Leon Fleisher's Freebee Benefits Jacksonville Symphony

In recent weeks, strikes by the Writers Guild of America and Broadway stagehands have shut down two important arts institutions. Those contract disputes have garnered intense media coverage, and understably so; Broadway shows and TV/movie productions draw huge audiences and generate enormous income. Yet a smaller, regional work stoppage has gone almost completely unnoticed.

On November 12, the Jacksonville Symphony Association declared a lockout after failing to reach a contract agreement with the Musicians' Union. To date, the impasse has forced the cancellation of several performances, including a Pops concert, Messiah, and an upcoming Masterworks Series concert. Organizations of orchestral players from across the county have come to the support of the embattles musicians, but their aid is limited.

Thankfully, one of the most renowned and accomplished musicians of our generation has taken notice. Leon Fleisher, a legendary pianist and teacher and 2007 Kennedy Center Honoree, donated his services for a benefit concert held on Friday, December 20 at the University of North Florida. Fleisher conducted musicians of the Jacksonville Symphony Orchestra in two works by Beethoven: the Overture to Coriolan and the Fifth Symphony; he was joined by his wife Katherine for Mozart's Concerto for Two Pianos, which he directed from the keyboard.

Audiences on the First Coast have long enjoyed the JSO's wonderful performances, yet Friday's concert was unusually special. Fleisher's dramatic, muscular Beethoven interpretations contrasted with the weightless, elegant Mozart. His playing was crisp and straightforward, but featured crystal clear textures; his sound seemed to ring in the air.

While the performance itself was memorable, the sentiment behind it cannot be overstated. Now without their full-time jobs, the musicians displayed enormous passion, performing with fire and energy. Unlike many subscription concerts, they were not simply going through the motions.

Concertmaster Philip Pan accused management of putting finances ahead of the audience while emphasizing the musicians' desire to return to the stage. According to him, money becomes important only when it distracts them from making music. One would be very naive, however, to believe that money isn't at the heart of the complaints of the Musicians' Union.

Yet both sides must soon recognize that their dispute yields no winners, and one must only look to professional sports to realize how quickly the publics grows frustrated with work stoppages. The audience--and the music--are the real victims.

Returning to the stage for a third curtain call, Fleisher took the microphone and read the words of a man who overcame far more than financial troubles in the pursuit of his art: "Music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosophy." The speaker: Ludwig van Beethoven.

World Premiere Energizes Syracuse Symphony

Blame it on the weather. With the first major snowfall of the season outside, the Syracuse Symphony performed before a smaller-than-usual crowd on Friday night at the Civic Center. And for the first half of the program, it seemed to affect them, as the orchestra turned in an uneventful, nondescript reading of the Brahms Third Symphony.

These are professional musicians; they are paid to bring their best stuff every night--to play like it's their first, and perhaps last, time on stage. At least that's the idea. Musicians, however, are only human. They have bad days like the rest of us, and playing before a small audience can be disheartening. As intensity wanes, they slip into a going-through-the-motions approach to the music.

Of course, music director Daniel Hege didn't help matters through his tempo choices. I've heard very slow renditions of the the 1st movement of Brahms 3, particularly from Otto Klemperer. But his ensemble--the elite Philharmonia Orchestra--could pull it off. The Syracuse Symphony, however, does not possess enough weight or depth in their sound to sustain a slow tempo. While the cellos and basses are surprisingly strong, the violins produce nothing more than mezzo forte. Drama and shape cannot build when the dynamic ceiling is so low. And if the symphony was boring, I guarantee it wasn't Brahms's fault.

Yet in the second half of the program, the SSO sounded like a completely different orchestra. It began with the world premiere of Andrew Waggoner's Stretched on the Beauty, a concerto for for cellos and orchestra. Unlike Michael Daugherty's piano concerto Deus ex machina, which the SSO premiered in October and blatantly pandered to the audience through countless musical cliches, Stretched on the Beauty walks a fine line between obscurity and accessibility. The work challenged the audience with diverse colors, timbres, and harmonies, yet never felt overwhelming or too radical to appreciate. Dissonant moments were balanced by sections of gorgeous sonorities. The soloists--the CELLO quartet--and the orchestra were responsive to the score and each other, bringing energy and clarity to Waggoner's complex work.

