Symphony Review: The SLSO honors musical nomads in the season opener

“A wandering minstrel I,” sings Nanki-Poo as he introduces himself in “The Mikado”; “A thing of shreds and patches.”

You wouldn’t call the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra “a thing of shreds and patches,” but with Music Director Stéphane Denève at the podium for the opening concert of the season last Sunday they were certainly doing some musical wandering. Certainly the first half of the program paid considerable homage to those famous wanderers, the Roma, with concert standards inspired by Hungarian folk tunes and the “Nomad Concerto” by Mason Bates.

Stéphane Denève
Photo: Dilip Vishwanat

Which is rather appropriate for an orchestra that will continue to lead a nomadic existence until the renovation of Powell Hall is completed next fall.

Things got off to an energetic start with a rousing performance of the “Rákóczi March”, a.k.a. the “Marche hongroise” from Part I of  the 1846 opera/oratorio hybrid “La damnation de Faust” (“The Damnation of Faust”) by Hector Berlioz (1803–1869). It’s the sort of orchestral showpiece that never fails to get an enthusiastic response—which it did.

Up next was another favorite, a set of the “Hungarian Dances by Johannes Brahms (1833–1897). Originally composed for piano duet and published in four sets between 1869 and 1880, the dances were orchestrated by various composers, including Brahms. Denève selected the three that the composer orchestrated (Nos. 1, 3, and 10) and played them attacca—i.e., without pause.

It was a smart choice, highlighting the contrast between the energetic first and tenth dances (marked Allegro molto and Presto, respectively) and the more introspective third (Allegretto). The result was a kind of “mini suite” that showed off both the composer’s orchestration and the virtuosity of the band. I was very taken with the flutes (including Ebonee Thomas, who seemed to be holding down the currently vacant Principal position for this concert) in the Dance No. 1, and the playful oboes and bassoons (under Associate Principals Phil Ross and Andy Gott, respectively) were a delight in Dance No. 3.  

Denève gave the dances the “full Roma” treatment, with just the right touches of rubato evoking the music’s folk origins.

The first half concluded with the “Nomad Concerto” by Mason Bates (b. 1977), composed for and premiered in January 2024 by this weekend’s soloist, violinist Gil Shaham. “Envisioned to showcase the legendary Old World sound of Gil Shaham,” writes Bates at his web site, “the concerto is informed by a diverse range of traveling cultures from Eastern Europe to the Middle East.”

Gil Shaham
Photo: Chris Lee

Running just under 30 minutes, the four-movement concerto is, as promised, an ideal virtuoso vehicle for Shaham. The last time I saw him with SLSO in January 2017 I praised his singing tone and the obvious joy of his playing. That’s still true, but this time I was also impressed by the versatility he displayed in delivering the wide range of sounds Bates has written for him. In the first movement (“Song of the balloon man”) his was wistfully Chaplinesque. He and the orchestra exchanged rapid-fire motifs in the brief “Magician at the bazaar” in a way that summoned up visions of flash paper going off all over the string section.  The third movement (“Desert vision: oasis) used the orchestra’s lower voices to suggest an arid expanse of wilderness, with the violin offering brief relief in the form of a yearning  version of the Jewish folk tune “Ani Ma’amin” (“I believe”).

Shaham and the band really cut loose, though, in the concluding movement, “Le jazz manouche.” Inspired by the sound of the legendary 1930s–1940s jazz combo Quintette du Hot Club de France—especially guitarist Django Reinhardt and violinist Stéphane Grappelli—the score has the soloist and orchestra trading licks the way an actual combo would. Shaham and the first violins seemed to be having an especially good time playing off each other here. Will James on jazz percussion and Peter Henderson on piano added considerably to the period atmosphere.

As much as I loved Shaham’s performance, though, I found it difficult to become involved with Bates’s score.  It felt more like a quasi-Impressionist collection of motifs that suggested but never really achieved the status of themes. It reminded me a bit of Debussy, except without the melodies and harmonic infrastructure.

