snowbound symphony

As I sat here contemplating snowpocalypse 2014, I started putting together a mental list of classical works that would make for appropriate listening for the snowbound.  I don't claim that this is exhaustive—it's just what I was able to come up with off the top of my head—but it does look nicely balanced to me.  Feel free to leave a comment with your own suggestions.

[ADDED 22 December 2022] Don't have all these handy? Never fear: here's a free Spotify playlist.

The list is in alphabetical order by composer.

Leroy Anderson

Leroy Anderson: Sleigh Ride – This cheerful orchestral depiction of a sleigh ride—complete with whip cracks and a derisive whinny from the horse performed by solo trumpet at the end—is probably the best-known piece in the list.  Ironically, Anderson got the idea during a heat wave in 1946. It was published in 1948, first recorded by Arthur Fielder and the Boston Pops in 1949, and had lyrics grafted on to it in 1950 by Mitchell Parish.  Anderson's own recording (on Decca) hit the Cashbox best sellers chart in 1950.

Debussy: Des pas sur la neige (Footprints in the Snow) – There's a wintry solitude to this music, with its fragmented melody and suggestion of a slow procession through the landscape.  It's from the composer's first book of "Preludes" from 1910.

Debussy: The Snow is Dancing – At the other end of the spectrum is this fanciful miniature from the "Children's Corner Suite" from 1908.  Unlike most of Debussy's music, the titles are all in English—probably a nod to the English governess of Debussy's daughter Claude-Emma, to whom the suite is dedicated.  The music wasn't meant to be performed by children—some of it is pretty challenging—but rather to reflect the world of childhood.

Frederick Delius

Frederick Delius: Sleigh Ride – Written at the request of the great Norwegian musical miniaturist Edvard Grieg for an 1887 Christmas party, this piece was orchestrated by Delius in 1890 and prefaced with this description: "On Christmas Even I stood in the open air.  The moon shone bright over a billowing landscape.  The sound of an approaching sleigh was heard from a distance, but it soon rushed by and disappeared.  And then gradually it was once more still and bright and peaceful."  The opening with sleigh bells and a perky melody on the flute is really pretty irresistible.

Liszt: Transcendental Etude No. 12, Chasse-neige (Snow storm) – Liszt's twelve "Transcendental Etudes" (Études d'exécution transcendante) are the Mt. Everest of piano music.  Originally published in 1837, the pieces were revised to make them less absurdly difficult to play in 1852, but even so they present technical challenges that separate the virtuosi from the run of the mill players.  This musical storm begins softly and relentlessly builds to a massive blizzard of notes.

Leopold Mozart: A Musical Sleigh Ride – We don't think much about Wolfgang Mozart's dad these days, but he had a fairly substantial career as a musician and composer.  Many of his works have been lost over the centuries but a few—like this charming miniature and his "Cassation in G for Orchestra and Toys" (a.k.a. the "Toy Symphony")—are still performed now and then.  Leopold Mozart loved using non-traditional sounds in his pieces, including bagpipes, whistles, and even (in anticipation of Spike Jones) pistol shots.

Wolfgang Mozart: German Dance No. 3, K. 605 (Sleigh Ride) – The younger Mozart's sleigh ride is a lilting dance in three-quarter time complete with tuned sleigh bells and an ingratiating posthorn solo.

A scene from Lieutenant Kijé

Prokofiev: Troika – This depiction of a ride in a traditional Russian three-horse sleigh comes from music written for the satirical 1933 film "Lieutenant Kijé," about a non-existent soldier created by a clerical error and kept "alive" by bureaucrats afraid of the Czar's wrath, should the mistake be discovered.  It's easily the most popular piece from the score and has been appropriated by a number of rock/pop stars including Greg Lake ("I Believe in Father Christmas") and Helen Love ("Happiest Time of the Year").

Strauss: An Alpine Symphony – Completed in 1915, this mammoth tone poem (it runs close to an hour) depicts and Alpine ascent and descent, complete with a trek across a glacier and a thunderstorm.  Strauss loved the mountains.  He built a villa for himself in the Bavarian Alps and often vacationed in Alpine regions.  That affection clearly shows in this music.

Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 1 ("Winter Dreams") – First performed in 1868, Tchaikovsky's first attempt at a symphony had a rough time being born.  It took nearly a year to compose and received a fair amount of unflattering criticism along the composer's former teachers.  The structure is a bit clunky in places, but the first movement (subtitled "Dreams of a Winter Journey") is so powerfully evocative of a haunted journey through a frigid landscape that I, for one, am inclined to overlook the work's flaws.

Artists of The Royal Ballet in The Nutcracker
Photograph © ROH/Johan Persson

Tchaikovsky: Waltz of the Snowflakes – This final number from the first act of the "Nutcracker" ballet also depicts a wintry sojourn, but a much cheerier one than the "Winter Dreams" symphony.  The Nutcracker Prince has just defeated the Mouse King and, as a snowstorm rises, he and Clara are transported to the Kingdom of Sweets.  The addition of a wordless children's chorus in the final bars adds a lovely touch of whimsy.

Ralph Vaughan Williams: Sinfonia Antartica (Symphony No. 7) – Adapted from the music Vaughan Williams wrote for the 1947 film “Scott of the Antarctic,” the “Sinfonia Antartica” is pure symphonic wind chill.  Its five movements leave an indelible impression of the forbidding landscape and tragic end of Scott’s ill-fated expedition.  In the score, each movement is preceded by a literary quotation.  Vaughan Williams didn’t explicitly say that they should be read as part of the performance, but when they are (as in the Andre Previn/London Symphony recording from many years ago) the theatrical effect can’t be denied.

Vivaldi: Winter (from "The Four Seasons") – This is easily one of the most vivid bits of tone painting you'll find anywhere, with snowstorms, icy winds, and quiet evenings by the first all colorfully captured.

That's my quick list.  I limited myself to orchestral pieces, so Schubert's 1828 "Winterreise"  ("Winter Journey") song cycle has been left out in the cold, so to speak, along with (probably) many others.  I also rejected Arnold Bax's "November Woods" on the premise that he was thinking more autumnal than wintry.  What would you add to the list?  Let me know.