~ Author: Oberon
Tuesday November 13th, 2018 - Mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato joined The Philadelphia Orchestra this evening at Carnegie Hall, performing Ernest Chausson's lush and haunting Poème de l'amour et de la mer; masterworks by Wagner and Respighi were on the bill, as well as a New York premiere from composer Mason Bates. Yannick Nézet-Séguin was on the podium. It was a concert filled with attractions, but overall it didn't quite gel.
Starved as we are for Wagner these days, hearing the prelude to LOHENGRIN tonight was a godsend. It's been twelve years since this opera's been performed at The Met. And it's in the opera house that this score - and most especially its prelude - is best experienced. The idea of playing this music as the opening work in a symphony-concert setting seems wonderful in theory, but in practice it works less well. In a lighted concert hall, the audience is still settling in, with attendant coughing and rustling, whereas a darkened opera house has a quieting effect on the crowd, so that the sound of the ethereal, high, hushed strings steals directly into the soul.
Tonight the Philadelphia players did not quite attain the pure, gossamer quality of the music's first, hesitant measures; and Maestro Nézet-Séguin's pacing was just a shade too fast for the music to make its finest effect. As things became more expansive, the orchestra sounded magnificent. But my mind strayed back to The Met, where I heard such conductors as Karl Böhm, Berislav Klobučar, Philippe Auguin, and - most memorably - James Levine give this music a mystical glow.
I first heard the music of Mason Bates when tenor Will Ferguson programmed the then-fledgling composer's cycle Songs From The Plays at his Juilliard recitals. This evening, some fifteen years on, Bates' Anthology of Fantastic Zoology was given its New York premiere. This 30-minute work was commissioned by the Chicago Symphony in 2015 and recorded by that orchestra under Riccardo Muti's baton.
A vast array of percussion instruments are in play in this eleven-movement work. Each movement is titled ("Sprite", "Nymphs", "The Gryphon", and so forth), but I soon gave up trying to figure out where one ended and the next began. The music abounds in colours and textures; it zings, burbles, chirps, swoops, thunders, and thrums as it veers from quiet mystery to cinematic vastness. And the Philadelphians played it in dead earnest, to fabulous sonic effect. Timpanist Don Liuzzi deserves a gold medal for his epic performance.
During this panoramic piece, I noticed that the other writers around me seemed to stop taking notes, and a couple of them fell asleep. A long, meandering 'adagio' section found other audience members near me nodding off. Later they were jolted back to reality; the composer then gives us an endless ending.
Mr. Bates was given a warm reception, and he was urged up onto the podium by Nézet-Séguin. A cheering section, possibly from Philadelphia, were very vocal in their appreciation of the composer and the work. I'll be curious to read what other writers have to say. For me, it seemed impressive rather than savourable.
I wish Ernest Chausson's Poème de l'amour et de la mer was programmed more frequently. This evening marked only my second opportunity to hear it performed live - the first being by Dame Felicity Lott, with the Orchestre de la Suisse Romande on tour at the University of Connecticut in Storrs in 1995. Just last week, I was recalling my first-ever experience of hearing this gorgeous score, on a tape from the BBC.
The poems, by Maurice Bouchor, are clearly the words of a man speaking of parting from his (female) beloved. Indeed, the first performance of Poème de l'amour et de la mer was given at Brussels in 1893, with the composer accompanying tenor Désiré Demest in his own arrangement for piano. It has been recorded by such baritones as François Le Roux and Gérard Souzay, but in concerts nowadays is invariably sung by a woman.
The great contralto Marguerite Matzenauer sang the Carnegie Hall premiere of the work in 1918, conducted by Leopold Stokowski. Matzenauer was a full-fledged Wagnerienne, singing everything from Erda to Isolde. Tonight, a mezzo-soprano of lighter timbre took on the Chausson music: Joyce DiDonato.
Ms. DiDonato, an enormously popular singer, looked striking in an emerald green gown, shoulders bare. Unfortunately, she tripped twice on her way to the podium, next to which a music stand had been installed for her. She did not seem to rely on the score, but glanced at it from time to time. Otherwise, she tended to fix her gaze on the ceiling of the auditorium or - later - on the floor.
Maestro Nézet-Séguin, an evident lover of Wagner's music - to which this Chausson work is often compared - led his splendid musicians in a rich-hued performance. From time to time, the orchestra covered the singer, whose dramatic accents in the lower range seemed a bit overwrought but who sang the lyrical portions with affecting loveliness, tinged by sadness. Some of the higher notes in the vocal line sounded a bit tense, but the overall impression was most appealing. Ms. DiDonato's performance was very well-received, though hopes for an encore were not sustained.