The concert concluded with the Big Event, Berlioz’s splendiferous 1830 “Symphonie Fantastique.” Denève and the orchestra played this wildly hallucinatory work (Leonard Bernstein once dubbed it "the first psychedelic symphony in history”) back in 2019, as the closer of his last concert as Music Director Designate (he became the official MD that fall). At the time I described Denève’s interpretation as consistently engrossing, filled with interesting details (something that would prove to be a hallmark of his work on the podium) and concluding with a downright hair-raising final two movements. I’m repeating myself here because all of that still applies to what we experienced last Sunday.

The St. Louis Symphony Orchestra season continues October 4th and 6th at the Touhill Performing Arts Center; check out my preview for more information or head over to the SLSO web site.

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

Symphony Review: A spectacular "Damnation of Faust" caps the SLSO season

This past Friday and Saturday (May 5 and 6), Music Director Stéphane Denève and the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra (SLSO) closed out the season with the 1846 opera/oratorio hybrid “La damnation de Faust” (“The Damnation of Faust”) by Hector Berlioz (1803–1869).

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

Curtain calls for "Damnation of Faust"

Originally planned for March 2020, this Romantic blockbuster was cancelled due to SARS-Cov-2. It was worth the wait. Friday night’s performance sent Faust to hell while sending the audience to paradise with a combination of power, precision, and sheer sonic overload. The massive orchestra (around 85 by my count), adult chorus, children’s chorus, and four soloists filled the Powell Hall stage as well as the aisle between the stage and first row of seats. There were offstage instrumentalists and even a quintet from the St. Children’s Choirs in the dress circle singing the roles of heavenly spirits.

Berlioz, lover of grand gestures that he was, would surely have adored this performance. Everyone in our party certainly did, along with the rest of the large crowd.

Michael Spyres
Photo courtesy SLSO

After the encomiums I bestowed on the SLSO for “Le sacre du Printemps” last week, my well of superlatives might be running dry. Even so, I need to draw from it once again if I am to adequately describe the sheer magnificence of what we saw last Friday.

Let’s start with the orchestra, which once again, displayed their mastery of a score that the SLSO has not performed in over 24 years—not surprising, given the massive personnel demands. Bold, rich strings, powerful brass and percussion, heavenly woodwinds—the SLSO musicians delivered it all throughout the work’s more than two-and-a-half hour length (nearly three hours if you include intermission)..

The Brobdingnagian scope of the thing didn’t mean there weren’t exquisite solo and small ensemble moments, however. The ones that stood out in my mind included Principal Viola Beth Guterman Chu’s duet with soprano Isabel Leonard’s Marguerite in the “King of Thule” song, Cally Banham’s romantic English horn solo in Scene XV as Marguerite longs for the return of the fickle Faust, the flutes and piccolos chirping merrily along the Elbe in the bucolic Scene VII, and the trio of piccolos “gaily tripping, lightly skipping” in the “Minuet of the Wills-o’-the-Wisp” in Scene XII.

Isabel Leonard
Photo courtesy SLSO

Speaking of soloists, the four singers were equally impressive in their own right. Three of the four singers were the same ones originally engaged for the 2020 performance and all four were completely on point musically, with clear and powerful voices. I didn’t find the acting of all four equally convincing but that feels like a minor quibble overall.

Michael Spyres was the very image of a tormented and narcissistic Faust, lamenting his lost youth and seemingly afflicted by a serious case of anhedonia. The character’s relentless self-indulgence—possibly a mirror of the composer’s own—could be tiresome in the hands of a singer less fully engaged with the text, but Spyres made him sympathetic. Faust’s heedless self-destruction works dramatically only if there is some sense of a tragic fall. Spyres gave us that fall and did so in a voice of truly impressive range. The program lists Spyres as a tenor and Faust is, in fact, a tenor role. But Spyres himself identifies as a “baritenor”—a tenor with powerful lower octave. That gave his character an impressive sense of vocal weight.

