How nice to play Beethoven 5 on one’s birthday, not to mention have “Happy Birthday” played for one by the orchestra! A real treat after a day of individual conferences with writing students, repeatedly saying things like “Yes, ‘there’ ‘they’re’ and ‘their’ actually are different words,” and “No, I don’t think you can safely cite ‘personal opinion’ as evidence for the claim that ‘most Americans are going bankrupt right now’” – you get the idea.
Here are a couple tokens of gratitude...
Linda Ashworth sent the first along. I wish we’d had this for the last concert! “Mit Parodie” is my favorite.
A New Mahler glossary Langsam = Slowly Schleppend = Slowly Dampfer auf = Slowly Mit Dampfer = Slowly Allmahlich in das Hauptzeitmass ubergehen = do not look at conductor Im Anfang sehr gemaechlich = in intense inner torment Alle Betonunger sehr zart = with more intense inner torment Getheilt = out of tune Von hier an in sehr allmaehlicher aber stetiger Steigerung bis zum Zeichen = From this point on, the spit valves should be emptied with ever-increasing emotion Hier ist ein frisches belebtes Zeitmass eingetreten = Slowly Hapttempo = Slowly Noch ein wenig bechleunigend = slowing down with a sense of speeding up immer noch zuruckhaltend = with steadily decreasing competence sehr gemaechlich = With indescribably horrific inner torment Etwas bewegter, aber immer noch ruhig = Somewhat louder, though more inaudible than before Gemaechlich = Intermission Ganz unmerklich etwas zuruckhaltend = Slowly Etwas gemaechlicher als zuvor = Slowly Zurueckhaltend = Gesundheit Von hier ab unmerklich breiter werden = As if wild animals were gnawing on your liver Ohne cresc. = Without toothpaste Immer noch zurueckhaltend = slowly Allmaehlich etwas lebhafter = Screaming in agony Ohne Nachschlag = Without milk Kraeftig bewegt = Slowly Alle = Second violins tacet Mit dem Holze zu streichen = like a hole in the head mit Parodie = Viola solo sehr einfach und schlicht = Slowly Daempfer ab = eyes closed Den ersten Ton scharf herausgegeben = Do not play until buzzer sounds Am Griffbrett = As if in tune Aeusserst zart aber ausdrucksvoll = Radiantly joyful despite the itching Wieder zurueckhaltend = Increasingly decreasing Noch breiter als vorher = Better late than never Nicht eilen = No eels Allmaelich (unmerklich) etwas zuruckhaltend = Much faster (slower) than conductor Lang gestrichen = Heads Up Lang gezogen = Heads down
Tracy Sparks found this one. It’s Zuill Bailey performing the last part of the Tchaikovsky “Rococo Variations” at the February dress rehearsal. wow...
Best, DH
(And yes, I do sometimes get carded, though mostly by very old checkers with thick glasses and senile dementia.)
When I interviewed Michael Nowak for Moebius over a year ago (the interview that’s been serialized for “Classics in the Cohan” programs this season), we had a brief conversation about moving around, living in one place versus several, etc. I remarked that even after six years, I still felt “new to the area.” Mike replied, “yeah, six years; you’re still new.”
I’ve led a fairly peripatetic life (nine locations), but in thinking about it, I saw that I haven’t always been so keen to move around. For example, in Seattle, I lived in the same apartment for eight years. (I loved that place!) I realized that perhaps I’ve been following Holly Golightly’s advice: when you find a place where you and things go together, buy some furniture and give the cat a name.
Many members of the SLO Symphony must have come to this same realization at some point in the past. So, on the suggestion of Quin Hauss, and as a corollary to Mike’s twenty-fifth anniversary, the blog will feature a series of profiles honoring Symphony members who’ve played with the orchestra for twenty-five years or more. First up: Barbara Blanke and Pat Lamprecht.
Barbara Blanke Barbara’s primary instrument is violin, though she also plays guitar and piano, mostly for children. She joined the Symphony in 1982 after a neighbor brought over the Tribune to show her a two-line advertisement with audition information.
