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S.F. Symphony's Ravel in Technicolor

Steven Winn on November 10, 2014
Gil Shaham (photo: Luke Ratray) and Michael Tilson Thomas (photo: Art Streiber)

 

Going in to Thursday’s San Francisco Symphony concert at Davies Hall, the opening number the Liszt Mephisto Waltz figured to be little more than a flashy curtain-raiser. But in this hometown warm-up for the orchestra’s upcoming American tour, the piece at the top of Music Director Michael Tilson Thomas’ canny program proved to be a telling preview for the audience here and for listeners across the country, who will experience the show in the weeks to come.

The 50-minute narrative scroll unfurled in the musical equivalent of Technicolor, CinemaScope, and high-definition. Lushness and precision, passion and beautifully pearled details coalesced in a performance that captured the wildness and meditative balm of the mythic tale itself.

With its capering violins and tramping cellos, cat-calling trombones and shrieking woodwinds, a fully realized and wickedly mischievous Mephisto made orchestral color a clear priority. The program’s big payoff came after intermission, in Ravel’s full “choreographic symphony in three parts” drawn from his 1912 ballet score Daphnis et Chloé. The 50-minute narrative scroll unfurled in the musical equivalent of Technicolor, CinemaScope, and high-definition. Lushness and precision, passion and beautifully pearled details coalesced in a performance that captured the wildness and meditative balm of the mythic tale itself.

In-between, as a sensory breather, came a little pool of classicism: the Mozart Violin Concerto No. 5 (“Turkish”), with a sunny Gil Shaham as soloist. Even if this account of it hadn’t been a shade too decorous and refined, it’s also not terribly surprising that the concerto would get a bit lost in all the brightness and brawn that preceded it.

In-between, as a sensory breather, came a little pool of classicism: the Mozart Violin Concerto No. 5 (“Turkish”), with a sunny Gil Shaham as soloist. The full Ravel score, as opposed to the widely played Daphnis et Chloé Suite No. 2, asks much of an orchestra. Programmatically episodic, it runs the risk of breaking into so many musical illustrations — of nymphs and gently grazing sheep, sinuous seductions and a ferocious war dance, pirates and bacchanals. And then there’s the problem of ballet music’s inherent function — to support and serve the dance that’s obviously missing from a symphonic performance.

In a sense, cohesion is beside the point. And MTT and his hearty band tackled things in such a committed, headstrong way from the start that a kind of internal momentum took hold and drove this remarkable music along. Beginning in a murmurous near-stillness, the piece seemed to rise out of the quiet earth like plant life seeking the sun.

The 120-member San Francisco Symphony Chorus, in a rare wordless assignment, urged things along with their airy and wonder-struck “oohs” and “aahs.” The woodwinds sent out spiraling shoots and tendrils over a warm ostinato of strings and muted brasses. The timpani’s pulse grew more insistent, unleashing shivers and washes of orchestral sound.

Ravel’s brilliance as an orchestrator his ability to mirror and reflect themes in different timbres, brighten a line with percussive etching, and create a sense of expansive space and light got its full measure here. The openly theatrical gestures offstage brass, lavish harp glissandi, a meandering flute line were set off against solid and virtuosic playing throughout. The strings swooned and stung. The brasses laughed and mocked and mumbled to themselves. The formidable percussion clattered and thundered and tingled responsively.

Principal clarinet Carey Bell turned in a ribald solo. Tim Day, the flute principal, wandered into the woodlands. Associate principal cellist Peter Wyrick had a distinguished night, both here and in his tenderly wrenching Mephisto turn. Concertmaster Alexander Barantschik was in fine, jaunty form.

The Ravel score peaks and recedes and peaks again so many times it can feel like a tease. But when Thomas and the orchestra reached the final ecstatic measures, there was still plenty held in reserve. The climax was thrilling, convulsive, a full-body transport.

In the Mozart, Shaham provided a series of pretty effects. His passagework was clean and clear. He articulated phrases with charm and slyness when called for. The second-movement cadenza featured some liquidly flowing double-stops. But overall, the performance was light and a little superficial, with the orchestra in relatively bland accord. The soloist’s penchant for eager, borderline-fatuous grinning may win him style points with some, but can also feel a little overweening. Looks, for better or worse, do matter.

All the visual conjuring the orchestra did in the Liszt and Ravel scores made that an issue Thursday night — one that played out at its best in transfixing musical terms. If it’s possible for an audience to see with its ears, this concert made that happen.