Ottorino Respighi's The Pines of Rome closed the evening with the same passion. Hege drew inspired playing from the winds, particularly principal clarinetist Allan Kolsky. The finale, "The Pines of the Appian Way," features a stunning climax for the brass, and the SSO's didn't disappoint. Including an offstage brass choir, they molded an exhilarating conclusion.

Yet after the finale notes had died away and the audience filed from the hall, the concert seemed to be a missed opportunity. The Waggoner and Respighi performances succeeded resoundingly; it's too bad the orchestra used Brahms as a warm up.

Welser-Möst, Cleveland Orchestra Speed through Beethoven

Will audiences ever tire of the “Ode to Joy?” It appears unlikely, as orchestras worldwide continue to perform Beethoven’s crowning achievement. For any significant celebratory event—like the opening of a new concert hall—Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony occupies the top spot on a very short list of suitably grand works, and it will remain popular in the foreseeable future. At least that’s the hope of Franz Welser-Möst and the Cleveland Orchestra.

Welser-Möst makes his recording debut with the Cleveland Orchestra in a performance of the Ninth Symphony, released in October by Deutsche Grammophon. The disc is a compilation of live concerts recorded live in Cleveland’s famed Severance Hall in January 2007. It features soprano Measha Brueggergosman, mezzo-soprano Kelley O’Connor, tenor Frank Lopardo, bass Rene Pape and the Cleveland Orchestra Chorus.

For over 50 years, the Cleveland Orchestra’s reputation in the United States has been practically unmatched. Former music director George Szell drilled the group relentlessly, building a world-class ensemble by instilling the principles of musical structure and clarity. Subsequent conductors preserved these traditions, and the orchestra remains one of the finest in the country. Welser-Möst, now in his fifth season as the orchestra’s music director, is also head of the Zurich Opera and, beginning in 2010, he’ll run the prestigious Vienna State Opera. But with such a formidable past for both orchestra and conductor, the current recording is a disappointment.

Welser-Möst glosses over much of the Ninth in a pointless tidal wave of sound. This is one of the fastest performances on record, which in itself is not a bad thing; many conductors favor a brisk pace. But he shows little flexibility or regard for phrasing, allowing small details to pass without notice. He sets a tempo, and he is unwavering.

This approach is most damaging in the final two movements. While the opening movements are mostly rhythmic and propulsive, the Adagio is a lyrical outpouring that contains some of Beethoven’s greatest themes—models of simplicity and beauty. Yet a metronome could be set by Welser-Möst’s beat. Melodies are stifled, unable to sing. The finale, including the celebrated “Ode to Joy,” also races past at tremendous speed. This is some of the greatest music ever written, and Welser-Möst seems uninterested in savoring it.

The Cleveland Orchestra, however, is committed to Welser-Möst’s interpretation. They deliver a virtuoso performance, one of power and warmth; every instrument can be heard, and the music has rarely sounded better. Beethoven’s vocal writing is notoriously difficult, and the chorus and soloists sing with energy and clarity, particularly the resonant, commanding Pape.

With scores of Ninths preserved on disc, the decision to record another version—particularly in a conductor’s commercial debut with his orchestra—is curious. To serious collectors, who likely already own many performances, this release may be unappealing; to those looking for their first versions, Welser-Möst faces serious competition from numerous monumental recordings, primarily the transcendent beauty of Herbert von Karajan and the intense spirituality of Wilhelm Furtwängler.

Yet the Ninth Symphony may be the nearest classical music comes to a sure thing. In nearly two centuries, audiences have never tired of it. And why should we? Its appeal is universal, stretching across generations and uplifting us still today. Beethoven composed an undeniable affirmation of life, and we return to this work because no performance, despite its flaws, can rob the music of this fundamental principle. The world has evolved since the symphony’s 1824 premiere, but we continue to be inspired by Beethoven’s testament to joy and brotherhood.

Syracuse Symphony, Brentano Quartet Give Contrasting Performances

It's not wise to make assumptions, especially when it comes to classical music. Big names and big halls do not guarantee memorable concerts.

Last weekend, the Syracuse Symphony Orchestra and guest conductor Andre Raphel Smith--in the accommodating Civic Center--and the Brentano Quartet--in the cramped, dated Lincoln Middle School Auditorium--gave two profoundly different performances.

Though technically accurate, the orchestra's playing was bland and lifeless. Inexplicably, this was most obvious in Copland's Ballet Music from Rodeo. This music is a lot of things, but reserved is not one of them. Yet the orchestra seemed to be going through the motions, completely devoid of energy. "Hoedown" is inherently thrilling, but the orchestra tried their hardest to blunt its affect with a moderate tempo and poorly defined rhythms.