Barbara recalls those days:
“I had lived in SLO for one and 1/2 years and did not know there was a symphony. I had played in the Bay Area for the San Jose Light Opera and various community groups and really missed not having a musical home in SLO.”
Barbara has “so many!” fond memories of her time with the orchestra, and here are just a few: “Michael's audition was so memorable! Since I was a music major and loved conducting, his style and energy was awesome.” She enjoyed being on the Symphony Board for three years as the orchestra representative, and she also loved “assisting with the start up and initial research for Everyday Etudes,” describing the experience as “so much fun to be a part of.” Barbara holds out “hope that there will be classical music lovers in our future.”
Here’s the Everyday Etudes video, in which Barbara is featured:
Barbara describes the Carnegie Hall and Australia tours as “incredible.” On Carnegie Hall: “We played and then embarked on a midnight cruise around the New York skyline. As we circled the Statue of Liberty about thirty of us out on the ‘cold’ bow of the boat simultaneously broke into song, ‘God Bless America.’ This still gives me chills thinking about that night!” On Sydney: “I loved going to the zoo with Mike, Suzette and Julia and other orchestra friends in Australia. Any time to have real-life time with my musician friends on a different level is what life is all about!”
Barbara is optimistic about the future of the Symphony: “We are so lucky to have Sandi and the incredible, incredible staff at the Symphony office. They are what keeps the heart beating and they do it with such a flair!”
She also has some advice on how to keep music alive in our community: “If all musicians commit to give time and/or money and believe in the music that we all love, the symphony will thrive. Build relationships and give anything you can and classical music will be an important part of San Luis Obispo forever!”
The picture posted above is of Barbara and her husband Dan on the day of her doctoral defense.
Pat Lamprecht Pat is a longtime member of the viola section, and she also performs in the alto section of the Vocal Arts Ensemble, directed by her husband Gary.
Pat recalls her early days with the Symphony:
“I joined the symphony viola section in 1972 as a newlywed. Clif Swanson was the director at that time and we performed at the old Cuesta Auditorium. The members of the orchestra were very kind to both Gary and me and made us feel very welcome to this community after we had left the Los Angeles area. I have played with the orchestra most of the years since then, only taking time off to have babies, for the most part.”
Ed Lowman was the orchestra manager during this time, and he called Pat to play viola only after she’d had time to recover from having her twins, Amber and Carey, and later, son Darby.
Pat recalls some fun times commuting: “Ed Harris (who still plays bass in the symphony) and I would carpool to rehearsal from Cayucos in his huge Buick -- top down, lots of chrome and gigantic fins -- what a ride!”
Pat sums up her experience with the SLO Symphony: “It has been great pleasure for me to have had both of my daughters (violin and oboe) and husband (rookie percussion) play in the orchestra with me at various times over the years. I know that our symphony will continue to grow and flourish, even in uncertain economic times. I am thankful for the gift of music I receive each time I am allowed to be a part of our symphony. There is no better seat in the hall than where the violas sit.”
And there’s no better seat onstage than the one next to Pat Lamprecht.
Even though we’ve had hiatus from “Classics in the Cohan,” March was a busy month for many musicians in the SLO Symphony. Some of us were doing the PCPA recording of Les Miserables; some played for the Pacific Repertory Opera’s production of Madama Butterfly, and almost everyone did the Children’s Concerts. I did two out of three and can’t fathom how those who did all three kept their sanity. I would have been lost without my Two Fat Ladies DVDs from Netflix. Why is watching full-figured British matrons cook pigeons wrapped in streaky bacon so comforting after a long day? Mysteries.
Anyway, I’ve been neglecting the blog, so here’s an update.
