Jonathan Geltner: Absolute Music
Sigrid Undset: The Wild Orchid

First Night of the New Symphony Season

I refer to the Mobile Symphony Orchestra. As I've had more than one occasion to mention here, there is something in the experience of live music that just can't be had by listening to recordings at home, no matter  how good the recording or the system reproducing it. The orchestra doesn't have to be one of the world's greatest--a capable, enthusiastic, and hard-working one in a medium-sized city which is hardly a major cultural center is enough to give you that something

The MSO plays at the Saenger Theater in downtown Mobile, which is where what people generally refer to as "nightlife" happens. On weekend nights especially, it's thronged with young and youngish people going to restaurants, clubs and bars. On symphony nights, of which there are only a half-dozen or so in the year, you also see a certain number of incongruous-looking older people, some of them downright elderly, many dressed much more formally than the young crowds. They--or we--look, and some of us feel, rather out of place--but some don't appear to feel that way at all, being well-to-do Old Mobilians who seem to regard themselves as the rightful proprietors of the area. By "Old Mobilians" I don't mean old people who live in Mobile but people who are of the families who have lived there for generations, or who are in the extensive network of friends, business associates, and others who might be called the ruling class of the city.

It's a shame that I can so easily identify symphony-goers by their age and class. But it is unfortunately the case that people who are interested in classical music tend to be older and more affluent. I don't think this is necessarily a sign of doom, though, as some think. It's somewhat natural that classical music would become more appealing to some people as they get older and, perhaps, more open to music with deeper and more lasting appeal than pop. Perhaps. Or perhaps attendance at the symphony is a bit of a status marker, or a mainly social event. I do sometimes overhear conversations which suggest to me that the speaker actually has little interest in the music itself. Well, that's ok: I'm glad they paid for a ticket and hope they keep doing it, and that they're getting some enjoyment out of it.

And the audience is by no means entirely made up of older people. There are quite a few younger ones, not the majority perhaps but a not-insignificant minority. A group of half a dozen or so who seemed to be quite young, probably not, or maybe just barely, out of their teens, was hanging out in the lobby at intermission, taking pictures of each other, and seeming to be having a great time. They didn't seem to be posturing or sneering or sulking or anything else except being young and lively. They asked me to take a picture of the entire group, which I was very pleased to do, for the sight of them had cheered me. Why were they there? It's fairly likely that they were music students.

Which does not necessarily mean that they are music enthusiasts. I think music students are sometimes required to go to concerts. The most hilariously un-enthusiastic remark I've ever heard at one of these concerts came from a group of music students who were sitting behind me in the very cheapest seats, way up in the balcony. Surveying the program before the concert started, one of them noted the symphony that would be the second half of the program and wailed to her friends "Y'all, they're going to play all four movements! We'll be here all night!" If I remember correctly they spared themselves that ordeal and left at intermission.

So much for social observations. What about the music? The first piece was Benjamin Britten's "Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra," which as you probably know is meant to exhibit all the instruments in the orchestra, one by one, in a theme-and-variations. I'm pretty sure I'd heard it once or twice over the years and wasn't expecting much. But it's a much more substantial piece than I had thought. The theme is a grand tune from Purcell, and the variations are really pretty remarkable. They quickly went much further afield than I was able to follow, and the piece ends with what struck me as a rather wild fugue, and a restatement of the theme. If you can get over any patronizing sense that it's a merely pedagogical tool, this is a pretty impressive piece of music. 

Next was the Barber Violin Concerto, with Randall Goosby as the soloist. A week or so before the concert I listened to a recording of the concerto, thinking that I had never heard it before and would at least get a little acquainted with it. But I immediately recognized the main melodies of the first movement, so obviously I had. And one of those melodies is now, four days later, sounding in my head, which means it ranks with some pop music in memorable tunefulness. I love that first movement, and may with a few more hearings love the whole concerto. The second movement has so far not made a strong impression, but the third is pretty striking: it's a very short, only four minutes or so, fast and furious thing, going at breakneck speed from start to finish, and, it seems to me as a non-violinist, making some pretty strong demands on the soloist. To my unexpert ears Goosby seemed to have no problems with it.

Then came a delightful surprise. Goosby's encore (much demanded) was a piece I had never heard of by a composer I had perhaps vaguely heard of, Coleridge-Taylor Perkinson. It's called "Louisiana Blues Strut" and is just 100% enjoyable for someone like me who likes the blues as much as he likes classical music. See what you think:

Here's a little about the composer.