Bass John Relyea’s Méphistophélès was a perfect personification of evil. Cynical, callous, filled with sadistic glee at the damage he’s causing, this Méphistophélès was as fascinating as he was repugnant. A veteran of the operatic stage, Relyea’s resume includes classic villains like Sparafucile in “Rigoletto” and the Grand Inquisitor in “Don Carlos” as well as Méphistophélès, so it’s no surprise that his performance was a fine mix of stentorian singing and sneering malevolence.

John Relyea
Photo courtesy SLSO

Soprano Isabel Leonard was Marguerite, the painfully naïve target of Faust’s lust. Leonard sang with passion and conviction, but seemed to connect with the audience and her character only intermittently, spending most of her time looking at the score. When she shifted her focus from the score to the audience and the role—as she did in the “Romance” in Scene XV and the “King of Thule” song in Scene XI—her Marguerite became positively radiant.

Bass Patrick Guetti’s cameo as the drunken student Brander was the evening’s surprise scene stealer. A replacement for 2020’s Anthony Clark Evans, Guetti was the epitome of swaggering irreverence, gleefully singing of a rat whose high life in the kitchen comes to an abrupt end. His was the most fully theatrical performance of the evening and a clear audience favorite.

Let us now praise the SLSO Chorus (under guest director Patrick Dupré Quigley) and the SLSO Children’s Choirs (led by artistic director Barbara Berner). “The Damnation of Faust” relies heavily on the adult chorus. The adults appear in the majority of the scenes, playing everything from dancing peasants to raucous demons singing in an invented “satanic” language that reads like a mix of French, German, and Medieval English. The children are added in the final scene portraying esprits célestes welcoming Marguerite to le ciel. The singing of both groups was consistently clear, potent, and dramatically varied. Whoever finally succeeds Amy Kaiser (who retired at the end of the last season) will find themselves leading as fine a collection of choristers as you will find anywhere.

Patrick Guetti
Photo courtesy SLSO

At the helm of this musical and dramatic spectacle, Maestro Denève displayed his characteristic ability to clarify the most intimate of musical moments while delivering a massive emotional wallop when the Berlioz calls for it. The final two scenes, with their contrast between the wild excesses of hell and the otherworldly serenity of heaven, were in many ways a distillation of everything that was so outstanding about this performance.

To paraphrase a line from “Porgy and Bess,” it took a long pull to get there but we finally anchored in the Promised Land.

Next at Powell Hall: Damon Gupton conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra in the Ludwig Göransson soundtrack for “Marvel Studio’s Black Panther” to accompany a showing of the film on the big screen. Performances are Friday at 7 pm and Saturday at 2 and 7 pm, May 12 and 13. On Sunday, May 14 at 3 pm Stephanie Childress conducts the SLSO Youth Orchestra in their season finale with music of Wagner, Debussy, and Dvořák. After that, Powell closes down for two years for extensive renovation and expansion. Post-season events continue at the Stifel Theatre downtown, which is also where many of next season’s concerts will take place.

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

Symphony Preview: The devil made me do it

The one and only work on the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra (SLSO) program this weekend (May 5 and 6) was described by Maestro Stéphane Denève in a 2019 interview as "almost psychedelic. It's extremely evocative and it's so powerful and it's very difficult." That remarkable work is the unusual (if not unique) 1846 opera/oratorio hybrid "The Damnation of Faust" ("La damnation de Faust"), by Hector Berlioz.

[Preview the music with the SLSO's Spotify playlist.]

Originally planned for March, 2020, the performance of this Romantic blockbuster was cancelled around 48 hours in advance, along with the rest of the SLSO season, because of the dramatic rise in COVID-19 infections. Now, finally, we'll get to see it—and with the same singers we would have heard three years ago.