I’d been looking forward to playing Madama Butterfly for some time, and it didn’t disappoint. PRO’s new Artistic Director, Robert Ashens, is… wait for it… a real pro (ba-dum-bum). He knew the score like he’d written it himself; he was clear about cues and musicality, and he displayed great skill and encouragement in leading us through an intricate score. I thought Grace Seng’s sensitively played violin solos perfectly captured the pathos of the story. Plus, it was nice to see the performances so well attended. I hear the Youth Symphony was given a discount, and judging by the glowing faces of my viola student and his mother at intermission, that was a good idea.
Whenever I do the opera, I think about how professional opera orchestra musicians are some of the highest paid. There’s a reason for that: it’s hard work! Opera pushes one’s limits of concentration and endurance, and Madama Butterfly is no exception. It’s almost three hours of almost constant playing (no recitatives for breaks). Tempos and style change abruptly, and the tempos are, well, flexible is too mild a term. Put a fermata on every other note, and watch the conductor like he’s your last chance to escape the fires of hell. Certain parts, like when Cio-Cio-San is being disowned, or when Pinkerton returns – the orchestra parts are like warfare – fast tempos, odd phrasings, tricky counting, abrupt dynamic shifts. Act I is almost an hour. Then after a break, you play Act II (just 48 minutes). Then a break, and Act III (a concise 30 minutes). Then it’s almost the witching hour, and you drive home, dodging the odd vampire.
The experience reminded of this video of by my favorite singer/songwriter, Rufus Wainwright. The song is called “April Fools,” and it features him cavorting around LA with famous opera heroines who all meet bad ends. See how many you can identify. (Sorry, we can't "embed" this one in the blog, but click the link and you're there!)
OK, I have to get this off my chest: if I ever meet the copyist for the viola part, I’ll give that sadist a piece of my mind. Our part had the worst page turns in the history of page turns. Something really important at the bottom of the page, one measure rest, then… something else really important right after that! Often, a soli part! We actually had to plan and practice page turns. I even tried memorizing some (with limited success). We worked it out, though. We did our thing. We made it our own. There was some pitchiness, but, Dawg! It was the bomb! We’re going to the finals! (I’ve been watching too much American Idol.)
Despite some challenges, playing for PRO is always such a great experience. It’s almost like chamber music (if chamber music had sopranos belting high E flats before dying in a pool of pathos), but more than that, it’s inspiring that (especially in these times) our relatively small community can put on (mostly) home-grown opera performances. For me, the best part comes when it’s all done: watching the singers take their bows, being brought flowers, in their wild costumes and crazy stage makeup, and contemplating this amazing feat we’ve all just accomplished. What a remarkable thing to do in the world.
I did a bit of research on Puccini and was surprised to learn that after writing Madama Butterfly, he wrote a sort of prequel to it, about Cio-Cio-San’s childhood and early life before Pinkerton came along. It was called Madama Caterpillar.
Here’s a little (good) opera-related humor. First you’ll need to watch this video of Australian pop diva Kylie Minogue singing her 90s hit “Lucky.” Not mandatory to watch the whole thing. In fact, don’t -- unless you like bubblegum-pop -- but it’s set up for the video that follows.
Here’s the main course: the British comedy duo of Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders (plus opera star Sarah Walker and conductor Carl Davis) with their send-up of opera and opera divas.
Here’s the short version:
And here’s the full version:
Next were the Children’s Concerts, March 30th. It was great to play concerts for kids programmed with “real” music. In my opinion, classical music can be presented to young people in an accessible, meaningful, not-dumbed-down way, and these shows did that beautifully. As in, Copland wrote dance music, so why not have dancers? Disney did a smart visualization of Beethoven, so show it. Vivaldi wrote program music, so read the poems he based his concerti on. And please (as Mike did) explain why the viola player sounds like a dog.
Who would have thought when I joined the orchestra that one day I’d be impersonating a dog? Still, fun -- sort of like going to a costume party: slightly embarrassing, but fun because also embarrassing. And it was worth it to play the faithful companion of Brynn Albanese. I adored her passionate interpretation of “Spring.” The kids did too. As Mike said at rehearsal, Brynn plays this stuff for breakfast. Before she burns some rubber, that is:
For me, another highlight of the program was Britten’s Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra. My favorite variation is the bass one – it reminds me of the frolicking hippos from Fantasia. Much better than the viola variation. Regardless of how well one plays ours, to me it brings to mind someone with intestinal distress hoping the Pepto-Bismol will kick in.