The second half of the concert consisted of Rachmaninoff's Symphonic Dances (op. 45). This was the last thing Rachmaninoff wrote before his death--which, I was a bit shocked to hear, occurred in 1940. Yes, I knew he had been born fairly late in the late 19th century (1873) and had lived and worked well into the 20th, but I somehow had the notion that he had not lived past its first couple of decades. Maybe that's because I think of him as a late Romantic composer. (If you do the arithmetic you'll note that this was not an exceptionally long life: 67  years. But the vast changes that occurred during that period make it, in effect, longer.)

I had not heard this piece before, and didn't have time to give it a hearing before the concert. So all I have is a first impression, which is that it's big and colorful and spectacular, but not especially profound or moving. That may be a totally unfair judgment--I repeat that it's tentative. It certainly has some materials for profundity, reaching into Rachmaninoff's personal history as well as Christian sources both Eastern and Western on the themes of death and resurrection. In any case it was very enjoyable, and I think is the kind of piece that the Mobile Symphony does well. Its conductor, Scott Speck, is a very energetic and enthusiastic person, and this performance was definitely both of those. I greatly enjoyed it, and it seemed that the entire audience did, too.

Comments

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Sounds like a good concert, Mac. This year my teenagers bought a subscription series to the Toronto Symphony Orchestra, so we'll be going to about five concerts over the course of the season. I'm looking forward to it!

Speaking of Rachmaninov's surprising persistence, the case of Richard Strauss is even more startling. He was born in 1864 but lived until 1949!

And it seems to be generally agreed that he was doing top-notch work until last year of his life. I haven't heard the Four Last Songs but it/they has/have been strongly recommended to me.

My paternal grandfather was born in 1878 and died in 1973. I often think of him in this context--the enormousness of the changes he lived through. When he turned 21 the automobile, telephone, and household electricity were just coming onto the scene, and he lived to see the moon landing.

I feel pretty confident that you're going to hear some great music in that series, with an orchestra a level (at least) above the MSO.

The Four Last Songs are really wonderful. Gorgeous, long vocal lines. Many great singers have done them, but (if you're shopping) the version by Jessye Norman has a special place in my heart.

The decades from 1900-1925 saw so many dramatic changes to the material conditions of life. They far outstrip anything I've lived through.

My pessimistic view is that if such swift and huge changes ever happen again it will be a collapse, not a great leap forward.

I can't remember for sure but I think the person who recommended the Four Last Songs to me also recommended Jessye Norman's performance.

The Barber Violin Concerto is a beautiful piece. I have played the first movement myself, but the third movement is, as you guessed, very difficult, and I have not attempted it. There's a legend relating to the violinist to whom Barber dedicated the concerto. He was shown the movements as each of them were completed, and was dissatisfied with the first two movements because of how easy they were. So Barber made the third movement a virtuosic "perpetuo mobile."

I second the Jessye Norman performance of the Four Last Songs, so beautiful. Kurt Masur conducts the orchestra possibly at the slowest tempo of all the recordings, which I love. What's the rush I say!

Jessye Norman on recording the third movement:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gs0XAMWhij0

And the recording itself:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3LSi053VMqw

I actually have that performance on an LP I picked up somewhere or other and as far as I can recall have never listened to. I think I'll bump it up on my listening list.

Thaddeus, I guess the word "legend" means that the story may not be true, but it's a good one. And one does wonder--that movement is so very different from the other two. Really, I think that if I were to give it more thought and attention I'd conclude that it's a flaw in the concerto. If the "legend" is not true, I wonder what Barber's reasoning actually was.

I have the Barber concerto on a burned CD-R but haven't listened to it in a long time. I apparently liked it enough to burn it, so I'll be interested to give it a listen. The version I have is by Ruggiero Ricci and the Pacific Symphony Orchestra, a recording originally released in 1985 but reissued in '93 and again in 2006.

It isn't in the class with those monuments that I've been writing about for a while now, but it's definitely worth attention. I'm going to listen to it again with more attention to the second movement.

At the moment I can't remember the name of the woman who's the soloist on the recording I have and I can't get up to look because I have a cat on my lap. It's not one of the biggest names and it's not new. From the '80s maybe...

Looked on Amazon and was surprised to see how many recordings of the Barber are available! I hadn't realized the piece was as well known as it apparently is.

Actually my recording is by one of the big names: Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg. With the London Symphony, conducted by Maxim Shostakovitch. A CD released in 1992. I don't have any idea why or how I acquired it, but most likely it was cheap, as I don't have any special interest in either composer and I have never bought all that many full-price CDs. I don't mean "no interest," just that they aren't high on my list. Presumably this disk is why I recognized the concerto although I didn't recall hearing it. The "other side" is Shostakovitch's violin concerto. Dimitri S. Maybe I'll recognize it, too.

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