Berlioz in 1832
Painting by Émile Signol

If you're the sort of person who reads these previews and attends the symphony on even an occasional basis, you probably don't need me to tell you who Faust was. The legend of the elderly scholar who sells his soul to Mephistopheles in return for youth, vitality, and greater knowledge goes back at least as far as the late 16th century. It might have even been inspired by an actual early 16th-century alchemist named Johann Georg Faust. I say "might" because at this chronological distance, legend and history start to merge, like far-away objects on the highway.

What intrigued Berlioz, in any case, was neither history nor legend but rather Goethe's 1808 two-part "Faust: A Tragedy" in an 1827 French translation by Gerard de Nerval. In his "Memoirs," Berlioz wrote that "this marvellous book [sic] fascinated me from the first. I could not put it down. I read it incessantly, at meals, in the theatre, in the street" (although not, one hopes, at busy intersections).

Berlioz was not alone in his fascination with the Faust legend in general and Goethe's version in particular. Romantic-era composers could not get enough of it, and the list of concert and operatic works based on it reads like a veritable "murderers' row" of the greats and near-greats of the 19th and early 20th centuries: Gounod, Liszt, Schumann, Verdi, Wagner, Sarasate, Mahler—you name it, they did it.

The depth of Berlioz's obsession can be seen in the fact that his Op. 1 (that is, his first published work) was "Huit scènes de Faust" ("Eight Scenes from Faust")—a work Berlioz later found so unsatisfactory that he collected as many copies as he could find and burned them. It was, however, a futile gesture, since it had already been published. If you're curious as to what it sounds like, there's a recording by the Orchestre Symphonique de Montréal under Charles Dutoit on Spotify. The composer would later incorporate this material into "Damnation."

One aspect of the Faust story seems to have had a particular fascination for Berlioz: Faust's pursuit/stalking of Marguerite, his seduction and abandonment of her, and his eventual damnation as a result. To some extent, that might have been simply part of the hothouse atmosphere of Romanticism, but it's also a bit reminiscent of the composer's real-life stalking of British Shakespearean actress Harriet Smithson nearly two decades earlier. That resulted in the creation of the "Symphonie Fantastique," followed by a disastrous marriage that left Smithson's life and finances in ruins. The fact that the marriage ended just a few years before the premiere of "The Damnation of Faust" can't really be seen as coincidence, in my view.

The arguably sordid sources of its inspiration not withstanding, "The Damnation of Faust" is a gripping mashup of symphony, oratorio, and opera. It calls for a huge orchestra—around 100 players will be on the Powell Hall stage—and makes sometimes extreme demands on the musicians. Add in the adult chorus, the children's chorus, and the soloists, and you have forces that are massive even by Berlioz standards.

Berlioz originally called it an "opéra de concert" but finally settled on the designation "légende dramatique," and while it has occasionally been staged, it's mostly heard in a concert setting, as it will be this weekend. It is, in any case, a reminder that for Berlioz, as Hugh MacDonald writes in Grove Online, "there existed rigid categories of neither form nor medium. Opera, cantata, song, and symphony all merge imperceptibly one into another and overlap constantly. The important criterion is the matching of means to expressive ends."

Ultimately, "The Damnation of Faust" is a masterful piece of musical storytelling that requires little introduction. That said, if you want to familiarize yourself with the work in advance, there are plenty of resources on line. Mr. Munro's notes have a detailed summary of the story and there's a complete live, semi-staged performance on YouTube conducted by Jonas Kaufmann with José van Dam as Faust. Thanks to the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, there's even a downloadable version of the original French text with a line-by-line English translation. And, of course, there's the 2019 recording by Sir Simon Rattle and the London Symphony Orchestra on the SLSOs Spotify playlist.

You won't need a printed translation at Powell Hall this weekend, of course, because the translation will be projected on a screen above the stage.