I enjoyed Sue Blue’s narration – I’m sure it helped introduce the kids to the sounds they were about to hear, and she’s a wizard with voices.
On to Beethoven and Barber! (Click here for details - May 2nd at the PAC - don't miss it!)
Best, DH
PS: An opera-related viola joke: A violist and a soprano jump out of a burning building at the same time. Who hits the ground first?
The violist. The soprano stops midway to take a bow.
Hi everyone! What a great concert Saturday! The Mahler especially was an amazing experience. A Mahler symphony is like its own world... I'm still at a loss for words, or I would write more about it.
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--Which member of the SLO Symphony is vying with Rush Limbaugh and Michael Steele to be the new "voice of the Republican party"?
--Who once showed up to rehearsal high on Robitussin and POM, ranting “they should call this group the San Luis Obispo Philharmonic. Get it? S.L.O.P.!”
--Which member of the brass section fathered one of Angelina’s Jolie’s children?
Obviously, no one. If only it were different, I could channel Liz Smith and have something to write about. But as it is, I’ve got this “D is for Downtime” theme and I’m stuck. It’s just not working, but I couldn’t think of a better D topic.
“D is for Dvorak?”– too narrow. “D is for David Hennessee?” – too navel-gazing.“D is for Drug Use?”– umm... no.
Downtime is just not that interesting. In fact, it’s what we do when we’re not being interesting, i.e. playing music. “D is for Downtime” is by definition, dull. And the good parts, I can’t really write about. :) So what am I to do? I know, I’ll throw in a humorous video: “Pachelbel Rant” (cellists take note)
I just realized: the Symphony Ball was this past weekend! I should have sold some shoes or internal organs so I could afford to go (not that tickets were too pricey – it’s a benefit, after all. I’m just saving all my money these days). Maybe I could have come away with some material. Then again, whenever I attend events like this, I end up talking to the wait staff and bartenders all night. They tell great stories, but most are NSFW.
Still, what a great honor for Pam Dassenko -- “D is for Dassenko!” I’m constantly impressed by her violin playing – elegant, sensitive, fearless – but before now I wasn’t aware that she’s also been a force for music education in the community. Congratulations, Pam!
Anyway, back to Downtime. I’ll soldier on here and do what I can. Be advised that this is not the best writing I’ve ever done (that includes checks and bathroom walls). So part of Downtime is:
Breaks In unionized orchestras, break times are strictly mandated. The SLO Symphony isn’t unionized, but we have regular breaks. Rehearsals start at 7:30; we play till 8:15-8:45, then take a 15-20 minute break. The obvious reason: using the restroom. You can’t play when you have to pee. Breaks also mean snacks. Nuts, fruits, veggies, cookies, cheese and crackers… meat on rare occasions… there’s tea and coffee, with caffeine or without. Not all groups provide snacks – we’re lucky.
Now, I have no sweet tooth at all, so when I see a table that’s all cookies, I’m bummed. But if it’s cheese, nuts, carrots, or grapes... score! Free food is a working musician’s best friend. I once played for a wedding where the coordinator had to pry me away from the crab cakes by saying, “Umm… they’re ready to get married now.”
You do have to be careful what you eat on break. Wind players can’t eat much (or at all) because food particles could crud up their instruments, unless they brush their teeth before resuming. There are perils for string players as well. Last fall, the Pacific Repertory Opera’s Friday performance fell on Halloween, so the pit orchestra passed around a bag of candy. No big deal, right? Read on…
With opera you have to pace yourself. It can be a long haul. As Ina Davenport joked about a performance a few years ago: “It started at 8 o’clock. Then it’s 9 o’clock, 10 o’clock, 11 o’clock – around 11:30, I wondered if they’d gone back to the beginning and started over!”
