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SYMPHONY REVIEW
San Francisco Symphony Laura Aikin Jeremy Denk Michael Tilson Thomas
November 10, 2006
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Mozart Miscellany By Janos Gereben
“To begin at the beginning ...” Michael Tilson Thomas opened Friday’s San Francisco Symphony concert with three early pieces by Mozart. How early? Two minuets and one allegro, all written at age 5. MTT played the three lovely miniatures with focus and seriousness, in counterpoint to his playful speculation as to whether these pieces are “Kirchel 1 or K.1 and 1/2 ... I have always wanted to say that I’ll play K.9.” (Semigratuitous footnote: K.9 is Mozart’s fourth violin sonata, in G Major.)
In fact, the piano pieces were K.1e, K.2, and K.3, true examples of what the conductor-pianist-narrator called Mozart’s “beguiling, enormous precociousness.” MTT’s triple role came about at an unusual event in Davies Hall. The concert, called “A Mozart Journey,” was one of the Symphony’s “6.5” series, but with a twist.
These early Friday concerts (they start at 6:30 p.m.) present a shortened version of the week’s subscription program, although with the addition of a lecture-demonstration. If you attend on Thursday or Saturday of a “6.5” week (which occurs about once per month), you’ll hear a program of two or three works. On Friday, however, only one major work is performed — first explained by the conductor and illustrated with orchestral excerpts, then played through after intermission. That format wouldn’t have worked for this program — a “sampler” of short works to begin with, plus excerpts from longer ones, in the KDFC-FM mode of not burdening the listener with anything complete.
On this Friday, the difference was MTT’s extensive and delightful narration, leaving you to wonder what audiences on other (unnarrated) nights made of the rapid progression of short performances. The annotated edition came suffused with gems of MTT’s unbridled adoration for the composer: “his flourish, in doing everything better ... his unerring brilliance ... a natural theater animal.” Until the buoyant reading of the program-concluding Symphony No. 31, everything was short and mostly sweet. Works, soloists, and musicians kept coming and going so swiftly that the master of ceremonies himself got confused at one point, inviting pianist Jeremy Denk to the stage, and in the ensuing awkward pause realizing that the schedule called for the Finale from the Serenade in B-flat Major, not two movements from the Piano Concerto No. 23. (Note “Finale” and “two movements” — see the pattern?) To Denk’s credit, he didn’t respond to the erroneous call, but when it was actually his turn he played exquisitely, making the weirdly truncated concerto sound much of a whole. A contingent of the Symphony Chorus also rose to the challenge, singing well seldom-heard Mozart pieces of no particular greatness: the “Viaticum” and “Pignus futurae” from Litaniae de venerabili altaris sacramento, and three canons, including the silly-funny “Asinine Martin” with its grossly scatological text. (Still awaiting a successor to the retired Vance George, the Symphony Chorus is managed by three assistant directors, one of whom, Joshua Habermann, was responsible for the preparation — if not the text — of these performances.)
While entertaining and at times memorable, this “Mozart Journey” or “Mozart sampler” was neither a “best of” nor “the unknown Mozart,” but rather a meandering event — not quite incongruous, but definitely short on cohesiveness. Its memorable bits came from Tilson Thomas’s narration (including a superbly told Busoni story about Mozart’s being the only musician in heaven getting weekend passes to hell), Denk’s intense and yet lyrical pianism, and a star turn by Laura Aikin. The soprano tossed off the notoriously difficult aria “Martern aller Arten,” from Abduction From the Seraglio, nailing it brilliantly. It was cold brilliance, to be sure, more Fidelio’s heroism than Konstanze’s despair (there being much of “Martern aller Arten” in “Abscheulicher!”). But it was sung with total security, with projection that virtually shrank the 2,800-seat Davies Hall, and high notes that raised the roof — all without being vulgar. In short, a “performance for the ages,” one of those “I was there” moments. It would be thrilling to report that the magic went on and on, but it did not. When MTT made a surprise request (“I don’t have my glasses”) to have Aiken translate the recitative and aria “Ch’io mi scordi di te ... Non temer, amato bene” before performing it, she seemed rattled and stopped in her tracks. She struggled first with the translation (to amused, friendly laughter), then with the aria itself, her breathing and phrasing uncertain, in contrast with the Abduction aria — which, at any rate, will continue to be treasured as an example of a personal best.
(Janos Gereben is a regular contributor to San Francisco Classical Voice. His e-mail address is janosg@gmail.com.)
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Laura Aikin