The SLSO Chorus
Photo courtesy of the SLSO

Maestro Denève assembled an all-star cast for "The Damnation of Faust". The title role will be sung by American-born tenor Michael Spyres, who has recorded the part with the Strasbourg Philharmonic under John Nelson. Marguerite, the object of his lust, will be mezzo Isabel Leonard, who sang Ravel's "Shéhérazade" with the New York Philharmonic just before the pandemic shutdown. She has performed at the Metropolitan Opera and also on "Sesame Street."

Bass John Relya will be the cynically sinister Méphistophélès. A veteran of the opera stage and recital hall, the list of conductors he has worked with reads like a current "who's who" of international luminaries. The head shot on his web page even looks a bit wicked.

Completing the cast is baritone Anthony Clark Evans in the cameo role Brander, a student who sings a somewhat crass song in Scene 6 about a rat whose high life in the kitchen comes to an abrupt end:

Certain rat, dans une cuisine
Etabli, comme un vrai frater,
S'y traitait si bien que sa mine
Eût fait envie au gros Luther.
Mais un beau jour le pauvre diable,
Empoisonné sauta dehors
Aussi triste, aussi misérable
Que s'il eût eu l'amour au corps.

Which roughly translates as:

A rat once in a kitchen
Set itself up like a real monk,
And did itself so well that the sight of it
Would have moved the fat Luther to envy.
But one fine day the poor devil,
Ate poison, and leaped out
Just as wretched and frantic
As if it had been [in] heat.

This motivates Méphistophélès to reply with one of the more famous numbers from "Damnation," " Une puce gentille" ("A charming flea"), about a flea who rises above his station with rather more success than the poor rat.

But I digress.

The Essentials: Stéphane Denève conducts The St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and Chorus Children's Choirs, and vocal soloists on Friday at 7:30 pm and Saturday at 8 pm, May 5 and 6, in "The Damnation of Faust." It should run around two hours and fifteen minutes, plus intermission. Performances take place at Powell Symphony Hall in Grand Center. The Saturday performance will be broadcast live on St. Louis Public Radio and Classic 107.3.

This will be the last live performance in Powell Hall until after extensive expansion and renovation is completed in 2025. Meanwhile the SLSO's 2023/2024 season will take place at multiple venues in St. Louis.

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

All the hits, all the time

Steven Jarvi

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The St. Louis Symphony's regular subscription season ended a month ago with a bang-up performance of Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 5 the weekend of May 9th. But they've got a final encore concert for you this Saturday.

In fact, it's kind of a meta-concert in that it's an encore program consisting of works often played as encores or (in at least one case) curtain raisers. They're calling it "Bravo! An Evening of Classical Favorites." And so it is.

Here's what's on the program, along with a few brief comments from me.

Berlioz: Roman Carnival Overture, op. 9 - This was actually an attempt by Berlioz to salvage something from his failed 1838 opera Benvenuto Cellini. It includes some themes from the opera's carnival scene, hence the title. Considered radical in its time and technically challenging, the opera has rarely been performed.

Faure: Pavane, op. 50 – Originally an 1887 solo piano piece, the Pavane was later orchestrated Faure for a small ensemble with optional chorus. There's no chorus listed on the program, so presumably you'll get the orchestral version. Faure thought this haunting and stately little piece "elegant, but not otherwise important." It turned out to be one of his biggest hits.

Morton Gould

Gould: "Pavanne" from American Symphonette No. 2 – American composer Morton Gould's "Pavanne" couldn't be more different from Faure's if it tried. It's jazzy and jaunty—very much in keeping with the overall mood of the American Symphonette No. 2, which Gould wrote for radio in 1939.

Grieg: "In the Hall of the Mountain King" from Peer Gynt – This five-act epic verse drama by Henrik Ibsen is (unlike many of the great Norwegian dramatist's other plays) rarely seen outside of his native land. The music Grieg wrote for the premiere production, though, has proved immensely popular. There's an optional choral part for this piece as well.

