The majesty of the human voice

There was definitely something about the performance of Beethoven’s 9th Symphony by the BSO that was destined to be special. There’s always an energy in the air surrounding an eagerly anticipated live performance, and from the moment I was in line for rush tickets, an hour before the ticket sales in dreary conditions, I had a sense that it would be a special night.

I actually enjoy rush line conversations, because they have so far been invariably amusing, and I’ve had the chance to meet some very interesting people. This time, I was flanked by two beautiful women, but one was looking around eagerly for someone with earbuds in her ears, and one behind me was studying her buzz-off medical flashcards. And so I read my book. The boyfriend did arrive, and this presented a tricky etiquette situation of Rush Line Tickets. There are a limited number of tickets available — 100 per show — and clearly this was a big performance, since the line started forming well over an hour before the rush tickets are sold. If you save a place for someone, that really might mean that someone around place 100 doesn’t get a seat, despite having waited in line for such a long time. But the civility that generally marks the symphony crowd prevailed here, as the couple descended to the back of the line, advancing me one place (this is important). I ended up talking to a very nice gentleman who was a businessman from New Hampshire who traded MFA stories with me (who else can I do that with?). I also knew to be nice to the girl behind me, since she would end up sitting next to me during the concert. (It’s not that I was planning on being rude or something.)

Anyhow, while I was finding my seat later that evening, I had a funny feeling about my seat, and it never dawned on me to look on the ticket for the words “partially obstructed view.” The feeling I had was that I was sitting right behind one of the large pillars in the rear of the orchestra section! Avoid seat QQ27 at all costs. There are other, similar seats that afford a lovely view of a cylindrical stone column, on which I suggest they draw an outline of the orchestra so you don’t stare at the pole all evening. It’s a good thing I was friendly to the girl behind me, since I probably intruded slightly on her personal space trying to get a view. Actually, I think I’m the perfect patron for that seat, since I’m not inclined to complain about being there for $9 and because I am there for the aural experience far, far more than the visual one. I can be outside the hall and still have a good time.

The notable difference on the stage was that the choir rafters were set up for the 9th Symphony. It would mark the first time I heard the human voice project in Symphony Hall, and like all the other symphonies save No. 5, I was not terribly familiar with the entire piece. Of course every burgeoning violin student who plays in any youth orchestra is bound to encounter Ode To Joy, but it was nothing like this.

In sequential order, the BSO started with Symphony No. 8, and true to the observation, it was a lighthearted even numbered Beethoven symphony, with a pleasant theme. My new symphony friend KVS noted that our esteemed guest conductor, Lorin Maazel, was not too distracting in his movements, which she appreciated. I can go either way, honestly, and like seeing the variety of styles in composers. No. 8 is short, which makes for a good program partner with No. 9, which is somewhat epic in scope.

As the choir filtered on stage in single file, I got a bit excited at the prospect of hearing that instrument for the first time. The choir always looks larger than the space reserved for the group, and they would prove to be a powerful, singular voice. Four chairs were reserved in front of Maazel for the four soloists that Beethoven required. The Egg was never more a fitting crown on the stage than in this configuration of musicians on stage.

From the first choral note to the end, I could not help but grin stupidly at the magnificence of the projection of the human voice throughout the hall. It managed to find even me, in the partially obstructed seat, in glorious praise to music. I have witnessed no finer exaltation than the combination of song in Symphony Hall. While I’m always impressed with the ability of non-mechanical amplification in the form of the contrived physics of instruments such as the violin, piano, or horn, the nature-created human voice has yet to be matched note-for-note by our clever engineering. I’m singularly impressed.

At some point, during one of the more popular songs, I was secretly hoping for an audience singalong reminiscent of the scene in the film Amadeus during a performance of Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte. If I were ever certain it would be well received at Symphony Hall, I’d be right in the middle of that. There was an element of completeness missing from the evening since I had missed out on performances of 6 and 7, but there was also a perfect finality of witnessing the 9th for the first time live, having heard Nos. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 8 in the last few weeks. While I was very impressed and thankful for Maazel’s last minute guest appearance, I do hope that our very own James Levine is recovering well and returns to his swivel chair on stage soon.

Beethoven’s Third and Fourth, Twice

I think the most performances I’ve seen in a calendar week has been about three. I was definitely toeing that line during the recent BSO performances of the Beethoven symphony cycle, but I decided not to attend the Friday evening and Saturday evening performances of 6 and 7, because they were a little more expensive than I would have liked (but still not expensive, I should note). The Tuesday and Thursday performances featured Associate Conductor Julian Kuerti, whom I liked, as he led the BSO in Symphonies 3 and 4. They started with the lighter No. 4, which I enjoyed more at Tuesday’s show than I did on Thursday, where I sensed the superficiality in its themes. While the Eroica is certainly the better-known of the two, I was not at all familiar with it on Tuesday but definitely enjoyed its magnificence at Thursday’s show, with a symphony buddy AB. I went from Tuesday, preferring 4 to Eroica, to Thursday, definitely understanding why Eroica is more well known.