So, during this Halloween performance of The Marriage of Figaro, around 9:45pm the bag of candy came my way. The wind players abstained (see above). As I mentioned, I don’t like sweets, and never eat candy, especially not before I’m usually getting ready for bed. But it was Halloween -- so I had a Snickers during a recitative. Big mistake. Not only did it make my hands sticky, but about 45 minutes later I had a sugar crash. For about 8 measures Mozart sounded like Charles Ives. Fortunately, Mary James was there to get me back on track. She does know the entire opera repertoire from memory. :)
Socializing Usually socializing during breaks is light-hearted, but at times there’s something serious to discuss. Many of us are music teachers, so there might be student-related issues. Or we might need to coordinate an upcoming gig. Or there might be a question about the music that we need to resolve. Sometimes the winds rehearse their parts. What a great a work ethic!
I’ve written before about the Myers-Briggs/Jung Typology, which provides a framework for understanding Introversion and Extroversion. Introverts gain strength from time alone with their thoughts. Performing spends that energy. Extroverts, by contrast, are energized by external stimuli and seek more.
So, Extroverts come into a break jazzed up, ready to socialize, while Introverts look to a break as exactly that -- a break – a chance to be alone, or talk to a few people, or just walk around and look at things.
Getting Ready Another issue for downtime – what to do before performances. Musicians have different ways of preparing. Some practice like crazy. Some joke around. Others get really Zen.
I’ll never forget the sight of Kathie Lenski in a yoga position before we did a chamber music concert a few years ago. She looked so peaceful and centered. And then she played the Brahms Trio like it was nothing.
Afterwards So you play the concert, it all goes well (hopefully). Then what do you do? You’re mentally fired up but physically drained. You’ve got a bunch of tunes swirling around your head. Plus, you’re beating yourself up for any mistakes made, or patting yourself on the back for parts that went well, or wondering how the concert will be reviewed. How to unwind?
When I was in my 20s, it was time to hit the town. After a couple of Long Island Teas and some dancing, cares just melt away.
These days, it’s more like hit the hay -- after some SNL. I can usually stay awake through Weekend Update.
It’s odd, but on Sundays after a Saturday concert, there’s a part of me that’s resting on laurels, glad it’s over, but there’s another part that wants to do it all again. And then I see the folder of music for the next concert.
Best, DH
PS. Why did the violist fall asleep in the middle of the concert? The viola part indicated 16 bars of rest.
In the late mid-90s, I was in my early late-20s, and I stopped going to hear orchestra concerts. For variety’s sake, I’d choose a movie, play, musical, or chamber music performance – something different from the orchestra playing I did so often.
Recently, I thought I’d make a change. So last Tuesday, instead of Rachael Ray, Rachel Maddow, and American Idol, it was the Munich Symphony under Philippe Entremont (February 17, 2009, at the Performing Arts Center).
I think I will start attending orchestra concerts again.
The program notes mentioned that from its founding in 1945, the Munich Symphony strives toward “flexibility, the ability to adapt to all forms of music without inhibitions, and always being prepared to take on new challenges.” These goals have “shaped the character of the Orchestra.”
The concert began with Wagner’s “Siegfried Idyll.” Wagner wrote this piece as a surprise gift to his wife Cosima. It started subtly and tenderly, gradually swelling to the Romantic intensities more expected in Wagner. The orchestra had a warm and blended sound. I noticed that the strings didn’t use the big, schlocky vibrato that sometimes (to me) makes Wagner a bit over-the-top. This choice seemed appropriate, as the piece was conceived as a private love letter; it’s not Isolde dying for love.
Next came Beethoven’s Piano Concerto #1 (with Entremont as conductor and soloist). Right away it sounded like a new orchestra had taken the stage. The playing was muscular and taut, rhythmically vigorous, energetic: all the things we love about Beethoven. But this is early Beethoven, so the piece required a degree of Mozartean clarity. Entremont captured the blend perfectly. His passage work in the fast movements had fiery intensity without being heavy on the touch, and his choices of tempo and phrasing in the longest of Beethoven’s slow movements left us wanting more. He stayed seated to conduct tutti passages, and otherwise conducted minimally, giving the piece a chamber music feel – I noticed that the players looked at him more often than when he was at the podium.