Dvorák: Selections from Slavonic Dances, op. 46 – Dvorák wrote two sets of Slavonic Dances (Op. 46 in 1878 and Op. 72 in 1886) as pieces for two pianos. They were so popular he was obliged to orchestrate them—and those versions proved even more popular. Every one of these works is a little orchestral gem, representing a different type Czech dance.

Open-air performance of The Bartered Bride
at Zoppot Waldoper, Danzig

Smetana: "Dance of the Comedians" from The Bartered Bride – Smetana's 1863 comic opera had a rocky beginning, but has gone on to achieve popularity world-wide. Performances of it aren't as common here in the USA, but the overture and orchestral excerpts like this one are invariably crowd pleasers. The "Dance of the Comedians" also pops up in "Road Runner" cartoons, as I recall.

Bizet: "Farandole" from L'Arlésienne – Alphonse Daudet's 1872 drama (usually translated as "The Girl from Arles") wasn't well received in its day and has pretty much disappeared since. Bizet's incidental music, though, continues to be popular. The "Farandole" incorporates a traditional French Christmas carol, "The March of the Kings."

Glinka: Ruslan and Lyudmila Overture - Glinka's 1842 fairy-tale opera isn't done very often. The overture, though, one of those pieces that used to crop up often as “filler” on classical LPs—a function it still serves on classical radio stations today. Its alluring melodies and neat little solo tympani part are irresistible.

Fred, Ginger, and canine companion

Gershwin: Promenade – This perky little tune started out life as the accompaniment for a dog-walking sequence aboard an ocean liner in the 1937 Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers vehicle Shall We Dance. In 1960 it was published as "Promenade." There are many recordings of it out there, including one by the St. Louis Symphony as part of its complete Gershwin orchestral works set.

Gliere: "Russian Sailors' Dance" from The Red Poppy – This 1927 ballet has would up on the ash heap of history, largely (I assume) because of the heavy-handed Soviet propaganda that constitutes its scenario. Individual numbers are still popular, though—especially this typically rousing dance that starts majestically and builds to a wild climax. I recall playing this in the school orchestra. The trombone part gets pretty hectic towards the end.

Tchaikovsky: "Waltz" from Sleeping Beauty, op. 66 – Here's one of those famous classical pieces that became the basis for a popular song: Jack Lawrence and Sammy Fain's "Once Upon a Dream" from the 1959 animated Disney film Sleeping Beauty. In its original 1890 form it's a typically sweeping Tchaikovsky waltz.

Brahms: Hungarian Dance No.5 in G minor – It's only appropriate that this should be on the same program as the Dvorák Slavonic Dances since it was, in part, the success of the Brahms dances that moved Dvorák to compose his. Although Brahms is the composer of record for the 21 Hungarian Dances, most of them actually used existing folk melodies. The fifth dance, in fact, uses a melody composed by Béla Kéler, which Brahms, apparently innocently, took for a folk tune. Copyright law was less fierce in those days.

Grieg: "Last Spring" from Two Elegiac Melodies – The Two Elegiac Melodies for string orchestra from 1880 were inspired by poems of Aasmund Olafsson Vinje. "Last Spring" is wonderful mixture of joy and sadness, with some final bars that will melt the hardest heart. Bring a hankie.

El sombrero de tres picos
by the Spanish National Ballet

Falla: "Final Dance (Jota)" from El sombrero de tres picos (The Three-Cornered Hat) – I can't think of anything better to bring you back from the melancholy of "Last Spring" than this joyous final dance from Manuel de Falla's 1919 comic ballet. First performed at the Alhambra Theatre in London, El sombrero de tres picos boasted choreography by Léonide Massine and costumes by some guy named Picasso. The great Ernest Ansermet conducted. Not shabby.

The essentials: Steven Jarvi conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra in "Bravo! An Evening of Classical Favorites" on Saturday, June 7, at 7:30 PM at Powell Symphony Hall, 718 North Grand. For more information: stlsymphony.org. Note that Circus Flora is set up on the Powell Hall south lot, so parking could be at a premium.

