|
SYMPHONY REVIEW
Stravinsky Echoes Through Time And A Cathedral
|
By Kip Cranna
Can a review be written about a concert at Grace Cathedral without
mentioning the acoustics? Probably, but only in the same sense that an
article about Niagara Falls can avoid mentioning water. My companion at the
San Francisco Symphony's all-Stravinsky program at Grace Cathedral on
Thursday summed it up succinctly: "Attending a concert here is a
little like smoking dope: it's all one or two seconds removed from
reality."
Yet audiences and musicians seem to love the hall. Its grandeur lends an
air of importance to the proceedings, and the multi-second reverberation,
though it obscures details and can create a great wash sonic of mush, can
also allow the right music to wallow in a rich bath of lushness. And while
"lushness" may not be the first word that comes to mind about Stravinksy,
Michael Tilson Thomas and the Symphony Chorus managed to find a fair amount
of it in this well-chosen program (part of a two-week Stravinsky Festival
that ended on Sunday). Arrayed on an immense portable stage spanning the
altar and communion rail area, the performers provided a satisfying reminder
of the reasons why Stravinsky retains his place among our century's great
composers.
Each of the five works on the program represented a different decade of
Stravinsky's output, from the twenties to the sixties. Despite their
varying styles and forms, the combination of pieces allowed an intriguing
perspective on their common creative source.
A deeply religious man, Stravinsky wrote little for the Russian Orthodox
Church into which he was baptized, owing to its proscription of musical
instruments in church services. His Mass (1948), scored for mixed chorus
and ten woodwind and brass instruments, was composed in the hope that it
would find a place in actual Roman Catholic ritual, but it has remained
primarily a concert vehicle. Tilson Thomas seemed intent on preventing
the cathedral's resonance from overwhelming the piece, leading a restrained
performance that avoided excess or ostentation. The Gloria was delivered
with a discreet jauntiness that brought to mind some buoyant moments in
Stravinsky's opera The Rake's Progress, a work from this same period. The
Credo was dispatched lightly, the choral chanting of its wordy text creating
an effect of communal murmuring. The effective solo quartet consisted of
soprano Nicolle Foland, mezzo Michelle DeYoung, tenor Richard
Clement, and baritone Grant Youngblood.
The Symphony of Wind Instruments, from the 1920's, is a one-movement tribute
to Debussy, an "austere ritual" (as Stravinsky called it) juxtaposing
disparate ideas, from the light burbling of flutes and clarinets to
lustrously rich chords in the brass. From the proximity of an aisle seat
in Row D, at least, the work retained it tautness and clarity despite the
acoustic surroundings.
The Requiem Canticles, Stravinsky's last major work (premiered in 1966),
offered a compendium of compositional techniques spanning the composer's
lifetime, including percussive string writing reminiscent of early works
like The Rite of Spring, and choral recitation and Sprech-gesang. Youngblood was impressive in the emphatic Tuba mirum, and DeYoung
offered a richly sung "Lacrimosa," its angular melody notwithstanding.
A reprise of the Canticum Sacrum (featured on one of the Symphony's
subscription concerts in May) gave a glimpse of Stravinsky in the 1950's,
freely experimenting with twelve-tone competition following the death of its
most important exponent, Schoenberg. Using short biblical texts in Latin,
the work was written for the Venice Biennale and begins with a sung
dedication to the city. Its carefully crafted dissonance, of a type that
was all the rage when this writer was in college in the sixties, sounds
oddly old-fashioned in the nineties. In Surge, aquilo, tenor soloist
Clement feasted on the love poetry from The Song of Songs, singing the
disjunct melodies with fervor and lyricism. Youngblood gave a sympathetic
yet strong performance of the penitential Jesus autem ait illi.
The famous Symphony of Psalms (1930), another setting of Latin texts,
concluded the program, with Tilson Thomas adjusting gamely to the over-rich
acoustics with an approach that was broad, firm, and secure. The distinctive
flute quintet sounded more exotic than adventurous in this environment, and
spurred thoughts about music of this type that, though once regarded by many
baby-boomers as on the cutting edge, is now thoroughly mainstream. Rarely
before has Stravinsky's music-as in the final Alleluia-- conjured up such
adjectives as "dreamy" and "buttery," but there's a first time for
everything.
(Clifford (Kip) Cranna is the Musical Administrator of the San Francisco
Opera and Program Advisor for the Carmel Bach Festival.)
©1999 Clifford Cranna, all rights reserved
|
