San Francisco Classical Voice

There is a huge hurdle: the intensely Berkeley-PC plot will be offputting to unschooled non-activists or neocons. If relayed in advance via program notes, it may scare some audiences into thinking they must sit in for a mandatory anti-WTO re-education session. However, if one listens with an open mind, many subtleties appear that belie the notion that the work is just polemic.

Is The Corporation the Bad Guy, or is Agent Orange really Black's grandson come back to wreak revenge for the fire that killed his father? Or is this simply a generational battle between philosophies, where the old ways, however nostalgic, must give way to the new?

One way to emphasize these mitigating subtleties would be to project surtitles or provide librettos. Despite attempts at clear English diction, about a quarter of the content was lost to these ears. And there was quite a bit of content — probably too much unsung dialogue. Instead of text, slides of corn, a combine, a tractor, colors, and a peculiar mineralogic cross section (basalt with olivine?) were projected to the rear.

But considering the crux — the sympathy, the music, and Duykers come through strongly. Duykers — with his gorgeous voice, especially rich in low registers and falsetto, with facially and vocally projected anguish — looked the quintessential farmer in his gray overalls. The vocal lines, unlike the accompaniment, were for the most part singable. In a stylistic shift reminiscent of William Bolcom, Rohde even included down-to-earth bluesy passages for Davis in “Miss White's Aria.” The choral writing, while not particularly memorable (except for a “blah, blah, blah” ditty for a group of lawyers), was cleverly inserted to provide variety at the right moment.

Although there were several impenetrable-at-first-hearing sections, Rohde came through to the heart with touching paeans to the simple life, love of land and wife — his “Tender Aria” at the beginning and “Every Blessed Day” at the conclusion. The climax to the piece, a passacaglia called “The Devil's in the Details,” while strong, did not match the level of cataclysm found in the Berg, perhaps because of the lack of a striking tune or use of Berg's trick of a sudden reversion to tonality. But again, further hearings (a radio broadcast is scheduled for March 19, 2006) may bring out hidden beauties.

The orchestration was medium- to small-scale, generally transparent. An unwise decision, perhaps decreed by spatial considerations, was to split the percussion section to the wings of the stage, with the rest of the players below and in front. This allowed the percussion to project too forcefully, with stereophonic effects for no apparent purpose relative to the action.

Altogether a commendable effort, worthy of many future performances in carefully selected venues.

Prior to intermission and the world premiere of Bitter Harvest, Schumann's “Spring” symphony was on the program. The first movement was marred by ragged ensemble work, the second by a baby(!) crying in the audience and a huge thud in the bass section, and the third by Nagano's failing to emphasize major/minor dichotomy of the main theme. Was he on autopilot waiting for the real event of the evening to follow? At least in the finale, the orchestra came closer to the animato e grazioso qualities called for in the score. By then, however, most of the crop was lost.