One funny observation about rush tickets came up while waiting in line for these performances. While I actually ended up with college card tickets on Thursday, the guy in front of us at the box office was also getting a college card ticket. They’re usually given out in sequential order, which made me refrain from commenting on the guy’s inside-out shirt (he was BU student based on the ID). We would eventually be seated next to him, though he didn’t show up until the performance of the 3rd symphony and then proceeded to follow the first movement before falling asleep for the rest of the piece. The observation that I’d be sitting next to the person in line is well known to me from previous rush ticket experience, but this is one of the few times that it might have had awkward consequences.

I will catch 6 and 7 when they are performed again later in this season, complete with rush ticket options. Since seeing 8 and 9 performed, I’ve now had the pleasure of hearing nearly all of the Beethoven symphonies performed by the BSO in a single season, which is the first opportunity to have done so since 1934! I’m not going to lie, that’s pretty cool.

Boston University’s CFA faculty exhibits chamber music depth

In Boston, we are surrounded by world class performing arts, and there is perhaps no finer example of this than our Boston Symphony Orchestra. But equally telling in my opinion are the number of fantastic music resources outside of the BSO, whose members number among the faculty at area schools. While we are perhaps best known for the Berklee School of Music and the New England Conservatory, the faculty of Boston University College of Fine Arts are outstanding performing instrumental musicians as well. Tonight, several faculty members and doctoral degree candidates performed a concert of chamber music free to the community. While their performance tonight was largely superb, a few strange rough spots and imperfections slightly colored the otherwise wonderful music.

Four unique but overlapping ensembles played four different compositions, two of which were single movements. The Allegro Moderato from Schubert’s Trio in B Flat Major (D471) was performed by a trio of Korean musicians who are studying at BU. The performance was quite wonderful, especially from violinist Ku Yeon Kang, whose bowing technique certainly contributed to her well articulated phrasing. On loud, legato passages, she utilized the entire length of the bow, while relegating short staccato notes to what must have been the bow’s perfect balance point. The trio played well together, though group entrances were all preceded by an audible breath to signal one another, which was not overly distracting but still present.

The second piece performed on the program was an interesting Beethoven that featured a violist and a cellist, two relatively lower and midrange string instruments. This combination of instruments was commissioned to play the Allegro of his Duet in E-Flat Major. I likened the sound of this combination of instruments to a devil’s food cake that was covered in fudge icing — incredibly rich and satisfying. Unfortunately, someone had left the cake out a day too long, as Violist Michelle LaCourse seemed out of pitch with Cellist Hyun-Ji Kwon for the entire movement. It was unclear if this was a problem with tuning to the same tone pre-concert, since LaCourse had just played in the first piece, but it was off enough to be distracting throughout the piece. I look forward to hearing the Beethoven again without this glaring problem present.

LaCourse had opened the evening’s program with Bayla Keyes, the wonderful violinist with whom she played Mozart’s Duet in G Major, KV 423. It was very much in the spirit of Mozart’s Sinfonia Concertante, a piece with full orchestra that features dual soloists on violin and viola. While the viola/cello duet was pure indulgence, the viola added a dimension to the violin that was the well-baked brownie: perfectly rich for my tastes. The Mozart was interpreted beautifully by Keyes and LaCourse, trading off passages in a playful style. While some of the quick staccato passages were slightly imperfect in their execution, the overall spirit was fully in tact and quite enjoyable. Based on Keyes’ otherwise successful attention to bowing, it was also clear that Kang’s bowing technique may well have been perfected by Keyes, her current advisor and teacher.

Finally, the evening ended in style with Brahms’ String Sextet No. 2 in G Major, Op. 36. It was a fitting end to a wonderful program of music, bringing on stage many musicians, teachers and students together, in nearly every part. The piece calls for two of each violins, violas, and cellos, and student-teacher combinations played both the violas and cellos. Not at all to knock the excellent performance of second violinist Heather Braun, but there would have been a nice symmetry had Kang been playing alongside her mentor as well. Nevertheless, the group’s dynamic sensibility was on display in this piece, as they move throughout the decibel scale seamlessly and to a nice effect dramatically. The interpretation was wonderful, colorful, and technically impressive, capping of the program with an excellent performance. The six musicians spoke to one another individually and then synchronously, trading parts throughout the piece. This Brahms’ is one in which I find the first movement and its theme rather strange, but the other movements only get better as the piece progresses.

It is true that we are fortunate in Boston to have access to such a depth of talented musicians. An under-advertised and under-appreciated resource, BU’s CFA performs a few times each semester and should not be missed, especially in chamber recitals such as tonight’s which was largely a resounding success.