The only downside of this choice: minor ensemble problems in the quiet passages of the first and third movements, when I imagine some the players couldn’t hear the delicate piano parts clearly. I suspect this slight blurring didn’t register in other parts of the hall.
After intermission came Webern’s “Funf Satze” (Five Movements). I’d studied this piece in music history and learned about its innovations in form, dissonance, unusual string techniques like col legno (hitting the wood of the bow percussively on the string) and sul ponticello (playing close to the bridge to get a whistly, scratchy sound). The 12-tone guys like Webern and Schoenberg are often not appreciated because of these un-beautiful effects, or they’re thought too intellectual and deliberately experimental.
However, in performance I thought this piece conveyed great emotional drama. There’s more than one way to convey emotion, after all, than beautiful sound (think Bob Dylan’s voice). The fragmentation in the writing, deliberate ugliness of tone color, and abrupt contrasts in mood, to me, sounded like the disorientation and confusion of the early-20th-century, post-World-War-I zeitgeist. When I teach Modernist literature again, I may play this piece for my students and show them some slides of Picasso, Matisse, and Otto Dix.
There was terrific solo work in the strings. The principal players evoked musical versions of T.S. Eliot’s J. Alfred Prufrock, or characters from Hemingway or Woolf – at turns impassioned, tremulous, iced-over, adrift in a world befogged and befogging – but not hopeless.
Here’s what I mean. Movement Two:
And Movement Three:
Another abrupt mood shift with the last selection of the evening: Mendelssohn’s Symphony #4, the “Italian.” Not exactly an unfamiliar piece, and Mendelssohn’s not my favorite composer (too effervescent – like champagne when you want a good scotch).
This performance worked for me, though -- I think because they played Mendelssohn as if he were Beethoven (I owe this observation to James Cushing). Mendelssohn sometimes calls to mind a game of badminton. This reading was more like rugby. It had guts.
The challenge with Mendelssohn: his music is delicate and transparent, but also hard as hell. You have to make all those noodles and tough licks sound easy. That’s probably why passages from the Italian Symphony often show up in audition repertoire. I couldn’t resist moving my fingers along with some of the more challenging parts I’ve played for auditions. The Munich Symphony violas nailed every one. How does one say “Viola Power” in German?
What I found most impressive was the bowing precision. The fast spiccato passages were clean without sacrificing energy. Oftentimes they can sound too bouncy and frantic. Not so here. The ostinatos in the last movement – hard to keep together as everyone’s bow arms get tired – sounded like clockwork.
I thought the winds sounded great too – but I’ll leave commentary on them to a wind player (Linda, I think I saw you there?)
BTW, CLICK HERE for a great article on Mendelssohn in a recent issue of The New Yorker.
The Munichers, playing this sunny music, on a rainy night, in the middle of a tour, far from home, nevertheless seemed relaxed and even joyful. Many smiled at each other or to themselves, and the principal second violinist, a young Asian man with spiky hair, swayed in rhythm to the dance-like third movement of the Mendelssohn.
How’s that for music as universal language: an Asian guy in a stiff black tux, channeling Sid Vicious’s punk-rock hairdo, playing a peasant dance by a German-Jewish composer, in a German orchestra, for a crowd of Californians.
A symphony colleague told me that for her, this concert epitomized the dream of the Performing Arts Center: that international artists would have a venue to attract them to our community. The PAC has been here longer than I have, so I’ve always taken it for granted. I’ve learned since that it only came to be after years of hard work, planning -- and ultimately, cooperation between the city of SLO, Cal Poly, and private individuals.