Hellraiser

Augustin Hadelich

Who: The St. Louis Symphony Orchestra conducted by Yan Pascal Tortelier with violinist Augustin Hadelich
What: Music of Rossini, Paganini, and Berlioz
Where: Powell Symphony Hall
When: April 12-14, 2013

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As René Spencer Saller points out in her program notes for these concerts, the legendary violinist/composer Niccolò Paganini was the early 18th century equivalent of a modern rock star, with an extravagant talent and matching lifestyle. He made women faint with ecstasy and cheerfully encouraged rumors that he owed his phenomenal talent to a deal with Satan by dressing all in black and riding to concerts in a black coach drawn by black horses. He was, in short, Mr. Showbiz.

You can hear that flash as well as a fair amount of finesse in his Violin Concerto No. 1 in D Major. Op. 6, which he first performed in 1816. Like most of Paganini’s music, it demands a high level of technical skill, especially in the opening and closing movements. The soulful "Adagio", though, could almost pass for an operatic aria and demands real musical sensitivity.

Augustin Hadelich appears to have plenty of both. He negotiated the purely showoff material with ease. But he also made that second movement sing and even, in places, weep. In his notes for a 2011 Kennedy Center performance of the concerto, Peter Laki notes that this movement “supposedly depicts a famous actor of the time delivering one of his most heart-rending speeches.” Others have heard the composer’s own anguish over his poor health. Whatever the cause, it’s emotionally charged stuff, and Mr. Hadelich did it well, beautifully supported by Mr. Tortelier and the orchestra.

Unlike Paganini, Mr. Hadelich does not appear to be drawn to the showy or overtly theatrical in performance. Yes, he was dressed entirely in black, but when he started playing his concentration was entirely on his instrument and the conductor. He’s a serious musician, a fact made all the more apparent is his encore, the "Andante" from Bach’s Violin Sonata No. 2 (BWV 1003). Virtuosity of a different kind is called for here, as the performer must sustain both the rocking base line and fluid melody above it. Done well, as it was Friday morning by Mr. Hadelich, the music presents the illusion that two instruments are playing at once.

If Paganini courted a diabolical image, his friend Hector Berlioz perhaps took it a step farther by actually going to Hell in the final movement of his 1830 Symphonie fantastique, Op. 14. Subtitled “An Episode in the Life of an Artist,” the work tells, in dramatic and musically explicit terms, the story of a “young vibrant musician” who becomes sexually obsessed with an “ideal” woman. He dreams of her in the first movement; unsuccessfully pursues her at a ball in the second; and flees to the country to escape his longing in the third. In the fourth movement “March of the Scaffold” (often performed by itself) he overdoses on opium (the LSD of the early 19th century) and dreams he is being beheaded for her murder. The work ends with the hallucinatory “Dreams of a Witches' Sabbath,” in which the protagonist envisions himself at an infernal dance, presided over by the object of his affection, now transformed into a demon.

The idea for the Symphonie came from Berlioz’s own obsession with the Irish Shakespearean actress Harriet Smithson, whom he wooed for years and finally won after convincing her to attend a performance of the piece. The composer never tried to kill her, but he did threaten to kill himself with an opium overdose if she didn’t marry him—which she did. The marriage did not end well, but that’s another story.

Unlike the marriage, the music lasted, although it was fiercely controversial. Parisians had just gotten used to the idea of Beethoven when along came this wildly dramatic bit of excess scored for a massive orchestra and accompanied by a narrative that was, to say the least, lurid. Younger composers like Liszt and Saint-Saëns loved it but traditionalists like Mendelssohn were appalled. Even today, a good performance is still (to quote another concertgoer Friday morning) a “wild ride.”

Watch Berlioz: Symphonie fantastique on PBS. See more from Keeping Score.

