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Concert review: San Francisco Symphony
Jan. 27th, 2005 08:23 amI gave up an offer to review the string quartet concert that ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
athenais attended (Schubert and Ligeti? That combination's enough to give one indigestion) in favor of an all-18th century concert that I already had a ticket for. Much more coherent. (Sometimes I'd like to take some of these obnoxious modernist composers and pre-incarnate them back in the 18th century, and then see what they compose. My guess is: nothing. They wouldn't know nor care how to do it, even had they been born in that society and trained in its music.)
This was a concert to highlight the members of the orchestra, who acted as both the ripeno and the soloists in five concerti, ranging from two solo concerti to a pure concerto grosso. At the latter end of the spectrum was my favorite of all Baroque works, Bach's Third Brandenburg Concerto, played with one player to a part, standing, as if they were the New Century Chamber Orchestra. But my favorite of the evening was Mozart's Serenata Notturna, a work I'd never heard live before and something of a revelation on stage. It fit well with the otherwise all-Baroque program (hear that, Daedalus String Quartet?), because it's one of his most Baroque works in concept, being essentially a multiple-concerto with a concertino group of two violins, viola, and string bass, taken by the orchestra's section leaders. But at the same time it makes for an interesting contrast for its very four-square high-classical construction. The concertino group mostly play as a unit, putting the work more towards the concerto grosso end, but in the finale they each also erupt into little solos. Rather than evolving out of context as in a Baroque work, or being true cadenzas of a later style, they're more tiny show-off bows in the manner of Haydn's Le matin, midi, et soir. Or like something you might hear in jazz.
Two solo concertos were also fine: Bach's E-minor violin concerto, with concertmaster Alexander Barantschik on his famous Heifetz Guarneri, and a Vivaldi flautino concerto (RV.443) performed dazzlingly by the orchestra's piccolo player, Catherine Payne, last prominently heard by me scaling the heights of her instrument's range in Shostakovich's Seventh. This was much less piercing, and great fun. Payne handled the fast runs flawlessly, and showed great sense of line and purity of tone in the largo.
This all being very well, what the #@$* went wrong with the Brandenburg Fifth that opened the program? It was dreadful! The sound was wet and harsh (a small group tends to get swallowed up in the huge mass of Davies anyway, but the rest of the concert was at least tolerable), the rhythm was clockwork (a deadly practice in 18th century music, to be avoided at all costs), and the soloists were uninspired. Robin Sutherland on harpsichord was performing pratfalls all over his own feet, er fingers, during the big keyboard solo in the first movement, to the point where it was embarrassing to listen to. Didn't he practice? I kept thinking that yeah, it's better than the average amateur duffer, but the average amateur duffer isn't inviting hundreds of people to pay lots of money to hear him.
So I started out more than a bit dubious, but got increasingly happier as the concert went on. Take that, Malcolm Gladwell and your theory of instant immutable judgments.
athenais attended (Schubert and Ligeti? That combination's enough to give one indigestion) in favor of an all-18th century concert that I already had a ticket for. Much more coherent. (Sometimes I'd like to take some of these obnoxious modernist composers and pre-incarnate them back in the 18th century, and then see what they compose. My guess is: nothing. They wouldn't know nor care how to do it, even had they been born in that society and trained in its music.)This was a concert to highlight the members of the orchestra, who acted as both the ripeno and the soloists in five concerti, ranging from two solo concerti to a pure concerto grosso. At the latter end of the spectrum was my favorite of all Baroque works, Bach's Third Brandenburg Concerto, played with one player to a part, standing, as if they were the New Century Chamber Orchestra. But my favorite of the evening was Mozart's Serenata Notturna, a work I'd never heard live before and something of a revelation on stage. It fit well with the otherwise all-Baroque program (hear that, Daedalus String Quartet?), because it's one of his most Baroque works in concept, being essentially a multiple-concerto with a concertino group of two violins, viola, and string bass, taken by the orchestra's section leaders. But at the same time it makes for an interesting contrast for its very four-square high-classical construction. The concertino group mostly play as a unit, putting the work more towards the concerto grosso end, but in the finale they each also erupt into little solos. Rather than evolving out of context as in a Baroque work, or being true cadenzas of a later style, they're more tiny show-off bows in the manner of Haydn's Le matin, midi, et soir. Or like something you might hear in jazz.
Two solo concertos were also fine: Bach's E-minor violin concerto, with concertmaster Alexander Barantschik on his famous Heifetz Guarneri, and a Vivaldi flautino concerto (RV.443) performed dazzlingly by the orchestra's piccolo player, Catherine Payne, last prominently heard by me scaling the heights of her instrument's range in Shostakovich's Seventh. This was much less piercing, and great fun. Payne handled the fast runs flawlessly, and showed great sense of line and purity of tone in the largo.
This all being very well, what the #@$* went wrong with the Brandenburg Fifth that opened the program? It was dreadful! The sound was wet and harsh (a small group tends to get swallowed up in the huge mass of Davies anyway, but the rest of the concert was at least tolerable), the rhythm was clockwork (a deadly practice in 18th century music, to be avoided at all costs), and the soloists were uninspired. Robin Sutherland on harpsichord was performing pratfalls all over his own feet, er fingers, during the big keyboard solo in the first movement, to the point where it was embarrassing to listen to. Didn't he practice? I kept thinking that yeah, it's better than the average amateur duffer, but the average amateur duffer isn't inviting hundreds of people to pay lots of money to hear him.
So I started out more than a bit dubious, but got increasingly happier as the concert went on. Take that, Malcolm Gladwell and your theory of instant immutable judgments.