The orchestra also played Barber's First Symphony and Poulenc's Gloria, both of which suffered a similar demise.

The Brentano Quartet, on the other hand, was spectacular, adapting their sound and style to the music's demands. And the demands were varied, ranging from dry, sparse Renaissance motets to lush, soul-searching Romanticism. They took the audience through an emotional journey, particularly in Beethoven's Quartet No. 12, Op. 127, one of his last compositions. It was at times muscular and angular and tender. But the Adagio was most memorable.

In his final works--the Ninth Symphony, the Missa Solemnis, the last three piano sonatas--Beethoven seems to have found a higher calling, elevating his music far beyond his already unparalleled achievements. The Adagio professes a breathtaking reverence and spirituality that could convert the most staunch atheist, even for a brief moment, into a believer. The Quartet's performance was almost indescribable. They hit all the right notes, played in tune, and phrased beautifully. But more importantly, they played with tonal richness and weight, and with a purpose and unanimity that can't be categorized by musical terminology.

Sometimes we get too preoccupied by technicalities: Was the balance right? Were the rhythms all together? Was that really the most appropriate articulation? The list goes on. That's the easy stuff, at least for a trained ear, and it's all necessary for a good performance. Yet when a group--big or small--unites behind a single vision, it's magic.

Maybe such performances can't be fully described. Maybe they shouldn't be. But when heard, they are undeniable, touching something deep within us all, something fundamental. And we never know when these moments will occur.

The End of the (Classical Music) World?

For those of us who love classical music, doomsday predictions are a part of everyday life. While the Chicago Symphony is (reportedly) courting the ultra-conservative Riccardo Muti as its new music director, two of the country's most prominent orchestras are charting a new course. Alan Gilbert (age 40) is the new music director of the New York Philharmonic and Gustavo Dudamel (age 26!!) is set to take over the Los Angeles Philharmonic in two years.

In fascinating recent articles, The New York Times has profiled both conductors. And if their talent is equal to their youthful energy and enthusiasm, they could breath new life into this supposedly floundering genre.

(Photo by Dan Porges)

Syracuse Opera's "Rigoletto"

An opera can survive a few technical flaws. But when the singers are overmatched and emotionally disengaged, any production will fail.

Syracuse Opera opened its new season Friday night with a lifeless production of Verdi's Rigoletto. To succeed, this opera requires three strong voices in the leading roles. A single weak link is damaging, but this triumvirate was catastrophic.

As Gilda, soprano Judy Berry displayed the strongest voice, albeit a somewhat unpleasant one. Her glaring botched high note at the end of Act II was unfortunate, but predictable: Throughout the night, every high note--the moment at which arias culminate and audiences rejoice--was an uncomfortable stretch for her.

Baritone Constantinos Yiannoudes, as Rigoletto, and tenor Marc Schreiner, as the Duke of Mantua, seemed completely overwhelmed by their roles, unable to project into the hall. Schreiner in particular was frustrating. Maybe he was saving his voice for the third act, but even "La donna e mobile," one of the core arias of any tenor's repertoire, was a disappointment. If, at this moment, he doesn't sing out in full voice, when would he? Truth is, he probably doesn't have the voice to handle such a demanding role in such a large hall.

The Syraucse Symphony Orchestra tried valiantly to avoid covering the singers, but to no avail. Conductor John Mario Di Costanzo kept the orchestra's dynamics so low, the drama and color of Verdi's score was mostly lost. And the singers still couldn't be heard.

But more distressing was the lack emotion on stage. Opening night jitters could be to blame, but the singers appeared cautious and stiff, making sure they were always making the correct gesture in the correct spot on stage. In only one moment--Rigoletto's "Cortigiani, vil razza dannata" in Act II--did one of the principals let down his guard. As Rigoletto sang of his love for his daughter Gilda, Yiannoudes engaged the audience with gestures and singing that seemed spontaneous and genuine. The crowd felt his pain and devastation, and responded immediately, rewarding Yiannoudes with the evening's loudest ovation. But as the opera deteriorated into a climax of murder and deceit, the cast never reached those emotional depths.

Rigoletto is such a dramatic story, with the fundamental themes of love, betrayal, and vengeance. But the even keel of Syracuse Opera's current production robbed the audience from the full range of Verdi's emotional journey.