In order for that ride to be enjoyable, of course, you need a conductor who can keep it all under control and make the languorous sighs of the first movement as compelling as the histrionics of the last. Mr. Tortelier did all of that Friday morning, and then some. His interpretation was nuanced without sacrificing any of the composer’s high drama. He clearly knows this music inside out—he conducted without a score—and that level of expertise was apparent in every note.

Mr. Tortelier’s conducting style is fascinating to watch. Working without a baton, he uses his very expressive hands to shape phrases. He seems to be all about economy of movement, holding the big gestures in reserve for when they’re really needed—the volcanic final moments of the Symphonie, for example. There’s subtle shading there that parallels his interpretive approach.

The Berlioz offers plenty of solo opportunities for members of the orchestra, and the symphony musicians did not disappoint. Cally Banham, for example, did full justice to the famous English horn solo in the bucolic “Scène aux Champs,” as did oboist Phil Ross with the offstage echo part. Andrew Cuneo and his fellow bassoonists were wonderfully precise in the fourth movement death march. There was also lovely work here by Scott Andrews and Diana Haskell on clarinet, Andrea Kalpan on flute, and Julie Thornton on flute and piccolo. Praise is also due to Harpists Megan Stout and Claire Happel for their lovely sound in the second movement waltz waltz as well as to the entire percussion section, who get a vigorous workout in the final two movements..

The concert opened with a wonderfully jolly performance of the overture to L’italiana in Algeri by another detractor of the Symphonie fantastique, Gioachino Rossini (“What a good thing it isn’t music”). It’s classic Rossini, with those familiar slow builds in volume and pace that earned him the nickname “Signor Crescendo.” Here, as in the Berlioz, Mr. Tortelier found variety and nuance where I have not heard them in other performances, at least on CD. Mr. Ross’s oboe and Ms. Thornton’s piccolo sounded quite fine in their solo passages.

Next on the calendar: Friday and Saturday, April 19 and 20, at 8 PM, Ward Stare conducts the orchestra and chorus in an intriguing program of two rarely heard Brahms choral works, Johann Strauss Jr.’s Artist’s Life waltz, a suite from Richard Strauss’s Rosenkavalier, and Webern’s entrancing Im Sommerwind. For ticket information: stlsymphony.org.

TPTBT (The Place to Be Tonight): Saturday, April 13

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Who: The St. Louis Symphony with conductor Yan Pascal Tortelier and violinist Augustin Hadelich
What: Music of Rossini, Paganini, and Berlioz
When: Tonight at 8 (simulcast on St. Louis Public Radio 90.7 FM and HD 1) and Sunday at 3
Where: Powell Symphony Hall
Why: "Known for his gorgeous tone and expressive communication, Augustin Hadelich has catapulted into the top echelon of young violinists. He makes his STL Symphony debut performing Paganini’s Violin Concerto No. 1, followed by Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique. Complete with an elegant ball, a frightening march to the scaffold and a pastoral scene in a field, Berlioz’s most celebrated work is an orchestral tour-de-force."  We saw this concert Friday morning and were very impressed by Mr. Hadelich's performance.  The real killer, though, was Mr. Tortelier's electrifying Symphonie fantastique; a beautifully nuanced and highly dramatic interpretation.

Watch Berlioz: Symphonie fantastique on PBS. See more from Keeping Score.

Paganini was a violinist of such astounding technique that some said he was in league with the devil—a myth he cultivated by dressing entirely in black and arriving at concerts in a black carriage pulled by black horses.  His much-deserved reputation as a womanizer and hellraiser only added to the legend.  Berlioz was more stable, but his Symphonie fantastique—inspired by his obsession with the Irish Shakespearean actress Harriet Smithson—is pretty extreme stuff as well.  Subtitled "Episode in the Life of an Artist", it's detailed program chronicles a sexual obsession that leads to a drug overdose (opium, the LSD of the early 18th century) and resulting hallucinations of murder and a Satanic mass.

And you thought the classics were stuffy!  Check out the embedded video above for an entertaining and enlightening tour through the Symphonie fantastique and the life of its creator.