Homage to the Egg

I should probably be more familiar with the Beethoven symphonies than I am.

Nearly everyone can hum some part of the famous opening to Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5. I admit that I’m only familiar with the Allegro con brio, and I don’t really know much of the rest of the Beethoven symphonic cycle, save bits of the most famous passages. It’s a product of my fragmented and self-perpetuated classical music education, which was quite limited to the violin repertoire until I discovered ways of seeing the Boston Symphony Orchestra regularly. I appreciate the symphonic form, though the pieces are long and require careful listening over periods of time that are increasingly difficult to find. The drama of symphonic music cannot be relegated to background noise. The first series of performances in this symphonic cycle includes Symphonies 1, 2, and 5. These kick off the first Beethoven symphonic cycle since Serge Koussevitsky led the BSO through them during the 1933-34 season, so it added considerable value to my new symphony buddy AB to see them while the BSO were performing them. For me, it was a fitting tribute to the Beethoven egg that adorns the stage at Symphony Hall. (AB and I think that the egg was supposed to be for a rendering of Ludwig’s face but ended up being cut due to time constraints, prompting the artist to hastily scrawl his name in the space.)

The 5th symphony was magnificent — moving and powerful. It simultaneously showed off the acoustics of the hall and the mastery of the orchestra itself. They appeared to be in top form on a Friday afternoon, which for anyone in any profession is no small feat. The symphony itself seemed to be one long continuation of two movements; I could not readily discern breaks between the movements.

I was least familiar with the 2nd, as I had recognized at least some bits of Beethoven’s 1st. I liked several of the themes in the 2nd, however, and I look forward to revisiting them both soon.

Of course the series of BSO performances prompted me to go out to Cambridge and visit Stereo Jack’s to see if they had a good recording of the symphonic cycle. I was fortunate to find the Leonard Bernstein with the Vienna Philharmonic available for a steal of a price, so I can familiarize myself with the symphonies before hearing the BSO renditions.

For his part, conductor Rafael Frühbeck de Burg was excellent, and I even appreciated his quirkiness in demanding absolute silence from the audience between movements before continuing on. Though musical director James Levine is always missed while he recovers from his recent back surgery, there are plenty of guest conductors who come and go all season, so the only thing I lament is that Levine doesn’t get to be a part of the first Beethoven symphonic cycle in over 75 years. But Levine will return in time for the third program, and we are fortunate to have had de Burgo come, prepare, and perform on such short notice. This program whets my appetite for hearing the rest of the Beethoven symphonies, with a special distinction for me, as these are my first ever live performances of any of these works.

Tchaikovsky redemption

In my second BSO concert of the season, I saw a program of Martinu, Stravinsky, Thomas, and Tchaikovsky, conducted by Ludovic Morlot. My expectations were minimal considering I was not familiar with any of the pieces, but with fantastic seats and a new season, I was trying to keep an open mind, especially for the contemporary composer Augusta Read Thomas’s Helios Choros II (Sun God Dancers).

Unfortunately I soon failed in doing so for too long, as I found Thomas’s composition to be overly dissonant and fractured. Honestly, the simplicity of good songs or themes can be incredibly powerful when knit into a fuller, richer score. The piece held my attention for approximately 20 bars, through some interesting percussion, and I admit that I stopped listening actively for most of the first third to two thirds, in anticipation of the Tchaikovsky, for which I had great expectations after a mildly interesting Martinu and mediocre Stravinsky.

The Martinu Frescoes of Piero della Francesca were decidedly uninspired today, and honestly I cannot recall the piece well. On the other hand, I remember solo pianist Peter Serkin’s performance of Stravinsky’s Capriccio well enough to have been completely underwhelmed. The Capriccio is a piece full of vitality, and yet I did not think that either Serkin’s or the pared down orchestra’s performance was reflective of this necessary energy.

So the transition into the Tchaikovsky left me with but a little hope that the evening could be salvaged from the depths of mere adequacy for an otherwise typically stellar experience with the BSO. Because I did not know the piece, I was relying simply on the program notes that gave the backstory to Francesca da Rimini. From what I could glean, while trying to drown out and forget the Helios, the piece would be intense and confrontational.

These themes were clearly evident in this performance, as the orchestra came to life in dramatic fashion. Morlot was at his best this evening with the Tchaikovsky, and the BSO responded to his instruction with a stunning dynamic range that took me instantaneously yet gracefully from the whispers of pianissimo to the magnificence of triple forte. This is composition at its finest, telling the story while inspiring a fierce emotional reaction. It will not be often that my mood matches that of a jealous husband who goes on a murderous rage after discovering his wife’s secret affair with his brother, but I know now what soundtrack and performance might just be able to capture such a complex feeling in music. While I think on this evening with the Tchaikovsky firmly in mind, I suppose I’ll have to wait until another day to feign understanding of contemporary art in any form.