In these difficult times, I suppose we shouldn’t take anything for granted. So it’s heartening to know that SLO county music lovers wouldn’t allow a rainy Tuesday night, an economic recession, (and, in my case, the American Idol semi-finals) to keep them from supporting the wonderful artists that visit us through Cal Poly Arts.
DH
BTW: here’s Phillippe Entremont playing Chopin’s Polonaise in C# minor.
PS. Why is the viola called “Bratsche” in German? That’s the sound it makes when you sit on it.
In general, I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to comment on our concerts in this blog. My perspective in the viola section is limited, first of all, and second, I don’t want to get into any trouble. :)
However, this weekend’s concert with Zuill Bailey was such an amazing experience, I can’t resist sharing a few thoughts. Please feel free to add your own in the “comments” section. Whenever I see Patty Thayer, Mother of the Blog, she says “I know people are reading, they’re just not commenting!” So, please do go ahead and make Patty’s day by leaving a comment. I’d appreciate it too. If you’re not sure about what you’d like to write, here’s a suggested template: “David Hennessee is a brilliant writer because ________.” :)
Seriously, and more apropos to this blog, try “Zuill Bailey is a brilliant musician because ________.”
It goes without saying that all the soloists who visit the San Luis Obispo Symphony are wonderful musicians, but for me there’s something remarkable about a cello soloist. To me, watching and listening to a really fine cellist is like peering behind the wizard’s curtain and finding an actual wizard there.
Maybe it’s that the instrument is almost as large as they are and they embrace it like a lover. Or maybe it’s like looking inside a piano while it’s being played… you get a real sense of the physicality of making music… it’s not just sound; it’s arms, legs, fingers, breath, sweat…
So, Saturday night, backstage at intermission everyone was frantically spreading the word: “He’s going to sit down, put the endpin in, and start playing, so be ready.” I felt like a spy: “the cellist plays at once. The crow flies at night.” I thought, OK, big deal, we’re starting right away.
Well, it was a big deal. When Zuill Bailey launched immediately into the Saint-Saens concerto, I felt a surge of energy I’d never experienced in a concert hall. He held us in the palm of his hand and didn’t let go. Gorgeous singing tone in all registers, impeccable technique, tasteful phrasing, thoughtful interpretation, huge dynamic range. He’s a rock star.
After the initial jolt, in the Saint-Saens I was too busy counting and trying to figure out the French rest notations (is that 3 or 5 bars rest? Is that a quarter rest, or an eight rest?) to notice a lot of specifics. The muted middle section I thought was lovely – elegant, music-box-like. Zuill’s parts there were delicate and subtle. The viola part in the Tchaikovsky is less difficult, so I could pay closer attention to Zuill’s playing, and I was blown away by his range of expression, at turns elegant and courtly, plaintive, whimsical, rustic, depending on what the music asked, and that piece asks a lot, both musically and technically. His thumb position work was particularly impressive; his articulation up in the stratosphere was crystalline. How cellists can do that, I’ll never know.
One thing I do know is that principal French horn Jane Swanson nailed her solo at the beginning of the Tchaikovsky. It was note-perfect and melancholy – a lovely introduction for the piece. I thought Mike’s conducting was brilliant, as always, with all the clarity and fire we’ve come to expect, and I’m sure that his joking with Zuill at the dress rehearsal and concert showed concertgoers that classical music concerts aren’t such stuffy affairs.
Here’s a video I think you'll enjoy about Zuill Bailey’s recently released CD, Russian Masterpieces, on which he plays Tchaikovsky and Shostakovich.
We get to hear and see yet another master of the cello – Lynn Harrell – this fall. I hear he might persuaded to do some master classes. Here are a couple of previews of what those might be like:
I thought the Mahler (March 7th at the PAC) would be the highlight of the season for me, and maybe it will, but it would be hard to beat Saturday’s concert. I’ve seldom seen such an enthusiastic standing ovation. What a privilege to have helped make the music that gave so many such joy.
DH
PS. The inevitable viola joke: Why did the violist give up learning a transcription of the “Rococo Variations”? He couldn’t figure out how to do thumb position on viola.
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