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SYMPHONY REVIEW
Brilliant Argerich Debut And "Annabel Lee" At The SF Symphony
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By Ronald F. Johnson
The San Francisco Symphony gave its audience three direct hits in a program to remember last Friday evening. First, Michael Tilson Thomas led the San Francisco premiere of an evocative setting by Gordon Getty of Edgar Allen Poe's poem "Annabel Lee." Next, Argentine pianist Martha Argerich, in her San Francisco Symphony debut, delivered the Prokofiev "Third Piano Concerto" with high-beam intensity. Then, after intermission, Tchaikovsky's Second Symphony ("Little Russian") was performed with affection, humor, clarity and robust strength.
Gordon Getty's "Annabel Lee" for men's chorus and orchestra is a deeply affecting, poignant setting of the poem. Written in the year of Poe's death, 1849, just two years after the death of his 24-year-old wife, the poem is at once a profound lament over inexplicable loss and a testament to indestructible bonds and undying love.
Getty's own poetic words (in the program notes) underscore the deep psychological impact of loss: "We knew it before we knew any other world, the world of first helplessness, first beauty, a homeland older than memory. We cannot return without pain."
The singing of the men from Vance George's Symphony Chorus was earthy, deep-toned, and virile, casting a palpable spell as their hushed voices rose in a crescendoed first intonation of the name "Annabel Lee." Fine diction, the composer's sensitive setting of the text, and the conductor's firm pacing all drew the listener into the poem. The simple earnestness of the voices in lament was supported by contrasting orchestration of great beauty, the instrumental timbres calculated to create an other-worldly atmosphere. It was, in turns, eerie, ominous, disturbing, and haunting. One could feel the grieving man, solid but adrift in the unresolved mystery of unaccountable loss and grief.
All the power in Prokofiev's 1921 Third Piano Concerto, its brilliance, immense contrasts, and lyrical moments, were revealed by Martha Argerich. The work's extraordinary technical demands were never an issue. Beyond technique, she brought clarity and added textural nuance to the most challenging passages. Thomas and the orchestra were intense collaborators--supple, warm, enveloping, as needed--and strutting, laconic, icy, and brittle in that side of Prokofiev's signature style. Orchestra and pianist challenged each other in the play of heightening contrasts which is the first movement.
The second movement is a dance-like theme with five variations and a coda which continues to embellish the theme, even as it summarizes. Pianist and orchestra opened a window into the interior of Prokofiev's ingenious transformation of theme.
The third movement begins simply with yet another brisk, dance-like theme. Argerich and Thomas found a way to widen further the succeeding contrasts, alternating a supremely passionate and longing theme with episodes of compelling kinetic energy. At the whirlwind end, there were a few seconds of stunned silence. Then the audience rose spontaneously in a full-house standing ovation.
Some of Tchaikovky's Second Symphony balances precariously between forceful, engaging statement and potential bombast. Finding the work's center of youthful earnestness and extroversion, Tilson Thomas and his musicians brought it off with a superior, thoughtful performance. Even in the more serious moments, there seemed an innocent pleasure. The triple-fortes were not ponderous or overbearing, but rather signaled eager commitment and a show of strength and celebration.
The Second Symphony is nicknamed the "Little Russian" because it incorporates folk tunes of the Ukraine, once affectionately known as "Little Russia." Besides the symphony's big Russian sounds and gestures and the Slavic-flavored folk tunes, Thomas brought out an almost Mendelssohnian transparency in the performance. One could glimpse ballet scenes, fleet cadences and figurations, as well as links to Tchaikovsky's own great ballet music. Also one could hear amidst the Ukrainian folk tunes, those which Tchaikovsky created, as well as the early signs of the extended, rich melodic lines so characteristic of his later music.
The encore, Tchaikovsky's "Miniature March" from the Orchestral Suite #1, gave the impression of being a retrospective glance at Mendelssohn, his "A Midsummer Night's Dream" and the early Romantics' introduction of color, mood and fantasy into the mainstream. A virtuoso display of gauzy harmonics and pizzicati by the high strings, tinkling percussion confections, and stunning woodwind performance, were all played as if suspended in mid-air. Exhilarating.
(Ronald F. Johnson is a pianist who studied with Rudolph Ganz in Chicago and is program annotator for the Marin Symphony. He is a medical doctor and psychiatrist in private practice, and a clinical faculty member in the Department of Psychiatry, University of California, San Francisco.)
©1998 Ronald F. Johnson, all rights reserved
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